Author Archives: Irene Amiet

Frosty Morning

First Snow

Last night’s snow rests frozen over the Ribble Valley under a lilac dawn. As diamonds and sapphire enhance each other’s sparkle and depth, a blue

Winter Mists

Winter Mists

Frost’s crystal chimes on grass and twig, glazed Hawthorn berries in icy wreath on gnarled trees, the sun blowing the mists down the fell, winter’s

Swan Flight

Magic Wings

Every autumn, at Martin mere near Burscough in Lancashire, the skies fill with thousands of wings of birds who choose the protected wetlands at the

January Bowland

Bleakness can adorn in simplicity. If that is an oxymoron, I apologise. But oftentimes the smooth, unadorned fabrics carry an elegance in understatement, a similar