Up Brown Clee Hill
By Rhiannonw
- 5617 reads
… highest hill in Shropshire (20/1/16)
At home, hoar-frosted trees against the milky, misty fog,
drive north, the scene clears, blue sky;
venture down lanes to Brown Clee hill;
climb (on foot now) up the steep incline of the Shropshire Way:
huge views open out westwards to misty blue folds of hills;
up at the top, sharp air, pockets of sparkling, crispy snow,
and eastwards the plain and the Malverns slipping into the haze;
head down an old dyke (covering pipework for the radar masts?);
afternoon evening sunlight shining on gnarled trees
standing out over the valley below.
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Comments
I know the place Rhiannon and
I know the place Rhiannon and your lovely description brings it back to me. Always seems cold up there. Coincidentally, I've also written a Clee Hill piece, which I dug out the other day to pare down.
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I'm not familiar
with this locality, however its great as a bit of travel writing, perhaps your true vocation is writing descriptions for brocheres lol... not really, however enjoyable.
maisie Guess what? I'm still alive!
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Your beautiful scenic
Your beautiful scenic descriptions really take the reader there to see it all through your eyes. Lovely!
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There's something to be said
There's something to be said for writing about these wonderful rambles you go on. This one in particular gave me a feeling of freedom, just reading about those views, I could smell the fresh air and feel the tranquillity.
I do think keeping a diary in poems is something to look back on too.
Beautifully done Rhiannon.
Jenny.
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I liked this frosty tale.
I liked this frosty tale.
A hot choclate is required for another read.
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Rhiannon!!
Rhiannon!!
A beautiful description of a place where I've never been, but now would like to visit!!
Terry
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Hi Rhiannon
Hi Rhiannon
It sounds like a beautiful walk - and sometimes our wintery weather is something to praise rather than fear.
Jean
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I, too, must thank you for
I, too, must thank you for taking me on this delightful ramble, especially on such a dreary day as this. Even the pheasants I can see at present from out of my window, look a touch down in the beak
Great writing, as ever, Rhiannon.
Tina
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