Blowing Hot and Cold (Nutclough, Hirst/Hurst and Dodnaze Woodland)
Sunday of the Spring Bank weekend 2025 was Phil’s only chance for an outing. We set off in uninviting wind to hunt wild irises in Nutclough. Up the street, rhododendron blossoms lay grounded by violent gusts. Garden clearance exposed archaic mounting steps. A woman pulled luggage up The Buttress. ‘To the top?’ I enquired. ‘Yes, no need for the gym.’ ‘Definitely not.’ On Hangingroyd Lane, we…
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