The Lanes

photo of the marshes
A strange scene unfolding on the marshes
photo of bicycle in a hedge
The bike waits

The Lanes have existed for a very long time. Certain families are compelled to navigate the lanes endlessly on long summer days, through sunny autumns and cold winters. They are rewarded in the spring by blossom-filled hedges and magical encounters. A tiny red deer runs across from verge to field. Mysterious statues lurk at the edge of a churchyard. The gravestones will move, apparently by themselves. There isn’t a breath of wind but the cyclist’s breathing is stirring the air as they toil uphill. The Lanes are steep.

photograph of a churchyard in Lancashire
Through the gate
photo of warning sign on a graveyard
A sense of foreboding

As summer deepens The Lanes grow leafier and darker. There are many incidences of plummeting downwards into a dank hole. The bottom is shadowy but sunlight breaks through, sometimes highlighting a river or a pool where swimmers cry. The Lanes never pause but climb straight up again to the flatter fields, full of pale grass with hills in the distance. So many Ways that connect. It is easy to lose yourself and end up adding many miles to your journey. This can be a problem as evening approaches and the sun starts to disappear.

photo of a leafy Lancashire lnae
Into the summer darkness
photo of a complicated tree
A tree guards the swimmers’ pool
photo of a view in Bleasdale
And up to the light
photo near Harris End Fell
In sight of the sea
photo of Lancaster Ashton Memorial on a summer's evening
Evening falling

2 thoughts on “The Lanes

  1. Julie

    The local bells toll Sunday, the skeleton branches outside my window jiggle in the breeze, the sky soars blue between the pastel housing blocks that guard the grey crossroads, but i am there in the deep, liquid green lanes, my good friend. Thank you for transporting me there with you.I hope to be there at your side in body not just spirit some time soon. Jxxx


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