Yorkshire Wolds, Birdsall Dale from the road to Vessey Pasture.

Another afternoon trip saw me revisiting the Wolds above Thixendale. This time I headed for a footpath opposite Gill's Farm, I had seen it on an ordnance survey map and realized it lead to the long, winding Thixen Dale. I walked down a narrow, enclosed, chalk rutted track, passing blackthorn, flowering white profusion, on old lichen covered, bright yellow green, gnarled stems. This venerable hedge provided a resting place,  a recuperative safe place, for a jeweled crimson red, motionless ladybird, perhaps waking from hibernation.

'Ladybird 

Ladybird,

Fly away home,

Your house is on fire

And your children

are gone..'

As a child I was always a little confused and worried about this nursery rhyme.  And, I know there are many variations, but it still makes me uneasy. I wonder if the origins are significant.

Onward, again stopping before the steep, decline to Thixendale village I get out of the car and walk, more beauty, more rolling hills, distant farms appear rooted to the land, anchored in the past, yet very much part of the rotation of life.

At Thixendale I admire a thatched building opposite the General Store.  I meet the 'Village Store' proprietor who told me that the prettiest Dale was Water Dale, just beyond the village. I was intrigued having never driven through Thixendale and so, off exploring with George I went. The drive took us along the narrow curving road through Water Dale,  passing places at regular intervals. It was indeed very pretty. The road continued into Birdsall Dale and to the large Aldro Farm complex, with it's 'asbestos' warning signs.
I stopped at a junction to look at the road sign. Apparently, Birdsall was just 2 miles further, though my interest was with the unusual names on the sign, Vessey Pastures and Toisland.
I had never heard of these places so I decided to investigate. It soon became apparent that the road is very high, at about 800 feet above sea level ( 237 metres ) and a panorama opened to my left, and Wolds to my right, with the distant skyline being Hanging Grimston Wold. I parked at the edge of Swinham Wood, when I saw this view. The dark green foreground is oil seed rape and it is just beginning to flower. Beyond the land drops to the road, just out of sight, which takes you back to Thixendale, passing the pale tree. The road veers round to the left heading back to Water Dale while the Dale to the right, which joins up with the Birdsall Dale is called Brownmoor Dale.
So many Dales.

I set up the French easel and my thoughts turn to a dear
Viking friend who loved this area.
An area he will no longer explore,
Relish
Or conquer;
Or imagine a hut on a hill,
Where philosophers examine the meaning of ...
Meaning.
Perhaps he is in the squirrel wood at Asgard,
Having Viking adventures,
To be enthusiastically retold....
With a twinkle in his eye.

All the time I painted, a yellow hammer called from the topmost branch of a massive beech tree. . This no through road, was very quiet, only two vehicles passed me, one being a small agricultural 4x4, the other a car which I assumed was bound for the Toisland Farm.  Excited barking heralded the arrival of a young mother, perhaps a hundred yards away, holding the leads of two exuberant, happy, keen dogs. As she walked past me, her young daughter cheerfully wobbled about on her small bicycle. The wind had dropped and the sun was beginning to cast shadows now, so I stopped and gave George his dinner.
The farmer turning over the distant field in his blue tractor, had gone now.
The place was rather magical, peaceful with big skies above and attractive contoured land below.