Looking out from the top of one of the Dales, you can't help but wonder at the creation of this magnificent landscape. It's easy to enjoy the serenity of the countryside and to find a quiet corner to stop and reflect.

Over a thousand years ago, the first monks recognised the beauty of the Dales and established their communities at Bolton Abbey, Jervaulx and 
Fountains Abbey. Although the Abbeys are now in ruins (thanks to Henry VIII), you can still feel the power of these splendid buildings, their settings, and the sense of awe they instil.

​​We still have many small, ancient and beautiful village churches, which offer a place to pause and enjoy quiet contemplation. They tell the story of strong community and families who have remained in this area through the generations. Some have rich, often surprising contents. Most of the churches are open and welcome visitors, to pray and ponder. Take a look at their notice boards for details of village activities such as shows, coffee mornings and talks.

If you'd like to retreat and reflect for longer, Scargill House near Kettlewell offers short breaks and holidays, or you can just pop into their tranquil walled garden. Some of the loveliest and most tranquil sites for quiet reflection are the Quaker meeting houses, particularly at Brigflatts near Sedbergh, Airton near Malham, Settle and Countersett near Bainbridge. 

Where's your favourite view in the Yorkshire Dales? 

In today's blog some locals suggest their favourite places to stand and stare. If you have others you'd like to share please add them in the comments below. 

The 30 degree views from the top of Bolton Castle never fail to uplift and inspire. They are ever changing, beautiful and so atmospheric especially if you imagine how many people must have stood on the same spot over the centuries. 

"There's a fantastic view as you come from Hawes to Thwaite over the Buttertubs. Just as you start to descend, the majesty of Swaledale opens out in front of you. Every time it's different and special because of the fabulous changing light and weather." Glen Payne, Herriots in Hawes. 

"I feel so lucky to be here. Standing at the viewpoint on the road from Hawes to Oughtershaw, especailly when there is an amazing red sun setting over the flat top of Ingleborough. It feels truly on top of the world as you can see the wilderness for miles and miles." Fiona Clark, Nethergill Farm. 

"I love the view from Middlesmoor Church, looking down into Upper Nidderdale. There's not a more beautiful and thought-provoking place in the world!" Anne Challis, Studfold

"Oxenbur Ridge is a flat, limestone pavemented hill. From its top you can see Austwick, village life and farming traditions that stretch back centuries." Paul Reynolds, The Traddock, Austwick. 

"I love to walk up to the top of Fremington Edge and just sit and watch the convergence of Swaledale and Arkengarthdale. Reeth is a perfect spot for a tiny town- no wonder the Romans and Vikings settled here." Jane Sammells, Kitchen Curriculum. 

"The view from the top of Kilnsey Crag at sunrise is pretty hard to beat." Jamie Roberts, Kilnsey Park Estate. 

"It's just a short climb over the canal bridge here in Bank Newton to the top of Banks Hill, and yet there's a wonderful 360 degree panorama taking in Malham Cover and Pendle Hill." Rachel Berry, Newton Grange. 

"I really enjoy the views from Cautley Spout, about half way up (because it's such hard work climbing to the top!). There's a rock you can sit on to look back down the valley, following the ribbon of stream to where it joins the river." Laura Rosenzweig, Laura's Loom.

"Looking out over Thieves Moss from Sulber. It's just such a fantastic view over this sweep of limestone pavement and Crummackdale." Mark Allum. 

"It's wonderful to be in Oxenber Woods at bluebell time, looking across a sea of bluebells and really savouring the scent." Gail Smith, Yorkshire Dales Millennium Trust.

"I love sitting on the top of High Hill from which there is a stunning, panoramic view of Settle, Giggleswick, Pendle Hill, the Bowland Fells, Ingleborough, Pen-y-Ghent, the river Ribble and the Settle-Carlisle Railway." Sue Amphlett, Cottontail Crafts. 

Is your favourite view in the Yorkshire Dales included in this list? If not, do add it in the comments below. Thanks!

A myriad of winding paths take visitors up and down hills, in and out of woods, and around the three lakes, As you follow the paths, it's noticeable how the planting and even the temperature changes, with different areas of interest through out the opening season.

In early Spring you'll find early flowering Rhodos and lots of spring flowers such as wood anemones and primulas, with about 150 varieties of magnolia.

​In May the ferns really unfurl and the bluebells bloom. From then on the colours through out the Garden get stronger and stronger. 

In my mind what makes the Gardens really special are the sculptures. When I first visited a few years ago there were many of them, pleasingly scattered through out the gardens so there was plenty to interest at every turn, some more dramatic than others.

We visited again today. There are now 80 sculptures to find and enjoy, and plenty of 'wow' moments as so many are surprising, huge, dramatic, and beautiful. Some appear to have been made specifically for the site, such as the elongated and elegant Still Sitting by Helen Sinclair by Magnolia Lake. Judging by the gorgeous lichen growing on her back, this stone woman has already been patient for some time. 

Some of the sculptures are very simple like the stone circle made of old gate posts, a mini version of Stonehenge or nearby Druids Temple. From a little distance away the stones look like dancers in a circle joining hands - or maybe that's just in my mind. 

Others are beautiful and thought provoking such as Contemplation Circle by Liam O'Neill whose work even played a role at a difficult moment in the 2007 peace process in Northern Ireland. Irish Prime Minister Bertie Ahern made a highly symbolic presentation to Dr. Ian Paisley of a vessel made from walnut which had grown on the site of the Battle of the Boyne. The gesture promoted Paisley to shake Ahern's hand, calling for continued talks. ​

​We enjoyed watching and speaking to local sculptor Anna Whitehouse who was finishing work on her sculptural spheres, inspired by pollen grains and clay collected from the gardens.

As the weather gets better and better and the Yorkshire Dales come alive with their incredible greenery, it's increasingly tempting to spend time outside.

​You could set out on a challenge like conquering each of the Dales 30 but there are other easier, simple ways to enjoy nature, that we often forget to do.

Here are a few ideas for those who relish the idea of taking life a little more gently. 

Sit on a hillside and whatever the weather, turn your face toward it. Feel the sun on your face or the wind bashing your cheeks for a few moments. Enjoy the simple contentment of absorbing what's happening in that special moment. 

Collect treasure. As you walk look around the ground, on the walls and in the trees. What can you find? Pick up whatever catches your magpie eye - sheep's wool caught on a fence, a curiously shaped pebble, a feather, a conker, a small stick. Keep a few precious treasures in a post on a window sill or in a coat pocket so each time you come across them you're instantly taken back to the place you collected them. 

Splash in a stream, gaze in wonder at a waterfall.

Take a photo of every wildflower and type of grass you see, with the date you first see them and keep a record over a whole year. Once you start to look out for them, you'll be amazed how many you can find. 

Make a date to climb a hill and silently watch the sunshine. Go back later to watch the sun set. 

Sit by a fallen log for a few minutes, perhaps roll it over slightly, and count how many insects you find. When I discover a hidden world like that, I start to wonder about all the life going on around us and under our feet that we don't normally notice. 

Collect some cones, sticks, leafs and create a nature table, remembering the wonder you felt as a child. 

Make a collage or a model out of your nature treasures (we used to call them 'muddles'!).

Wait for the rain. Look out for it after a few dry days and then go out in the rain. Breathe in the fresh smell of petrichor - that wonderful earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil. 

Walk around in the rain, watching the rain drops as they fall and gently balance on the grass or leaves, before plopping to the ground. Relish the idea of the water soaking into the ground, nourishing the earth and making the grass even greener. 

When you're completely soaked to the skin, enjoy that wonderful feeling of putting on dry clothes and going in search of a cosy cafe or country pub!

Aysgarth Rock Garden is a real gem, hidden in plain sight from the many visitors who drive from Hawes to Swinithwaite on the A684. From the road you just see a few rocks and a small gate so it looks like it's a private garden and still bears the original private sign. 

It was closed to visitors for many years but the current owner, Mrs. Anderson welcomes visitors, in return for a donation into the box by the gate towards the upkeep of this lovely little garden. It's small but magical. Young children find it otherworldly, thanks to the twisting paths and low archways created by enormous blocks of limestone.

The Rock Garden feels very calm, set apart from the busy road, with places to sit and just enjoy the birdsong. I love places like this, somewhere an individual created on a whim for their own enjoyment, which years later still brings unexpected pleasure to countless visitors. "Rock Garden" sounds quite harsh, and yet this feels soft and gentle, a welcome respite and chance to just sit and look. 

I love the sweeping views you get from the top of a Yorkshire Dale but sometimes we're so busy looking at the big picture (literally) that we don't notice the magic under our feet and at our sides.

What am I talking about? Lichens.

Many are grey or too pale to get anyone very excited about their colour.

They're usually quite small so thought of as insignificant. They're some of the oldest living organisms in the world but we largely ignore them. They don't smell particularly good. To many they're not very beautiful. They're just there. Seemingly unexciting and even a bit boring. But actually they're not 'just there' everywhere.

Once you delve into the secret world of lichens your walks in the Dales will be filled with even more magic. Here's why I love lichens. 

Lichens are really sensitive to pollution so are a good indicator of fresh air: that's why see them mainly in places like the Dales, and not so much on industrial estates. They may look pretty insignificant but they've got some incredible uses. We may not always acknowledge their usefulness but the Egyptians did. In fact it may be partly thanks to lichen that Egyptian mummies were preserved for us to see - lichen was used to pack their abdomens! 

One kind of lichen which is found in cities, Xanthoria Parietina was used in yellow dye. Xanthos means yellow in Greek but apparently the Greenland Inuit name for it means "sun poo" which I rather like. Another common lichen called Oakmoss is an important ingredient in perfumes, keeping the scent longer (how does anyone discover that?). Tree Moss or Bearded Lichen is edible although it doesn't take great but it does contain masses of Vitamin. Another common lichen, Parmelia Saxatilis is also used for making dyes but I particularly love an old tale of its use. If you could find it growing on an old skull, particularly an executed criminal, it was thought to be an effective cure for epilepsy. Again, how on earth did that come about? 

Lichens are a combined entity - fungi, which makes the structure and algae, which sort of feeds the fungi. They need each other and also the minerals in the surface where they grow so they can be a bit fussy about the trees, bark and locations they grow on. Natural navigators learn how to use this knowledge and the preferences of different lichens to find their way. For example certain lichens like moisture so grow on the northern side of trees - handy to know if you don't have a phone signal and get lost...

Look a little closer and you'll find there are three kinds: leafy, shrubby and encrusting. There's a great guide to their identification here.

Want to feel better?

Spending time among the green scenery and fresh air of the Yorkshire Dales feels good, but what effect does it actually have on well-being?

​Scientific studies have shown the many positive benefits of being outdoors and enjoying nature.

If you need an excuse/reason to leave your desk or encourage your family to spend time in the Dales, here are a few to choose from! 


Researchers at the University of Essex found that after exercising outside:

• 3/4 people feel less miserable and tense
• 2/3 people are in a better mood
• 2/3 people have better self-esteem

A university of Michigan study found that people who spent time outside were more able to solve creative problems, and that the solutions were more practical. 

Stanford University researchers found that creativity improved by an average of 60% when walking.

Green spaces are good for human well-being. It's proven that you can reduce anxiety by gazing at pleasant scenery, enjoying the changing seasons and nature's small surprises. Turning to nature brings instant relief from the hustle and bustle of daily life. It helps still the mind, adds perspective and conveys a sense of wonder. 

It's been found that patients who have a nature view, such as a garden, stay in hospital for less time and require less medication. Natural sounds such as bird song have calming effects. 

Large scale surveys have found that spending time outdoors is particularly good for children: 
​

• It's fun and helps children build secure and happy memories
• Doing simple things like building dens helps children problem solve and co-operate with each other. They learn to assess and understand risks, and overcome challenges
• Children can explore, and use all their senses to understand the natural world, As they see the seasons change and nature develop, they also become more comfortable with change. 
• There's a sense of freedom outdoors that can't be replicated inside, with endless opportunities for creativity, imagination and improved fitness. We tend to be less inhibited outside and more willing to join in activities. 
• When we play outside, however we do it, we become more absorbed, motivated, purposeful and positive.

For many, yellow is the colour of Spring. It's certainly the dominant colour for many of the spring flowers that start to flower at this time of year: Lesser Celandines, Aconites, Daffodils, Coltsfoot, Primroses and Dandelions are some of the most noticeable in the Dales. 

I wondered why so many Spring flowers are yellow and just discovered it's thought the colour helps the few pollinators that are around to find the sparse flowers in low light, and it also helps the plants absorb the weak sun. There's probably a more accurate, scientific explanation - that was my understanding...

I think there's something else very special about spring flowers: they're particularly good for mind, body and spirit. We all start to feel happy when we notice the first snowdrops and then the beginning of the yellows. Our spirits rise and we feel like we can slowly come out of our winter brain-fogged hibernation. Mindful walking may be seen as a modern trend but it's really what many country dwellers do naturally at this time of year, walking slowly loving the new scents, feeling the change in the air on our cheeks, and particularly noticing the different shoots, leaves and flowers all around us. 

Every Spring I make the same resolution: to make sure I notice when every new wild flower appears, to take a photo, identify and note the date and place when I saw it (a modern day version of the Edwardian Country Diary by Edith Holden). By May the flowers are appearing so thick and fast and I'm so happy to be outside I usually get behind and forget. A few years ago, my daughter and I did it the old fashioned way, carefully taking one flower and pressing it before adding it to a flower collection book. We focused on a half acre field that isn't used for anything, where wild flowers and grasses have been left to self-seed.Through that one Spring and early Summer we were amazed to collect over 40 different species of wild flower and grass from just that one field. 

Apart from the odd trendy restaurant that picks wild garlic or nettles for soup, few of us use the fauna around us, Yet when you research it, it's noticeable just how many uses there are for Spring flowers, just as everyone is surfacing from a Winter of coughs, colds and ailments. The name for Coltsfoot apparently comes from 'tussis ago' - drive away a cough - its leaves and flowers can be dried to make tea for relief from coughs and congestion. Lesser Celandine is also known as Pilewort, supposedly because its tubers resemble haemorrhoids and were therefore seen as a suitable cure. You could also use its leaves to prevent scurvy as they contain plenty of vitamin C. 

Dandelions are much maligned when they appear in the middle of the lawn but they're so much more than (very stubborn) weeds. Look up 'health benefits of dandelions' and you'll wonder why we even need the NHS. When I see the first ones in Spring, several memories flood back to me at once - blowing the seed head 'clocks' to tell the time (I was a child in a much simpler time...!), gathering the leaves to feed to my pet rabbit, occasionally eating them tentatively in a salad (they're really good so long as you don't get the ones near the dog's favourite patch of grass...).

My strongest memory took place on the 5th May. That was the date my Uncle Syd declared was always the best day of the year for gathering flowers when they were at their best to make dandelion wine. I have such lovely memories of gathering armfuls of dandelion with my family, Uncle Syd and Auntie Doris - I think of it every 5th May. I have another dandelion memory but it's not quite as strong, somewhat blurred you might say.

​It was weeks later when we all tasted the dandelion wine. My sister and I sat on Auntie Doris' sofa, dangling our skinny short legs in fallen-down socks as we slurped the wine. It was known as 'country wine' so it never seemed to occur to anyone to stop us from drinking it, and yet the blurred vision and headache afterwards was surely due to the alcohol! Cheers to the Spring yellows. 

If you look at a map of the Yorkshire Dales, you’ll see masses of rivers and streams disappearing into the hillside, and roads that apparently lead to nowhere. Small lanes meander through the countryside, getting thinner and thinner, then just stop as if the effort of finding somewhere to go just wasn’t worth it any more.
 
I take a not-so-secret delight in turning off ‘main’ roads in favour of the smaller lanes, particularly if they’re preceded by a dead end sign. ‘Dead end’ sounds so final: I can’t help but push against the boundaries and follow to the end of the road, just to see how and why it stops. There’s usually a moment when fields give way to moors, when a decent road surface gets bumpier and bumpier. Sometimes the road just stops, sometimes it ends with an isolated farm stead, where the cows always look relieved to get some form of entertainment as you perform a 23-point-turn around.  

Dead end roads really should have a nicer name. They all have certain things in common. First, just as you’re driving along wondering when was the last time anyone ever drove down there, a farm vehicle will come out of nowhere and head in your direction. It will be bigger and uglier than your car. You'll feel slightly guilty at enjoying the whimsical freedom of wandering down dead ends with no particular aim while a farmer toils, so you’ll start to reverse without a thought as to that whiplash injury and how easy it actually is to reverse round narrow winding roads for miles on end. When you've eventually passed the tractor, you’ll realise there was a big lay-by just behind the tractor when you first saw it. 
 
Second, there will be something at the end of the road that just seems improbable in today’s modern world. It could be a working phone box. Or a small post box mounted at a jaunty angle on a falling down fence, which displays current times for pick ups and is still in use. Or it might be an incredibly beautiful fence, wall, bridge or some other structure seemingly without purpose and which barely anyone will see. I always feel it's only fair to stand and admire it for a while. 
 
Today’s dead end road ended with a flourish. A small bridge with no obvious purpose on the left, a track leading uphill to a wonderful walk, a red phone box, and a working post box, a second bridge, on the left, this time with a proper use (to get to the other side of the stream), and a solid house with an attractive garden and a dramatic, beautiful ford across the stream as part of its main access. Had I been in possession of one of those wonderful little I-Spy books we had as children, I'd have scored plenty of bonus points. 
 
It’s bizarre – none of these things are very remarkable and yet because it was a dead end, they all felt like wonderful prizes in the lottery of the end of the road.

It's been a beautiful afternoon at the end of a long tiring week so maybe I'm feeling more philosophical than usual. Perhaps the end of the road isn’t always the end of the road – sometimes there’s an extra bridge, track or cosy safe harbour where you least expect it? Or at the very least a few cows and a farmer waiting for you to entertain them. 

Have you ever seen a kingfisher?

Catching even a glimpse of their incredibly bright plumage is an up-lifting treat: it feels like such a thrill should somehow be on a prescription for anyone feeling a bit gloomy and pessimistic about life.

I've already written about the benefits of our house being flooded - one of them is that the morning after a greedy kingfisher always makes an appearance, tucking into the glut of small fish in the mill pond. 

We're lucky enough to see it quite regularly: he seems to have spates of showing up a few days running at almost exactly 11.00 am, then disappearing and changing its regular appearance just to make sure we're being observant. Every time when we see it, we feel the need to point out to anyone around 'ooh, there's the kingfisher!' If it's on a work day I'm often on the phone, so client conversations are punctuated with these words - irrelevant to them, but meaning I'm slightly distracted as I watch. I'm sure some think I'm fibbing because it's such an unreal sight. 

I haven't yet discovered where its nest is but it's presumably quite near by. They create a nest burrow in sandy soil on a vertical bank without any vegetation, making a tunnel where the eggs are laid. A while ago, dedicated wildlife artist Robert E. Fuller investigated and filmed kingfishers as they nested.

Kingfishers are flashy, their colours impossibly glamorous on a dull Dales day. If humans dressed so well in the Dales, everyone would ask where they were going. I love their lush colours but also admire their equality.

Unlike some bird species where the female looks dowdy and ground down by the daily effort of being a female, male and female kingfishers are almost identical except for their beak - the female looks a little like she's wearing lipstick. The male and female create the burrow together, and it's used two or three times in quick succession - once you've seen the work involved, you'll understand why they make full use of it! And they both share in incubating the birds. The chicks have lovely manners in the nest: they're fed in rotation and then go to the back of the nest to digest their fish, letting the other chicks move to the front of the queue. 

They're not quite so pleasant once they fledge. After kingfishers have swooped into the water for fish they perch somewhere hard and repeatedly strike the fish. Sometimes I've watched them and been quite sure the fish was dead but they always seem to give it an extra strike for good measure. They prefer to eat small fish such as sticklebacks (doesn't the very name conjure up childhood memories?) and minnows but will also help themselves to 'my' frogspawn too. Speaking of which, I've normally found some by now but not sighted it in the mill pond yet.