Standing lichen proud and stalwart in their very gravity, these are the bones of the dales.
Stretching to the high fells like the ribs of a mythic beast, they are testament to toil, craft and cunning eye.
Each stone has been placed with the long practised skill of the waller.
From father to son this art is an heirloom of the high places, an inheritance as unbroken as the walls themselves.
It is always a joy to see them again, cope and face, clinker and throughstone.
Here I am always home.
Photo courtesy of the author.
