Elterwater, Tilberthwaite

The hills are hidden behind a mist of falling snow.  The valley below the house is heavily wooded and the snow is falling through bare trunks onto the ground; beautiful.   This morning we drove up Langdale to Elterwater to see Kurt Schwitters' famous barn.  But the wooden gates were firmly locked and the whole place was closed.  The barn is in a wood which has very limited views of the great landscape of valley and steep fells beyond; a place for introspection not absorption.  The gates were turquoise blue, bleached and scuffed, a landscape work in themselves, secured by great iron hinges to great slabs of stone.  Were they old enough to be there when he was there, I wonder?  And across the road was a timeshare/country club/restaurant complex; the smart cars stared at two art pilgrims and their filthy car as we peered over the wall.  But with a small child our days of scrambling over walls are over.  

A narrow lane off the Coniston road took us up into Tilberthwaite, a narrow, twisting valley with one road in/out and a rocky river.  Steep hills dotted with indifferent sheep.  The valley broadened after a mile or so and the river ran beneath a modern stone bridge.  In the valley floor was a sheep fold by Andy Goldsworthy, a large square space enclosed by a dry stone wall. He had inserted four slate panels into the walls, each with a moon-eye of slate within it.  The effect was simple, dramatic and strong.  It was cold in Tilberthwaite and as we drove out of the valley it started to snow.