It is a wild day today. The trees are bending and crashing in the wind. We go to the feed merchants over a very swollen River Ure and River Cover - carrying vast tree trunks with them as they cascade downstream. Trees are down everywhere. Where one has fallen across the road someone has already been with a chain saw and sawn the trunk into pieces. All is piled neatly by the side of the road.
Where a tree has been ripped up in the field it lies, its roots cruelly exposed, its limbs broken and scattered - a giant felled in an instant. A buzzard rips a rabbit apart and devours it in the middle of one field and along the side of the road a sparrow hawk darts, below hedge height; although whether to keep out of the wind or to chase a little bird it is impossible to say.
The sky is very beautiful. Layers of angry cloud, some black, some grey, some silvery-white, overlay one another and here and there bright rays of sunshine push through. We can see another hail storm passing down the dale and we run into a torrent as we arrive at the feed merchants.
Sheep huddle against stone walls, keeping well out of the force of the wind. The hail, when it comes, is sharp and cuts into the skin. At least we end up with rosy cheeks.
Now indoors with all animals fed and watered, hens shut in, curtains drawn, log burning stove glowing I write this and look out of the hall window in front of me to see the most magnificent sunset. The whole sky is pale apricot edged with black clouds. There is such beauty in this wild weather.