Driving

I drove over to Ilkley in Yorkshire this evening to pick up my mother. Re-reading that, it sounds funny, but I'm not going to re-write. Set off about half past six, quarter to seven. I came off the M60/62 and headed on the M66 Bury-Colne-Skipton route. I love the spectacle of Saddleworth Moor high on the tops, but this way, the Colne direction, I enter Yorkshire through the quiet way in. The hills spread almost immediately beyond the towns and you sense very soon that the countryside is nearby.
The sunset tonight glowed to my left and then behind. Deep rose flushed with warmth. And as Addingham and Ilkley loomed, Beamsley Beacon and the moors and tree tops lay tinged in a golden pink glow as the sky began to darken and the sun dipped behind the horizon as at a private bonfire.
The air smelt clean and of straw. I know what I mean by that! A tractor ploughed late. Three horses, sheep grazing, cows, heads down nuzzling grass.
It was a good drive. It felt like home.