white concrete house photography

We meandered along Wordsworth’s favorite walking valley–the Duddon Valley, The Lake District, UK–the clouds got moody, threatening rain. I was hungry, but there was no inn or pub for miles. Then we stumbled on this old farm. It felt both haunting and mysterious and strangely inviting. Kinda like we’d stepped into a place that hadn’t changed much for hundreds of years (aside from the asphalt road). Despite its brooding quality, I also love the light that dances in the clouds and on the pavement; a sign of the light that is always present even in the darker times of our lives.