The Definition of Beauty

If I could paint you the definition of beauty, The Lakes would be what I drew.

The details needed to create the idyllic rivers that run through small towns and villages is immense.

Every colour you can imagine make up the glorious scenery. Every shade of green, blue and brown is used.

The Lakes are where the sky rests on the mountains, that are held up by the waters underneath.

The rainy days, in which there are quite a few, create a reflection in the water, where I can see myself in plain sight view.

Drystone walls, mile upon mile to separate the farming lands where horses, sheep and cows graze.

In spring, you needn’t look far to find lambs skipping through the grass, or calves feeding from their mothers.

In summer months, Windermere is beautifully congested with people from around the world who have travelled to see its beauty.

Travelled to see the sociable swans sitting on the grounds in which you have your ice cream.

Travelled to embark on treks of acclivity, leaving them in awe of the wonders of what’s beneath them from the top of Scafell, Helvellyn and Skiddaw.

Writers adopt The Lakes as a place of serenity, a place to compose the words that entangle their hearts.

You can never wander lonely as a cloud, because you’re surrounded by eloquence, stillness and elegance.

That’s why Wordsworth made a home in Grasmere, plain living but high thinking.

What I’m trying to say is that The Lakes are exquisite, full of wonders you can only imagine.


If I could paint you the definition of beauty, The Lakes would be what I drew.

Image courtesy of Joseph Whyle

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