HILL is about all aspects of the hill, including the community. We've been asking people to contribute by sending photos and
poems or by telling us how they feel about the Hill. If you would like to contribute, please contact us.
Sheep coming over Harboro Rocks for a feed, by Ian Lomas.
The Hill by Christine Spencer
At the end of the Ecclesbourne Valley,
Is a hill rising up out of Wirksworth
Then on up to Middleton village,
A place of leadmines and limestone.
Small cottages lining the main street,
A pub at each end and a church in the middle,
A school and a warm, close community,
Makes Middleton perfect for me.
The hill's an irrisistabe challenge
For those who love to explore,
Climbing steeply out of Midleton,
You very soon come to the moor.
A better view you're unlikely to find,
In the middle of |Derbyshire, far from the sea,
With the rolling hills and the galleon clouds
There is no place I would rather be.
There's wild orchids and cowslips and skylarks
Soaring jackdaws and sometimes a raven,
And Peace, to forget all your troubles
For a while, as you walk on the hill.
Just seeing the world laid out beneath you - it's like owning the planet
I stand on the moor and I breathe in the air, and I feel content.
I like the moor. I like the top of the moor. I like the dip from the mine collapse - I just like going across there and looking. Everywhere's below you. It's fantastic.
It meant a lot to me, years ago. [you're bound to have seen things change from one thing to another] Oh yes, I mean there were a lot of dust years ago, but it were Middleton's bread and butter, years ago wasn't it? It isn't now and I suppose it's quite picturesque I talk to visitors and they say oh what a beautiful village! And it is, it is. A lot of improvements have been made in Middleton and it's all been to the good. I say if I were 20 years younger I could definitely come back
Running off the week's stresses and strains. Finding oneself on the moor unable to continue because your throat is closing up as past painful memories engulf. Stopping near that wonderful wriggly lone tree with the sheep wool attached to it. Breathing. Stopping. Acknowledging the feelings and letting them pass. Look up at the deep blue sky on this gorgeous April afternoon. Silence. A bumblebee drone and the distant whirl of the turbines giving a sense of hope for the future. Look over to black rocks. Time to move on. Ruth Woolsey
Living here is great because you can look up at the stars and you can hear the quiet.
It's a killer. An absolute killer. Running back up that hill - it's hard work
Flying kites on a windy day and running up to the very top and then rolling down the hill.
What is Middleton? by Dawn Greatorex
Is it the cold, piercing wind
Wuthering in the heights on the moor?
Bedecked with cowslips and orchids.
Or, is it the glorious, golden sunshine
In the darling buds of May?
Is it a stay from D H Lawrence
As he wandered like a cloud
Into the fields of green grass
With painted cows standing to attention?
Perhaps it is the marble decor
Residing in our humble abode
As we awaken to the cockerel crowing
And the cooing of the pigeons?
Could it be the Village Green?
Adorned in its flowered glory.
An insect haven,
With: buzzing buff tailed bumble bees;
Divine Messenger ladybirds;
Marmalade hoverflies and
Fit indeed for any King.
But wait, I beg your pardon,
I mustn't forget the Millennium Garden!
Jewelled with diamonds and emeralds
And rubies... all draped, dazzling
In the dew dropped morning.
Or, is it their glorious garlands
journeying far and wide?
Down to the telephone box to greet
The Rising Sun, stepping back up the Village
Smiling, "Hello, Lord Horatio Nelson."
"Farewell, Good old Duke of Wellington!"
Or, could it be the priceless Mr Pepper's
Pies, pasties and cakes? Our daily bread -
A church and a chapel to worship
The Mount of Zion.
Perhaps a spot of yoga in the Village Hall?
A walk with the dog? Or, a mountain bike ride?
Maybe a knit and natter?
It could be the Light Gauge Railway
Chugging the Santa Specials.
H O! H O!
Or, the switching on of the Christmas Lights?
Or, is it the chunking of the New Holland tractor
Mowing the fields and making hay
While the sun shines
In our Blooming Middleton?
Could it possibly be the limestone?
Headstones for our fallen soldiers.
Whatever it is, 'just pack up your troubles in your old kit bag!'
Be happy and proud because...
WE Make Middleton!
The hill means freedom. It's the children's playground, my running ground. The air is better up there, the views are amazing and I feel so lucky that we have it there. It's also got all the history - you know, the caved-in bit that we hear guys who actually worked there at that time. That's all pretty cool. It's brilliant.
It's the bit that gives me the pain when I walk up it
Well it's obviously home, yeah it is home, but it's - a view, it's - a livelihood, it's - there's always a bit of mystery about it because you sort of hear - people come and tell you when the wilfdflowers, when the orchids are up there and it's whether or not you're actually going to find time to actually go up and see them so there's always that. Oh and it's also - are there cows up there, so can you take the dog up there or is it going to be a problem, but, I suppose overwhelmingly it's just a home.
Sunrise over the hill, by Ian Lomas.
We bought a house before we saw inside the house. We bought it because we liked the hill. We walked up onto the moor - and it was snowy - and it was beautiful, and we didn't care what the house was like, we were just going to live here. That's what we think about the hill.
We looked at houses in Bonsall and Crich, and then we looked at houses in Middleton. And we came to the one on Chapel Lane where we now live, and we looked through the window and the view was fantastic and we just bought the house because of the view. How crazy is that?
Living on a hill we've got these fabulous views. Coming out here, we can see the valley in front of us and there's 360 degrees almost of other hills around us, which you don't see when you're necessarily in a valley