It turns out it is eight years (eight years!) since I last visited Dimminsdale so I was long overdue a return visit. The last couple of years hardly count because of the pandemic, but that does not explain why it has taken me so long to revisit. 
The nature reserve is mainly made up of disused limeworks. There are shafts and steep drops and you are advised to stick to the path.
As I walked around I thought about how this place could evoke fairy tales and mysterious stories. I had been listening to The Weirdstone of Brinsingamen by Alan Garner on the drive to the reserve and it was weaving itself around this place, with an added dose of Stig of the Dump by Clive King for good measure. 
Anything seemed possible. 
The landscape is heavily imprinted up by man (and yes, I do mean men) and now nature has reclaimed and restored peace to the area.
You walk along thinking, but where are the snowdrops? and then bam! there they are,
.... so many of them...
They must have been planted originally by someone as Galanthus nivalis are not native to this country, but there they are, naturalised and providing scent and also food for early pollinators.
There was something important about this trip out too, it was my first snowdrop visit of the year. I have got very remiss in visiting snowdrop places over the period of the pandemic. I have got out of the habit and so made myself get in the car and go. I was so glad I did.
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