Lightwood was the walk menu for recently de-balled Sid this weekend. A decommissioned reservoir turned nature reserve (what does this mean?) with careful planning and ongoing care in Buxton. This is in the hood. A daily walk. Out the house, Sid standing up, front paws on the wall by the front door ever hopeful to see the neighbours who make a massive fuss of him, turn left, walk down to the junction, turn right and up a road that becomes a peak track (see below). On the edge of town.

This ain’t Mam Tor or Stannage Edge. Or any of the myriad Peak winners. And yet it’s beautiful. Paths crisscross the area, from flat and easy-ish to quite a climb. And opportunities to break out across the moorland at the top to Whaley Bridge and further. Varying circles of pleasure. Quiet. The odd car parked at the end of the road or along the track before it becomes a path.

Dog paradise. Evidenced by unsuited (it had to go once the vet gave the recovery nod, sorry) Sid.

A mesmerising and unusual wonderland. In Winter and across the year.

Like much of the peaks, Lightwood seems to offer its own edges. The edge of town. The edges of now derelict reservoir machinations and buildings among wooded, hilly, cascading (Buxton) water and rock hewn terrain. The edge of snowfall and frost marked by a dry stone wall.

“I came from Macclesfield this morning,” said a woman gingerly walking out of the flat ‘compound’ for older people in our road. “There was no snow. Nothing like this.”

I’m slowly beginning to recognise that these aren’t edges at all.