Today the light was so erratic that the heather’s tones were elusive…And so the promise of colour to come was part of what I was seeing; and yet this rough carpet seemed to swallow light. The dark heather, with its dark roots, and beneath the dark roots the dark earth. Even the footpath puddles were black. Strung across a fence were seven scraps of brightly coloured cloth — these were Tibetan prayer flags, sanctifying the peaty air. The colour, against the moor, was pungent.
William Atkins from The Moor: A journey into the English wilderness