In David Hockney's territory

The good thing about being a priest in Yorkshire is that the countryside here is idyllic and varied. So when I heard about David Hockney's new exhibition of landscape paintings of the Yorkshire Wolds at the Royal Academy, I decided to go and walk there on Monday, my day off. I hooked up with a friend from Middlesbrough Diocese and we drove to Sledmere after a lovely lunch of pork and apple casserole with rice pudding (plus extra cream). The Wolds (for those who don't know them) consist of irregular rows of gentle hills, with lots of long curving hollows, presumably produced by rivers and streams at one point. It is a remote region - you come across farms only occasionally - which is situated about 15 miles inland from the glorious east coast resort of Bridlington.

As we tramped over the white, frost-hardened ground, past occasional flocks of sheep, surprising the odd pheasant, we chanced upon the first snowdrop of the season. The light was almost horizontal for much of the walk throwing into sharp relief the bare branches of the trees, many of which had been bent back by the wind, there being no large hills to protect them. At my friend's suggestion, we said the rosary, a devotion which lends itself nicely to the rhythm of walking. I often feel disinclined to pray when on a walk, concerned  to be honest that it might reduce my pleasure in the day. But somehow, the opposite happens: I've found that the prayer helps me to engage more deeply with the surroundings; or to put it another way, the prayer adds lustre to nature and perfects it. It's an extraordinary thing to experience and very consoling. As the dusk gathered the wide skies became crimson at the horizon. It had become dark when we reached the village once more and across the fields an owl hooted, beginning its nightly hunt. After such a splendid walk, and fortified by three mugs of tea and a large piece of iced Christmas cake at my friend's family home, I felt ready to embrace the challenge of the coming week.