This is Winter Hill in the west Pennines. It's an alternately inviting and inhospitable place – depending on the weather as the name might suggest. So when it figured fairly prominently in my novel Bunderlin it should hardly be surprising that the weather became a major player in that story. Martin, the finder-out-of-what-was-going-on moved into a cottage at the foot of the hill. And got snowed in, of course. Folk who live there for real will have lots weather stories to tell.
Locations are always important in my writing so quite naturally the weather blows through my pages quite often. A little while back I had torrential rain battering the forest where my current story takes place. It felt strange taking a break and stepping out into warm sunshine to take the dogs for a walk!