Lastingham and Rabbit pie

Lastingham Church

Today we went back to Lastingham village, again to see the church of Cedd and to have rabbit pie but it was not on the menu, they sold frozen ones so we shall eat a pie tomorrow for tea.  Left Whitby in a mist and then ascended over the moors in a complete fog, so that we had to drive carefully for about 10 miles without another car in sight, until one came upon us unexpectedly - no lights and grey colour, just missed them.....

Descending into the dales and Rosedale the world turned magically into a beautiful spring day, thick clusters of cowslips, primroses, starwort all along the banks, and masses of other flowers - stunning, this place we both agreed is beginning to feel like home.  Arrived at the pretty (but expensive no doubt) village of Lastingham we went to the Blacksmith's Arms pub, its old and opposite the church.  Tankards line the ceiling, bright copper pans and bits and pieces adorn the fireplace.

There is a feeling of excitement as we enter the church and then go down to the crypt with all its Saxon stones laid out and I have written about it here, I think it is because Cedd in the 7th century, came to this lonely spot and decided to build an abbey, and the church today reflects this. But what a place to build something, in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of the moors with a great ridge behind, strange but for all this it did not stop the Vikings from laying waste to the monasteries round here.

As I familiarise myself with the countryside, I realise that the places we have been looking at are near to each other, firstly Wade's Causeway or the Roman road, in actual fact goes straight to the Cawthorn Roman Camps and if you look at this map taken at Cawthorn Camps you can see how the landscape works, with Lastingham and Rosedale Abbeys in the distance.

These incense stones are Romans and are in the church, there use though is rather macabre, the soldiers, in some sort of rite were supposed to burn charcoal in them, if they refused, they were not Christian and therefore executed.

One of the plants we saw lining the banks in places was Angelica Archangel (I think) is a beautiful tall plant,  pale creamy white umbelliferus flowers, and this is one I took last year overlooking the harbour.

Alexander Angelica??

This photo echoes the landscape seen in the Cawthorn Camp illustration.

Tessa's sister Jan showing off

Jan at 14 weeks

This is a video of Jan  the collie bitch and the sister of Tessa who was flown to America and you can see why Tessa was so wanted.  Jan's video shows a a 14 week old puppy doing exactly what a trained collie would do though this is her very first time with sheep, it is extraordinary how grown up she is and knows exactly what to do.  She has a very proud breeder over the moon with his new protege, though Roy will not begin training her till she is 7/8 months old, doesn't look as if she needs much.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GfnVxCKqyY&feature=youtu.be

Catching up

Catching up... We went for the most glorious drive to find a prehistoric stone the other day, it is called Wade's Stone (north), it all began when we turned off the main road and followed one of those little lanes to the sea. Past muddy road farm houses, and then sharp downward travel amongst old woods, three fords we crossed.

The woods were in that old stage, trees falling over on their own volition, mossy green from the damp air and the faint haze of bluebells in the depths of the wood.  Wind anemones clung to the banks, not quite open but shaking their white heads in the faint breeze.  Ransoms on the verge as well, introduced LS to the taste and we brought some home, to be used sparingly in cooking - very sharp and garlicky. 

The stone we found easily, as the farmer and his friendly wife were just parked near the gate to the fields we had to walk through; instructions were don't take bags as the sheep will think you are coming to feed them.

The first field we walked through had the remains of a largish olive coloured egg, maybe pheasant, also little lamb tails.  Second field held the selfsame lambs and their mothers, nonchalantly lounging about, the lambs in pairs playing around the stone.  This stone has been restored (it fell over) by North York Moors organisation, and there is a companion stone about half a kilometre away, the South one, which we saw but did not walk up to.  Perhaps they are marking stones to the sea.  

Had to get back for a lunch date with my daughter and her husband, and we tried the food at Wetherstone, cheap with a drink thrown in, but not good the food, they need a better cook.

It is a shame I have no photos of the wild flowers to put on and not being able to put them together with my diary/blog means that I shall seriously think of a new computer soon.

Shamrock

This is Shamrock she came into the Animal Asia sanctuary in January with 5 other bears.  This is a bear that has been caged for most of her life and suffered pain through bile extraction.  She was encouraged out of her indoor enclosure by placing food tidbits hidden in various places.  What is she interested in? it's the sky, that marvellous blue thing above her head that fills her world of freedom as the food fills her belly.

As I have watched the photos of these poor maligned bears on facebook, the thing that is so impressive is their gentle natures as they adjust, sometimes after many years, to this new natural world outside the realm of their caged existences.

This a video of Peter, very reluctant at first to leave the shelter of  his indoor den, and the report by the sanctuary's vet Vic...

"After his tentative first steps Peter’s courage has grown with each passing day and he is now enjoying the whole area and what it has to offer. He’s moving log and rock piles and learning to forage for the goodies hidden by staff as he follows their scent around the enclosure.

“He enjoys stretching to retrieve food hidden by the team in log walls or on the firehose hammock. His steady character has served him well through the whole process of rehabilitation. His long body is also beginning to fill out and we are now getting a glimpse of a magnificent adult male bear he was born to be. He had his monthly weigh-in this week and is now a healthier 124 kg opposed to the 107 kg he was in January shortly after arriving. This gentle giant of a bear really is learning and experiencing that life can be good.”

This film, taken by Bear Team Supervisor Ai, captures Peter walking round his enclosure on a beautiful day, birds singing and butterflies fluttering - following a trail of treats laid out by staff trying to encourage him to forage as he explores. Peter is becoming increasingly brave - even doing his best to ignore an occasionally noisy neighbour in the next enclosure."

Penny Hedges

Weather here is so cold, as I suppose most of the country is..... well they did say that climate change could go one way or the other, obviously we are heading the other way!  Life is spent catching up on things to do, hanging rails for the bedroom are up, towel rails of course, one sits behind a beam and the other over a cupboard doorway, Laura (Visit England rep) has not visited though yet but the bookings are coming in and I doubt if we shall come back to the cottage this summer.

Last week we missed an old ceremony down by the quay, the Penny Hedge, the following Wiki explains it, 

it feels like a  slightly earlier 'Celtic' tale with the boar seeking shelter in the sanctity of a monks hut, but the ceremony still goes on and the wattle fence is still built, apparently according to my daughter when the tide is out you can still see the old hedge of last year, did Canute inspire this tradition I wonder?

The Penny Hedge is an ancient tradition in the English coastal town of Whitby in Yorkshire.

The legend dates back to 1159, when the Abbot of Whitby imposed a penance on three hunters, and on their descendants for all time, for murdering a hermit at Eskdaleside.

The hunters were following a wild boar near Whitby. When the boar took refuge in a hermitage at Eskdaleside, the nobles set upon the monk living there, who had closed the door on the hounds. Before he died, the monk consented to forgive them and spare their lives if they and their descendants would enact a penance.

Each year, on the eve of Ascension Day, on the shore of Whitby, they had to construct a short hedge from stakes woven together, able to withstand three tides. The instructions stipulated that a knife "of a penny price" was to be used.

The ceremony is still performed in Whitby every year on Ascension Eve, by the occupiers of the land formerly owned by the Abbot. A horn is sounded and followed by the cry "Out on ye! Out on ye! Out on ye!"

Whitby Abbey

Part two

Today we went to Todmorden, down the Caldervale  valley, alongside the Calder River.  What to make of it, first visits means you have to take in a large amount.  Firstly the steepness of the valley, high ridges, but woods cling to the side with that disparity of colour that makes it all beautiful.  The flat land along by the river has villages and small towns, an untidy jumble of houses, dark and dour I must say, the grime of years past has gone but the colour of the stone is cold.  There is an industrial air along the road, where there once large mills, open spaces now predominate, you know that weaving took place in many of the houses because they have those glass panelled long windows on the first floor for light.  It was a dull day, so the sun did not enliven the scene, when we arrived at Todmorden, but it is a traditional Yorkshire town, pretty in places. There was an open air market, also a covered market as well but that was closed today.  We wandered along the canal path, and admired the beds of vegetables and herbs which you are invited to pick, the bed round the market was the best, gooseberry and currants already forming, how do you stop yourself from being greedy and picking the whole lot I wondered?  Good things are cheap houses, a very cheap meal and of course tea and chocolate cakes for the girls in the tiniest of tearooms surrounded by bits and pieces.  I could grow to like this corner of Yorkshire especially as my family are determined to live there but at the moment I feel lost like a piece of flotsam on the sea - too many changes recently.

Weaver windows in a typical house - Jonathan Long  @ Creative Commons

Just along the road from Todmorden is the Lancashire border and I must say that the countryside is weird, again fairly rough and wild but strange formations meet the eye,  I am sure a certain amount of the land must have been mined, along the valley there are the occasional tall brick chimney stack as well.  I have grown used to the moors of North Yorkshire, their brown bleakness offset by green valleys have a less closed in appearance, each landscape so different and yet part of the same county.

On Saturday we went to a lecture on the Saxon Princess at Street, Loftus, given by Dr.Sherlock, it was very well attended and the exhibition of the finds in the museum very well done. The Saxon burial ground with about 120 burials lined neatly round a square, was in actual fact on an earlier bronze age/neolithic age burial ground and also Iron Age huts just to add to the confusion of the excavation, so one must imagine that this was sacred ground. One of the other things was the fact that some of the jewellery was reused by the Saxons, Roman and prehistoric beads, glass and I think gold remade into different objects.
I need a link for this one...

or two; Loftus Saxon Princess Word Press

Street House Burial

This and That

Early morning....just listening to the seagulls that live and sleep on the chimneys round here.  Sometimes they sound like a dog or a cat, occasionally in the middle of the night a great cacophony will break out as they all talk at once. Pale blue eyes and a sharp beak that is how they first strike you, pretty chequered black and white tail on the one that flies down into the yard braving our next door neighbour running down the steps and shooing them off.  We have starlings, sparrows and pigeons as well in the yard fed by my other neighbour.

We have made arrangements for the spare bed to go to a charity, and he arrives this morning to take it away.  Yesterday evening we had the electrician, Chris in to 'pass' all our electrical stuff, took two hours, surprising what you have in a small cottage!  They all have their small 'pass' tickets now, tis an odd world we live in, making safe everything that could possibly go wrong - is it possible?

Yesterday we braved the new enormous 'Wetherspoon' restaurant, pub and hotel which has gone up in lightening speed next to the harbour; all chic and modern, not my favourite place and the food did not look inspiring.  But we made arrangements to go to Todmarden with the family on Sunday, they are so impressed with the place.  Saturday there is a lecture at the museum on the Anglo-Saxon Loftus burial discovery, but I have a feeling I am expected to go out to tea with the children, so no lecture for me.

There is something also to keep an eye on in my old town Bath.  The council have put forward a plan for the building of several hundred homes on green field sites (yes welcome to the new planning laws bought in by the conservatives- sod green belts! ).  One estate is to be built up on the downs at a village called South Stoke,(South of Bath of course as is North Stoke - North; A/S names) and the people of South Stoke are not too pleased about it.  Further it blights part of the Wansdyke that starts at Maes Knoll hill fort, though there is some disagreement here.  The 8th century Saxon dyke is very slight here round Bath, it is probably a territorial mark, and apart from using the River Avon as part of the 22 miles length also took in an old Roman road over the downs to Chippenham.  Most people are familar with the East part of the dyke that runs over the Marlborough downs and its much more substantial  bank and ditch. Battle has commenced with early medieval historians taking up the campaign and Rescue making a weighty objection.
Bath has of course a Saxon history as well, and I have probably written about it elsewhere but not on this blog, North Stoke has an old church built on the foundations of a Roman building, making it slightly angled from the position of east/west.  The late Roman villas round Bath were very substantial and though most interest is in the Roman baths plenty of stuff round the city attests to wealthy, presumably 'veterans' Romans taking up residence.  Just reading a very good book on Boudicca, a stormy lady no doubt but with a good cause......

Old photo of Egton

Yorkshire road

Egton

Whitby's crowd has thinned out since the Bank Holiday Monday, when we arrived on Sunday it was even difficult to get into the car park, but not difficult to park near the cottage in Flowergate.  So the desk unloaded fairly easily.  Next day taking the bed down was fairly easy and so the desk is installed in the attic and the computer has a home.  Sadly the computer is having problems, though it works normally on most stuff, little things keep happening, my Microsoft Word has disappeared, photos won't load up and icons refuse to reveal their source, all annoying.  Maybe I need a new computer, spent £100 last year on having the programme taken off and then reinstated, so it would probably be cheaper to get another laptop in the end......

Yesterday went for a drive after shopping, took the little lane down to Grosmont, whenever I am tempted by cottages in the country, this lane always tells me another story.  It clings to the side of a fairly steep deep valley, and is a bit of a roller coaster ride, the gardens of the occasional cottage cling to the side of the valley. Absolutely beautiful of course, and especially late spring with little lambs gambolling around and cowslips in the hedgerows.  We did not stop in Grosmont, a small stopping station for the steam train but went on to Egton; wide green verges back on to an ideal Yorkshire village with neat houses of Yorkshire stone. Sat outside the Wheatsheaf, and watched the house martins wheel and dive in a clear blue sky.  Next to us a company of sparrows flew in and out of bush busily doing sparrow work.  The landlord said that inside one of the rooms in the pub it sounds like an aviary for they occupy spaces within the roof.  The pub which was also very pretty, seemed to have had the old village school attached.

The moors are dark, dark brown, from Horcum Hole, and there has been a big fire on Fylinsgdale Moor, so a blackened charred landscape greets you on the left, this, believe it or not, was caused by a spark from the steam train which I mentioned earlier.  The train can be seen cutting through the ravine that dissects the moor at this stage - dramatic landscape.

Monday evening we wandered down to the quay, along the arcade centres on the front, and then had a cone of chips from the Magpie.  People were of course queueing to go inside the restaurant, mostly people eat the fish and chips from this famous restaurant, but it offers a whole menu of different fish with new potatoes and vegetables or salads, it is a  pity this side of the business is somewhat neglected.

Tessa

Tessa is a 12 week old border collie puppy and yesterday (thursday) our friend Roy drove down from his home in Cornwall to Heathrow Airport to put her on a plane to America to Chicago to her new home.  Unfortunately, let us say it was a 'cock up' she was sent to San Diego instead.  This is a three month old pup, leaving her mother and litter behind, stressful enough, but one of the requirements was that she was not fed, so an empty stomach as well.

This is to be the rest of the journey.........

 I can't apologize enough for the added stress in moving your puppy. with pet express has her set up for Delta flight 1406 departing at 1055 p.m tonight arriving in Detroit at 0623 tomorrow morning the connecting flight is Delta 6070 departing at 8:51 arriving Grand Rapids at 9:44 tomorrow morning.The agent for Pet Express will call you in the morning........ 

Apart from the worry by both Roy and the new owner, all this travel for a small pup is not good, not sure what the moral of the story is, perhaps do not rely on British Airways to ship animals, anyway they are getting a very strong complaint from Roy.

As everyone must have gathered by now I hate cruelty, so my concerns are with a young puppy who has not been allowed food on flight, hopefully she will have been fed in between flights and hopefully strongly worded emails will have some effect.......

 JCS said she was not to be fed as it was not allowed before wheels up and would be fed on arrival at Chicago. That would mean she would be going without food for over 24 hours before arriving in the USA. If the same policy was enforced prior to her two further connecting flights then she is going to be in serious trouble both physically and mentally. Can you confirm to me please that she was fed and watered on arrival at San Diego or prior to any further flights.

Not sure what poor Tessa must be feeling but I'm sure everyone will be thankful when she finally arrives at her new home.


Update; 4th May she has arrived safely thank goodness.

Photos and nostalgia

Yesterday picking photos for May Day, I came across some of these on my Flickr, though not the one at the top, which I love for its smooth sage green landscape and the feel of the dusty downs in hot summer.

Early morning walking all those years ago, gave me an insight into the animals, foxes, deer and hares that lived up on the downs, the golden plovers that rested in the grass up there.  Creeping up one morning on my knees to them to take a photo, with Moss standing quietly behind me, obedient to not disturbing them. The rutted stone lane of the sheep photo reminds me that this path has probably been used since prehistoric times to go down to the River Avon, from Solsbury Hill several miles away, further along the path are the remains of an old cottage and stone building, which probably were part of the quarrying that took place in the 18th/19th century.

The blue of cat's mint against the grey of its leaf is a good garden colour, the sharp astringent scent one of the memories of the garden; the Penstemon 'red garnet' was a cutting taken from many years of owning this plant, which came from a Devon nursery.

What can you say about Carew Castle, elegant Norman castle transformed at a later date built for keeping the Welsh in order by the wicked English, romantic ruin now, but very elegant and quietly situated by the small lake that keeps the water in for the tall, rather graceless mill.  On the other side the Milford Haven tidal estuary, some would say where the bluestones for Stonehenge were floated down, but who knows? 

James Russell, short extract from his book on the painting of Chalk Roads on the South Downs

This is an Eric Ravilious, 'Chalk roads on the South Down', seen on F/B this  morning via  James Russell, 

This is Carew Castle next to the great tidal mill at Carew

Golden plovers in flight on the Bath downs

Favourite walk and lazy sheep under Littledown Hillfort

Cat's mint and penstemons

Old garden

This was a 'secret path'  turn right and you went into one of the high fields bounded by old woods, turn left and you could find where the deer lay at night.

Happy Beltane Day or May Day

Photos from 2006 the canal path from Bath to Bradford on Avon, it is a beautiful valley and the river Avon runs alongside.  Some of the canal boats that line the path at Bathampton....

Moss gets by safely from these hostile swans

Off to Whitby

Taken from the Daily Mail article.

Another Goth weekend has gone by with all its incredible costumes and people.  From  this link on the Daily Mail, you can see so many interpretations on the old Dracula story, that you begin to wonder if the British are mad ;), young girls like the sexy side of it and men trail round in deep black, often with bloody faces and old fashioned goggles seem to be the new thing.  Gandalf and other various members of the cast of 'Lord of the Rings' made an appearance, though someone argued that it was Saramand dressed in white.  I believe the cottage must have hosted Goths as well, hopefully Mary was not too upset.

We are going to Whitby this weekend, my love is already packing the desk into the car so we can judge how much room is left for everything else that needs going down.   I am busy knitting the little things Lillie requires for her beloved (hideous) doll at the moment, bread and apple pie made this morning and worrying about my plants.  The chill nip in the air first thing in the morning is not good for cucumber and courgette plants, but they will have to be left out.

We are also making plans to stay with a cousin of LS down in Cornwall in June, and doing some megalithic tours with a friend, who also an expert on border collies, training and writing about them, and has 10 dogs, sadly I can't have one of the pups though.

Here we all are, except LS cos he does not like appearing on the net and is probably taking the photo, about three years ago, Tom the eldest is at university at Hendon now studying criminology, whilst Matilda at front is still into her dancing and drama.  Little Lillie, wants a purple wig, like the one she spotted at the festival, when she grows up and my daughter and husband are planning a move to Todmarden, which is on the other side of Yorkshire.  Todmarden citizens are growing their own food in public places, along the canal, outside the police station and even in the graveyard, a good green enterprise.

Fishing

As I was writing about the river Ter yesterday I shall add George Monbiot article in the Guardian about the cleaning up of the River Wandle in London and the return of trout to its waters.  To be honest I think the fish in the Ter are graylings and have been fished out over the years, for I saw none this time.

But it reminded me of childhood, staying on a farm in Wales, at a place called Ffarmers I think and fishing for trout as children.  We even tried 'tickling' trout, and the farmer would come down  and catch a trout for tea, even sometime eel.  This poor eel wriggled around in his bag as we made our way home through the fields and even when chopped up and put in the frying pan, managed some spasmodic moves... The joy of fishing in a beautiful small Welsh river with the farm dogs and the pig for company is not to be missed!

Both Monbiot and Thomas  are bleak writers,  but are obviously able to write in a more happier mode.

 a snippet from - Song for Gwydion: by R.S. Thomas 

“When I was a child and the soft flesh was forming
Quietly as snow on the bare boughs of bone,
My father brought me trout from the green river
From whose chill lips the water song had flown.

Dull grew their eyes, the beautiful, blithe garland
Of stipples faded, as light shocked the brain;
They were the first sweet sacrifice I tasted,
A young god, ignorant of the blood’s stain”

River Ter

Last sunny day yesterday, so we went out to the pub for a ploughman's, it was also a treat for me, knitting and finishing a sweater for my love! This little river always calms my soul, the old giant willows lining its banks and then toppling across as old age finally gets them.  The first thing to strike driving along the lanes is how much water is still coming off the land, there has been no significant rain for about three weeks now.  Many of the fields are still brown soil not sown with seeds, I suppose because of the late cold weather.

What draws me to this insignificant river heaven knows, compared to a Welsh river tumbling over the rocks there is no comparison, I suspect it is the graceful willows and the old oak, still not in leaf, though driving in this limited countryside that beautiful fresh pale green flush can be seen everywhere, spring has truly arrived.

Blackthorn blossom strides through the hedgerows like lace, and in the field we heard our first skylark, rising up to the sky with its beautiful indignant song as we must have disturbed its nesting place in the field, as always, higher and higher till it seems to disappear into the blue.

The garden birds have settled to nesting, our noisy male blackbird sits quietly in the maple now, his mate found and presumably sitting on some eggs, and the collared doves bill quietly there.  Bumblebees have arrived thank goodness, hunting for nesting places in the shed or woodpile, they love mouse holes, that little bit of hay in the mouse's nest seems to make them happy.  Sadly we have no mice, but do have a hedgehog under the shed, who is out and about this last week or so; not seen him/her but  leaves traces behind, this is the one I rescued from the public footpath in Autumn, although there has normally been one living under the shed for years, so it might one and the same, very young though....

The Ter, you can see in the distance flooding of the field

Blackthorn blossom

The view from the Cats pub, across an oil seed rape field

Emerging White deadnettle 

I love white deadnettle, it has a creamy white texture and its hooded flower is loved by bees, so on looking it up in The Englishman's Flora (this by the way is the book I would take to my desert island) I find Grigson whittling away on dead/dumb/deaf nettles, of course we all know why because it doesn't sting like its superior cousin Urtica/nettle - devil's playthings. 

The naming system of such wildflowers devolves often from a religious background, wicked stinging plants are assigned to the devil, useful/pretty plants become 'angelic.

Well in  Grigson's tale of this common wild plant we have it called 'Adam and Eve in the bower'

turn the plant upside down, and beneath the white lip of the corolla, Adam and Eve, the black and gold stamens, lie side by side like two human figures.

Grigson goes on to describe the flower....But the flowers also have a great charm of shape, colour and texture, from the time they lie like soft knobs within the long green teeth of the calyx.  The knob is formed by the upper lip, curled over before its expansion.  When it does expand into the hood. look at it with the bare eye or with a lens, see how it is felted and fringed with soft white hairs, like a moth.

A beautiful botanical description, not quite before the time of television but it does teach us to use our eyes more.

Whilst writing this, a poem came to mind it is by Edward Thomas and called 'Lob' a mythical figure.  The poem is very long and written in 1917 but captures that dusty chalk Wiltshire during WW1 and before, the simplistic naming of the landscape, the old English history that runs like a thread through the landscape and the minds of the country folk, picking up different coloured threads and stitching them into the tapestry of fields and woods.  

Words

Tackling words; An interesting discussion has been going on a board elsewhere, basically it is do with paganism, in the  'new' sense (note I do not use neopagans) to qualify its term as part of a religious belief of today.

Paganism was a term used to describe (latin paganus) a country dweller or rustic, taken from the Romans as they converted to Christianity from their old ways, and was probably used up to 410 AD in its truest form (according to Wikipedia??,)  which if you know your history was the time that the Romans left Britain.  After that of course stamping out paganism in the cause of Christianity made it usage somewhat different, it became a term of abuse and set out a new rule of religious war. 

 Arguments have always revolved round Druids and Pagans, their place in history. Very difficult to define old druidism because they did not believe in writing things down, so the only evidence we have is through Roman writing, who of course following today's trash news paper would take the story and expand in a dramatic way.  So we are left with the visions of blue-painted harridans and men on the Anglesey coastline line baying down the brave Roman centurions whilst behind are the blood soaked groves of the sacrificed, not forgetting the mistletoe and sickles!  Druids do appear in later writings, mostly Irish if I remember correctly, and of course through the writings of the British Celtic Church which came to an untimely death in the 6th century.  So that they existed there is no doubt, but that their belief system has only been partly recorded by the Romans.

The argument I originally referred to came about because of the use of the word 'ritual' in archaeological terms to describe various finds and the ceremonial aspect of many of the megalithic structures.  Well ritual of course covers all aspects of our lives, whether it be tea drinking or going to church and observing the ritual there, but as we know we can draw the line between the practical use and the religious use.  So had archaeologists been taking the easy way out by describing many things in the sacred  whilst ignoring the practicalities?  This fine line can be seen by the different approaches archaeologists take when writing up articles or books, do you appeal to the general public with vivid illustrations from the past or do you take the more scholarly dull road of accurate writing.

So to return to the new Paganism which is part of the new wave of religious belief in this country, small but strong, and with different belief systems for many of the factions, (think of the Christian church with all its factionalism in the 19th century) how should we welcome this new religion.  For me with open arms, celebrating the natural world can only be good, and new thought never does much harm. Allowing their ceremonies, mostly to do with the 'old stones' to go on at least livens the festival season up, take Arthur Pendragon - neo-Druid in his regalia at Stonehenge.

Arthur Pendragon at Stonehenge 2010

Or on Silbury Mound, where I have seen him, calling to his gods, an interesting spectacle, these are his own beliefs, and English Heritage is quite happy to have the Solstices ceremonies at Stonehenge with Arthur sitting at the table in discussions as to how the ceremony will be undertaken, so already legitimised by the bureaucrats. 
So what ever you put on your Xmas cards from the list below, religion or belief systems are best remembered as a personal belief system to be respected.....

1) May your God go with you.
2) May your Deities go with you
3) May your Deities and/or Belief Systems  go with you
4) Yer on yer own, pal 

Beaker Burial

Example;  Funnily enough a piece of news slightly over the top yesterday in The  Independent about a Bronze Age Beaker burial of a woman is retrieved by a more measured assessment from Wessex Archaeology


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nm6wcTQXYeg

note to myself buy Blood and Mistletoe - Ronald Hutton

the argument about Celts

Spring at Hyland House

A flawless blue sky, and Hylands House garden. Noting the insect and plant life in this 500 acres of fields and garden.  The pulmonaria or lungwort bed had bumblebees but none of the pulmonaria bees - Anthophora Plumipes which have appeared in our garden on the lookout  for the flowers of the Bowles Purple flowers.  Pulmonaria belongs to that 'sympathetic' medicine of the middle ages, the spotted leaves look like diseased lungs, not really though, but the  hairy footed, long proboscis little bee just loves lungwort, and each year I always look out for it. Cherry blossom was full of honey bees and the tattered peacock butterfly, I have never seen the brimstone round here, but note the small blue through the garden.

There are some issues between dogs on this 500 acres and people, most dogs run free in the grounds but as we passed an old golden retriever who came over to say hello in that usual friendly way, a small incident occurred.  Two young parents and their toddler told the owner to put it on the lead, which was their right as we were in the garden but then the father as he passed us was phoning up and reporting the owner, which made me cross and I remonstrated with him, gently of course and we parted on good terms but such small minded pettyness is very cross making!

For the story of the marsh marigold or kingcups see this blog.

Cherry blossom and peacock, plus plenty of honey bees

Exceptionally neat bedding of crocuses and primroses

Canadian geese

Ducks galore and marsh marigolds

Happy Moon Bear

They say she is smiling in this photo

Falling in love with Moon Bears....

This is Buddha, 10 years caged for bile production, she is taking her first steps out from her new 'den' into the enclosures at Animals Asia sanctuary, which I think is in China. Encouraging news is that there is a Chinese animal welfare organisation also highlighting this terrible cruelty.  The person who founded this charity 20 years ago Jill Robinson won an award last night the first 'Animal Honours' in this country for services rendered. Buddha is very timorous in taking those first steps, you can almost feel the bewilderment and joy perhaps to find another world.

Buddha

Sichuan Earthquake animals

16th April 2013

I shall never be as good a photographer as Em (Dartmoor Ramblings) but capturing an instant in a garden can be caught by any camera.  Yesterday snapped up the only lemon balm at the nursery, along with other herbs.

lemon balm, love the crumpled appearance of the leaf .

Pretty pansy faces, ride through winter and still produce their flowers

Gold laced polyanthus, flowered throughout the snow

Buddha smiles down on primroses, he has become out of focus , a photographic term is 'bokeh'  (the aesthetic blur) something new learnt every day!

Violets (must check other violet places) notice how the wind shakes them

Among the grasses,
An unknown flower
Blooming white.
―Zen Haiku

Tea

Watching Victoria Woods two fascinating programmes about tea, unfolded for me a whole spectrum of memories.  We drink tea every day, it is a ritual in the truest form, it is the companionable drink we offer when someone comes to call, it heals for a moment those times when we are shocked by some unexpected news, that first morning cup of tea shakes our system awake. During the day I drink 'Yorkshire' tea, not because it comes from Yorkshire but because it is a strong brew and the thought of tea being grown in  the cold North makes me laugh, but my morning cuppa is now Twinings's Breakfast Tea for its gentler awakening.

Why Chinese mountains at the top, well tea (green) originally came from China, those tall straight sided mountains have always fascinated me since childhood and that is where the tea plants were grown on the shallower slopes  and came from. Like fairytale strongholds these mountains with waterfalls and trees clinging to their sides,  unreal and exotic.  Growing older I became fascinated by Tibet, those high uplands with Buddhist temples seemed again somehow unreal, here of course they drank butter tea specially made in butter churns. Their tsampa, an essential part of Tibetan diet, a dough like food was mixed with the tea and eaten with your fingers

Butter churns from Sera Monastery, Tibet.

Herbal teas are of course fashionable now, the 'tisanes' of the continent, Poirot is always to be found drinking one, a great selection will greet you on the shelf at the supermarket, some are too bitter for my liking, and if you try the herbs from the garden they can also 'bite' the tongue.  Raspberry leaves for women before birth is said to help, whilst mint is a good digestive tea, and pleasant to take. Apparently blackcurrant leaves are used in teas, probably only a few as the strong cats pee taste is slightly unpleasant, but it is full of vitamin C and good for you. Catnip tea, again  I remember it as strong tasting, though you can mix it with some lemon balm leaves, is good for migraines, as is feverfew, though I must admit it never cured me. Camomile tea to relax of course and to smell, always fancied a camomile lawn but they are not very practical.

For these leaves from the garden you need a little metal tea holder, like a ball it unclasps in the middle and you put the leaves inside, not always easy to find, but a good deal cheaper than buying herbal teabags.

The' Wild Horses' of Newbury

The maze carved into Solsbury Hill to remember the widening of the A46 Batheaston road.

There has been so much news about the death of Maggie Thatcher, that perhaps I should not write about it, and I will not, but there is a political aspect of her tenure that I got involved with 20 odd years ago as a member of the Green Party.  It brings to the fore in my mind the legacy of what she has left behind. Bath the town in which I lived, is, always was, a liberal place, we had Chris Patten (conservative) for our member of parliament, he lived outside Bath in a glorious rural village  called I think Conkwell, it overlooked the beautiful valley of the Avon.

He was brought down as many would remember by the infamous Poll Tax. Belonging to the Green party at the time I was roped in to hold our banner beneath him as he made his speech on the steps of the Guildhall in Bath to the many hundreds of protesters that stood in the dark.  We had made sure that there were wardens to hold back the crowds and deal with the more violent protesters coming from Bristol, so an orderly group.  The day before I had been in the Guildhall Market and noted well dressed security men inspecting every inch of the place, seemed so strange for this peaceful tourist city that it sent a cold shiver down my spine. Next day driving past to the speech at night, passed Victoria Park; parked were two large coaches full of helmeted policeman who were lit up by the lights in the coaches, it was surreal!

There was not much trouble, the protest went off and the consequences were to be felt and we ended up with no Poll Tax.

I liked Chris Patten, but he was voted out in the next election and Bath ended up with Don Foster the Liberal candidate still in the seat today.  One of the things that also happened around this time was the Solsbury Hill campaign against the widening of the Batheaston A46 and which I wrote about here, in fact this road widening scheme was to go across the river and through the Avon valley, this plan has never gone through though and the destruction has never been implemented, and I expect Patten would have been happy as well.  The heavy handed security that had been seen at the Newbury Pass scheme, and note the behaviour of the two'wild' horses in the video below, was also to be found at this widening scheme and can be found in the many photographs taken at the time.  It halted road building for a while and changed the government thinking on transport.

And so to the video of the Wild Horses of Newbury, amateurish, hand held, with a naive voiceover, and all those 'terrible' protestors that receive so much harrassment in the likes of the Daily Mail, etc, the young fought the cause and lost, the horses are but a romantic image in their efforts to stop the felling of the two giant oaks, but look at those yellow coated men, this was Thatcher's England at the time!  The Wild Horses of Newbury  

Birds and gardens

Taken from the Icknield Way by Edward Thomas, in unreconstructed mode.
The book is online at Google, thanks to BB can now read it..

Today is a true spring April day, sun and gentle showers.  Spied a blackcap in the trees, the starlings are busy collecting nesting material and even the dove is making efforts.  Yes she/he wanders round with large non-nestable twigs in its beak, so I do as I did last year, break up the fronds of the bamboo dead shoots into more manageable lengths to build the nest.  Skinny cat has just finished his/her biscuits, under marching orders if the cat pounces on one of the birds.  Did some gardening along the long front border under the laurel hedge yesterday, it has somehow filled itself this two foot of earth with, red valerian, wallflowers, interspersed with lavender, which has all been cut back due to old age. Rue which also has been disposed of due to its cruel habit of causing rashes, then a variety of other stuff that has lingered on from the past.  Yesterday clearing what looks like grass, but isn't, think it is that little purple-blue flower (can't think of the name) that appears this time of the year.  The soil has never been dug, you can only go down about 4 inches, and of course the hedge stops the rain from getting to and absorbs all nutrients.  I do not like laurels, once planted one and from a baby grew into a 20 foot monster in no time, like Leylandi conifers do not plant unless you want to keep trimming them back forever.... So corn poppies and nasturiums seeds have gone in, I hope to encourage hollyhocks as well, one plant has been put in to seed.

Waylands Smithy long barrow, of which I have written so much about, nags at the back of my mind, the long walk along the dry chalky Ridgeway path is probably evoking memories of hot summer suns and dryness but here are a couple of photos taken in autumn.  It has such class this 'restored' long barrow, the photos were taken in autumn, another time I went was for the scattering of ash of a 'megalithic person', i.e. those that love the prehistoric stones. I remember taking a handful of lavender from the garden and we all sat under the trees because of the rain, it was a strange but happy day, I took my son to let him see a 'natural' funeral.

Another April shower darkens the room as I write, I sowed the seeds of cut and come lettuces as well in two big plant pots this morning, so late for starting seeds this year, wonder where this climate change will take us?