The Weirdness of Cornwall

Today, Sunday I am up early, had porridge for breakfast have kneaded the dough for bread and now sit in front of my photos of Cornwall.  You may have gathered along the way, that though I am interested in churches, megalithic stones also grab my interest.  Whether they be endless stone circles or long or round barrows, they still sit in our landscape ready for any mythology that falls out of the sky..

Our friend in Cornwall probably emails every day with his exploration of the stone circles on Bodmin moor, and I remember the week we spent there, in a rather horrible cottage, the owners lived next door and allowed their three little dogs to s--- on the driveway.  But the moor was on our doorstep, and the Hurler stone circles but a five minute walk.  Lots of ponies wild living with their foals, many a case of cruelty as they were not fed over the winter months and starved.

Our first arrival, after the long drive in pouring rain was the car park to the Hurlers, and I leapt out in the rain to try and view the circles through  mist and rain, I remember so well this little pony and foal walking across the road looking bedraggled.

We could walk to this museum, an old mining building

The three stone circles are laid gently on the flat ground quite a way from Stowe's Pound and the Tor, this was the altar on which the old priests must have focussed. today, the tor has been quarried away but you can still see the remains of the old settlement places on Stowe's Pound, large stones gently bending down into the deep hole of the quarry.  It was here that 18th century Daniel Gumb mentioned earlier lived in his stone cave with his family, was he hiding from the tax man I wonder?

Prehistoric stones trying not to fall into the quarry

What happens to these young ponies I wonder?

One of the circles with the tor in the distance

A very watery landscape, the bumps and hollows of old mines creating a strange landscape

These are the Piper stones

All the things you could see in the Parish we stayed in.

Rillaton Bronze Age Barrow, home to the famous Rillaton gold cup, which now resides in the British Museum.  In the dark cavity luminous lichen, a strange sight.

Sue's hens sitting comfortably on the bench, this was the place we fell in love with and almost moved to Cornwall!

There is a break in contemplation, Lucy is bored she knocks over my spinning spools and brings me a ball of wool to break the concentration, the chickens need letting out she says and I need a pee...  as light appears it is wet and very gray, there is an ominous sandy look to the sky, but too early for the morning cuppa.

What I remember about Cornwall, the weather was pretty bleak, the landscape felt strange to a person who has lived amongst the lush meadows and hills of Somerset.  One of the reasons we did not buy a house there though, was as Daphne Du Maurier said the 'bungaloid' nature of the houses for sale.  Yes I know when you get old bungalows are best, but aesthetically they get beaten hands down by lovely old cottages - which always sell for a fortune by the way!