The path to Wayland Smith long barrow
Listen to this poem by Jeremy Hooker - Landscape of the Daylight Moon.
The other day I collected what I had written around the Christmas holidays from the start of this blog, so this poem comes from 2007 and was mentioned in this blog - Christmas Reading.
As I listened to the poet reading the poem, I also remembered the chalk downs of Wiltshire, somewhere in this blog I had captured the chalk objects from Windmill Hill, here it is, fertility or what? A record carved in chalk of what mattered years ago. Read Aubrey Burl on the subject and he will tell you that the people who carved such things were soon dead by 25 years old, the women often with their unborn baby still in situ. Sex in the City still had to be written, sorry I always see the weird side of life. The truth is always slightly tacky.
But Jeremy Hooker wrote of the chalk lands, of the Uffington White horse, gleaming on his hillside also of course is the Wilmington Man, and the Cerne Abbas giant, with his balls and erection. The arguments fall round these two giant chalk representations as to dating. Could they have come from earlier times, Saxon for instance or were they crafted in the 17th or 18th centuries caricatures of political nonentities.
A journey through art, poetry and archaeology, Paul Nash with his moons, Hooker with his poetry and that wonderful feeling of excitement for me as the landscape revealed its secrets as I walked upon it.
And then there is this Meditation on chalk.....
North Stoke: Chalk; A poem by Jeremy Hooker
A moment of reflection as I look out of the rain-spattered window towards the South Downs which enfold me in a curve from south to west. One October half term we stayed in a tiny cottage in Farringdon at the foot of Uffington White Horse. We had had a puncture on the M4 (a dark rainy Friday evening after school and work) and had to empty the car of contents and passengers to fit the replacement wheel before limping onto our destination. A storm raged that night and when we awoke we were trapped by fallen trees all around. A gift to a busy family. We climbed the hill and flew a kite and danced in the wind and played golf with sticks and stones and rabbit holes. The following day the trees had magically disappeared and we were able to go in search of the source of the Thames. The rain is coming down in stair rods now and the chalk paths of the Downs will be emulsified and slippery. Thank goodness for the sandy heathland above the river valley where I now live and where I am growing a natural perennial wildflower meadow on the impoverished free-draining greensand. The meadow is resilient to wind, drought, torrential rain and makes me happy. Even today I could walk the meadow and see daisies and dandelions and white yarrow in flower. I have a number of wooden wine boxes with sliding lids in which I keep treasure. One contains chalk sea creature fossils we collected from the roots of storm-tossed trees on the North Downs during the 26 years we lived in a village on the spring line of the North Downs. Another has a collection of ammonites collected from beneath Golden Cap, another wild and windy October half term destination. There is a box with Roman finds (so many boot nails) from around here and lastly a box with mostly blue and white shards of pottery collected from gardens and allotment since I was a two-year-old helping in the garden. I used to call them fairy plates and would lay a tea party where my cat Mabel (a farm kitten brought home from holiday in a grocery box) adorned with a daisy crown would be guest of honour. Seem to have diverged from the chalk Thelma - sorry! Have you read anything by Horatio Clare? He lives in Hebden Bridge so not too far from you. I think you may like his writing and he was on Radio 3 the other day walking to Greenland. Sarah in Sussex
ReplyDeleteI am glad you went on your dance of memories from the past Sarah, it was a lovely read. Yes, I looked Horatio Clare up and have ordered two of his books. One is about his childhood 'Running to the Hills' in the Black Mountains which I am sure Jennie would like, the other 'Heavy Light'. He sounds a bit like Macfarlane, with his nature writing and I have never come across him before.
DeleteThank you for that Thelma - I have watched and listened to it and it has left me with a feeling of deep peace. Just what I needed this morning. So very calming, so very beautiful. x
ReplyDeleteYes Pat, a very reflective poetic film, it reminded me of Derek Jarman some how. Glad you enjoyed it.
DeleteI used to love visiting the chalk streams of Hampshire, watching trout swimming under the main road at Stockbridge. I had a friend who used to poach there, snatching them straight out of the water with the traffic going past.
ReplyDeleteBy the time I got to Wiltshire Tom, there were no more trout in the streams, but the chalk streams are very clear when unpolluted, a rare and beautiful resource. There used to be a trout farm up at Farleigh Hungerford Castle, I suppose it is gone now.
ReplyDeleteThere is still fly-fishing there.
DeleteThe only chalk I have ever known are the sticks of chalk in a classroom to be used on the blackboard. Now the dry erase boards have replaced most of those. Did those sticks of chalk come from the chalk you have mentioned here? I know nothing about it!
ReplyDeleteLovely film, thank you.
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoyed it. It is starting to fade at the edges though.
DeleteEllen I know nothing about how to make blackboard chalk, but the chalks that lie underground are from the bodies of billions of marine creatures that swam in the sea before land and before we had even climbed out of the sea...
ReplyDelete