The sound of my companion’s unholy glee drew a smouldering glance as I lay supine in the mud on the sodden bank. Liquefied earth had now joined the water in my boots… and under my painted fingernails, in my hair, and had seeped (as I was acutely and uncomfortably aware) right through the layers of clothing to the scraps of lace that serve as undergarments. Had the soggy boot been on the other foot, so to speak, I would have taken a picture, but the camera too was lens deep in the gloop, so I can be thankful for small mercies. Dignity was at least photographically preserved… but it was the only shred of it I had left as I lay there laughing in the mud as we descended from the hillside.
So much for a leisurely wander on the way across England… we were going to have to dive back to Sheffield for me to shower, change and buy emergency replacement footwear. Did I care? Not a bit. What we had been gifted was worth it.
I had been up at half past one on Friday morning ready for the drive north… the nice thing, of course, is that by setting off so early, you get the dawn. The downside, if such it can be counted with so many beautiful places to explore, is that most folk don’t want their guests on the doorstep at silly hours of the morning and you have to find something else to do until respectable o’clock. Not so with my fellow night-owl Stuart… he’d been up and writing since the wee small hours too and there was coffee.
We had planned to meet at an equally silly time halfway across the country in Chester where we have some research to do for our books. It had seemed an excellent idea as we would have to be in Stockport that evening anyway for a Silent Eye meeting. Given the fact that it is January and the Chester visit was also going to have to involve some very cold water and hills to climb… hills that would, no doubt, be merely liquid mud after the recent deluge… we decided to postpone and, for once, be sensible. So I and a brace of almond croissants arrived early in Yorkshire instead.
As usual, we sat and talked for several hours, discussing everything under the sun and a few things beyond it, he perched in his accustomed position with the chair on two legs… me in my habitual and liminal place on the step, a flame haired guardian imp of the threshold. We were finalising Stuart’s new book, Crucible of the Sun, which will be out in a few days… we are hoping to get the book finalised today for his birthday.
Eventually we walked up the hill to a local church to look at the stained glass and for me to make the acquaintance of a beautiful old yew tree. We spent some time with the trees, feeling their age and beauty… which may have had a bearing on what was to come, though I didn’t consider that until this morning, looking through the photographs of the day.
Some time later it was mooted that we could drop into Chatsworth for an hour or two on the way to Stockport… after calling at a pub in Baslow for a snack. The School meetings don’t allow time for eating until late in the evening when we share a buffet meal. Sounded good to me.
I have never been to Chatsworth properly. Once I almost managed it, but the place was simply heaving with cars and people… and that is not how I wish to visit anywhere. The car had been turned around and pointed firmly towards a quieter, more intimate day. Not, you will understand, that we were planning on visiting what is possibly the most beautiful stately home in England on Friday. No. There was something of far more interest to us… a standing stone, hidden somewhere in the grounds.
Squelch, schloop, schlock…. Our boots were mud to the ankles within seconds, sinking and sticking in the sodden ground, releasing on each step with a reluctant pop. Not, I hasten to add, walking boots… of course not. His polished leather, mine soft black suede…. We were dressed for the meeting after all. Had we not sensibly abandoned Chester because of liquid mud on the hills? Yet, here we were traipsing across saturated earth in search of a single elusive stone… and all we could do was laugh. Higher ground would, perhaps, be drier, we thought as we climbed. It certainly couldn’t be any worse…
It was perhaps a decade since Stuart had seen the standing stone, and he had come upon it as he descended from the moor… we were climbing the other way with only the vaguest idea of where we were going. We headed across the mire towards a huge boulder visible in the distance, paddling through the impromptu stream that was the hillside. By this time my boots had small puddles in them and water was swishing about between my toes… Not that I cared, not really… being on the greenest earth, climbing towards the top of the hill on what had suddenly become a glorious afternoon. A little mud was a small price to pay.
The huge, crouching form of the boulder was the first pause. We have found that from one markstone you can usually sight the next and we spent a moment following the lines across the landscape to the features we could see. We continued the climb and met a beautiful tree, gnarled and curving into the wind. From here we noticed some unusual ground and a small wood… it was a natural progression to head on over and investigate. Fangorn! We both thought it… anyone who has ever read Tolkien would have done so… or perhaps a Narnian glade.
The place was alive with dancing trees… the graceful female forms of dryads, hoary, bearded faces… roots that swallowed rocks… Every tree was vital, sculpted into fantastic shapes. I thought of a passage from Prince Caspian where Lucy tries to wake the trees… here it seemed that they were awake… already aware and sharing our sense of wonder in this moment where the veils of reality seemed to have parted and worlds met. Vivid emerald moss clothe lichen encrusted boulders, copper leaves and bracken blanket the earth as sunlight streams through rain blackened branches… flocks of birds and families of squirrels…utterly magical! It was a gift.
In moments like this the inner life of the world rises to greet you. The sacredness of the earth, its life and laughter take you by the hand and lead you into strange and numinous places where nature dances with you, and your soul sings with sheer joy.
We found one standing stone, throne-like and gazing out across the valley, but not the one we were looking for. It really didn’t matter. We could have been disappointed… we hadn’t found what we had come for. We are used to that, however, on our adventures. We have long since learned that sometimes the goal you think you are seeking is only the carrot that gets you moving… the true object of the quest remains hidden until it is given, an unexpected gift of the moment. On Friday we were given the gift of dancing trees.
Ah, the magic of a standing stone.
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There are so many beautiful sites in that area too… we have barely scratched the surface yet 🙂
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It takes a long time to know a ‘patch’. OS maps can be great, but I’ve also found old local history books enlightening too.
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Books we have no shortage of… and the internet offers some wonderful resources these days for the less well known and more remote sites. Though I have a fondness for maps too 🙂
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spectacular – makes me feel like I’m in the “shire” – well worth a swim in the mud, I’d say
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My thoughts exactly, Paul 🙂
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Fantastic shapes Sue!
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There are so many, Robert! Impossible to put them all on here… and some will be going in Stu’s books too 🙂
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Reblogged this on The Jackson Diner.
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The moss makes everything look so divinely ancient.
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It is… a very old landscape indeed. These hills are not young, but old and worn… and very beautiful.
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Wow, those trees, Sue. They’ve stirred up some deep emotions in me. Magic. Will you take me there someday? xo, Alethea
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With the greatest of pleasure, Alethea!
There are so many more photographs… faces and forms… it is a truly magical place xx
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I could feel it!
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We were just smiling, ear to ear… impossible not to! This is very close to the place we hold our annual workshops in Derbyshire.. One of these days, I hope 🙂
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I’m working on manifesting this. It will happen! I will make it out there!
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And then I can show you round 🙂
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Absolutely!
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🙂
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Absolutely beautiful post Sue. I love the photos.
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Thank you, Alesia… it was just beautiful there 🙂
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More than beautiful! Breathtaking!!!!
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Pretty much 🙂 x
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i love these photos and especially the dancing trees!
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They are something special Beth… a wonderful place 🙂
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Wonderful countryside, magic caught in the act! And a wee bit of envy, it looks as though spring will pop through any moment, while we here in Central Ontario woke this morning to 4 + feet of snow and –28 d.c.
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We probably still have winter to come… though there are still roses blooming in the garden and now catkins on the trees… very wet and lots of frost. And of course, we are complaining about the weather anyway… we always do! x
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What an absolutely wild place, where Earth and tree still have the upper hand. A fitting home for Ents, and playground for hobbits. Love the third photo especially with the reflections in water and the moss. Such interesting faces in the trees. Is there such a rite as baptism in mud? Hugs, WG
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It is very beautiful… and yes, we felt the mud was a appropriate, if inadvertent sacrifice to earth x
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Depends on how you look at it- perhaps Earth was offering a sacrifice/gift to you. You were imprinted with the energy of the place through the “mud bath.” Quantum entanglement and all… See, I had to have a chunk of time to enjoy and absorb this series of posts. Today I was the one up before dawn, with a cat, not a dog, trying to draw me from the computer and towards the food bowl. He has not yet been successful… Love and light, WG
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Oh we were up at even sillier hours today… but I like that idea. Certainly it felt like an exchange between the earth and me… with the blessing of laughter over all x
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I prefer the hours when no one else is up. My husband doesn’t share that opinion, so I usually shave only tiny slices off of the night on one end or the other. No silly hours- so long as one catches a bit of sleep here and there. Yes, the blessings of the Earth over all 😉
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I don’t seem to get a lot of choice.. I wake up wide awake and can’t sleep till I’ve done what I am being dragged awake to do… and by then it is too late to go back to bed x
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😉 Yes, they are insistent, aren’t they? You most likely are doing their bidding while you think you are asleep, as well. Much to do in the service of light, my friend. Bless you, and may you find the rest and sustenance you need. *
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Rabindranath Tagore
“I slept and dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service. I acted and behold, service was joy.” 🙂
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😉 yes- Coming this time was a sacrifice we freely chose to make, to do those things only we can do. And completing the tasks we came for is our joy. We are always so fortunate to also find companions (and long loved ones) along the way… XX
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Those whose paths meet touch a rare joy. x
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😉 and sometimes a helpful guide and companion. I spent the first 40+ years of my life in search of my partner, and finally found him when hope was almost lost. We have been searching for one another our entire lives, taking birth on opposite coasts of North America. 😉
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Always and only when the time is right 🙂 x
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Yes. Not always easy getting to the right time, however 😉 XX
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No… but if it was, we wouldn’t learn so much on the way 🙂
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😉 or have the opportunity to repay and balance so much karma. Every turn in the path serves to lead us farther along the way.
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opportunity with every step.
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😉 More so when we are open to it, and surrender to it perhaps. Although sometimes it just happens when we are caught up in the moment in the circumstance.
What a charge you must have picked up from spending time around the standing stones in the North. So beautifully charged with Earth’s power up there- shows in the photos.
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It doesn’t need the stones, the earth itself is just alive, and all it takes is to let yourself feel it and feel of it.
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Yes. Everything there looks particularly vibrant, and ancient. I love the deep moss, and ancient trees.
I just hit publish if you’d like to see what I’ve been working on on FG.
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Love this post as a passionate tree lover, especially of bare branches against sky and fellow admirer of the ENTs in Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings.” Great photos! x ellen
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Fangorn was our first thought when we saw the place, Ellen… and the sinuous forms made us wonder f we had found the entwives at last… 🙂
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Pingback: Weird weekend – the lost stone | Daily Echo
Oh may goodness, this is such a magic place. A place full of magic 🙂
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It really is, Sarah… and very beautiful 🙂
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A great post, Sue. You may not have found the standing stone, but those trees are a treasure in themselves.
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That glade of trees is rather special… hard to put your finger on what makes it so alive, but it has a very different ‘feel’ from anywhere else.
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