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We spent the morning working, until it was time for the hospital. I left minus bandages and armed with a full complement of skin again, albeit not particularly pretty skin for now. The healing of the burns is going well and I am finally allowed full scale, unimpeded ablutions. Which, in this heat, is wonderful.
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Then we headed off into an ancient and sacred landscape, littered with barrows and earthworks, pale stone and mellow brick in search of a pub for lunch. In this area they are not hard to find and we settled for a little place with a petunia filled terrace, ablaze with colour. We talked, ate, laughed and made notes before finding a temporary sanctuary from the heat in ancient stone.
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It was a lovely afternoon’s adventuring but thirsty work, so it seemed almost inevitable that the early evening found us on the terrace of the Black Boy, watching the rabbits on the hillside and .. well, me at least… drawing pictures in the condensation that enveloped the cold glass.
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As the sun, softly golden and hazy, stooped down to kiss the horizon, I fell in love all over again. Not that my love affair with this land has ever abated or diminished. But sometimes it comes up with a rush from the innermost depths to flood your senses, emotions and being.
Tonight was such a night.
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There had been a day chasing landscapes, both those of the green earth and those of myth, magic and legend. There had been the landscape of faith painted in the shape of a shadow on a church wall, the glory of jewel coloured glass and the frozen lace of carved stone. There had been the landscape of history, ancient graffiti, crude sundials and lost names. And the landscape of the soul that wound and entwined its way through all else, as intimately as any lover.
But the stage against which all this was set was England on a summer’s day, and it was beautiful.
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HEART OF ALBION
Stuart France & Sue Vincent
Unwittingly drawn into the mysterious and magical landscape of The Initiate, Don and Wen pondered the visual language of symbols, stumbling across revelations and realisations that would alter their perception of the age-old stories they thought they knew… tales that entwine across the tapestry of time.
A hilltop steeped in tragedy, a child whose eyes see too much… a Word-Weaver’s birth into darkness… strange forms shimmering on the edge of vision. They learned to walk the Living Land, listening to the whispers of Earth memory and the ghosts of the most ancient past. And from those tales, another line of communication opens as they explore the folklore, legends and traditional tales handed down, from heart to heart, over the millennia.
As the two friends travel between the sacred sites of Albion, they discover stories that tell how the leys were made, the true origins of the hill-forts and the reason why Father Fish had breakfast in Slug Town.
Striding across this landscape of myth are the giants. From Cerne Abbas to the top of the Beanstalk, from Camelot to the Castle of Maidens, how and why is their presence stamped on the Living Lore of the land by their seven-league boots?
Join Don and Wen as the adventure continues, un-ravelling its mysteries and the magical relationship between Albion and its people.
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Beautiful.
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Thank you Paulette 🙂
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I always think of coming to your blog as my daily vacation. I love looking at the world through your eyes. Thank you for sharing with all of us.
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That’s a wonderful comment to wake up to, Ionia! Thank you.
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Such a calming read just before bedtime. So glad you’re enjoying the week.
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Ah, how could I not? 🙂
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The photo inside the sanctuary is interesting. The lilies offer almost surreal contrast against the somber background. Very nice.
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It is a beautiful place, Joel… a tiny country church that goes back to the Normans.
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So lovely!
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xxx
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Thank you for these wonderful descriptions. You make me long for that landscape. I also found the photo with the lilies against “the sombre background” so touching. Always enjoy reading your posts.
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Thank you Don. 🙂
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Glad you are on the mend, lovely pictures!
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Thank you.. healing very well 🙂
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I always miss England when looking at your photos. I remember first seeing an English village and wanting to retire there immediately. I was 30.
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After wandering through the southern counties the past two days i can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else 🙂
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Hmmm. Definitely a pattern emerging… haven’t quite figured it our yet… but definitely a pattern in there somewhere… 😉
Enjoying following you around immensely… now, time for a… *aha!* :p
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Ha! Wait and see, Big Bear 🙂
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What a lovely day )
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Oh yes 🙂
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Your countryside is indeed gorgeous. Sue, I’m so happy to hear that you’re doing much better and on the road to recovery. Cheers!
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Very much better, Judy.. I even managed to swim in the sea, which I had despaired of doing for a while.
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