Category Archives: Art

Dear Wen: Erratics…

Dear Wen… Yes, an eminently enjoyable weekend, it was good to rediscover an old friend. The sleepy energy of Beeley Warren Circle is a balm to the soul as the numerous Bees we encountered should attest. The silly thing is … Continue reading

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…and Red-Fox. ~ Stuart France

* …In another part of the meadow Red-Fox was hunting mice for breakfast. He saw one and jumped on him with with all four feet but the little fellow got away. In his disappointment Red-Fox heard a distant call, “Bring … Continue reading

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Dear Don: Erratics…

Dear Don, The weekend was excellent… the meeting went very well, we got a lot of good work done (for which I shall have to type up our notes at some point) and we found the stone circle! Which bodes … Continue reading

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…Buffalo… Stuart France

* …Buffalo trampled the grass and tore up the earth with his front hoofs but when he looked for Field-Mouse he was nowhere to be found. ‘That’s put an end to him,’ thought Buffalo. Just then he felt a scratching … Continue reading

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Dear Wen: Canopic Jars…

Dear Wen… Yes, that is odd, and a complete reversal of what one would expect… Anthropomorphism is supposed to follow zoomorphism not the other way around… So…lungs…east…liver…south… stomach…west… intestines…north… Heart …the all encompassing central and peripheral…quintessence. The brain as a … Continue reading

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Field-Mouse… Stuart France

* Field-Mouse was out gathering wild-beans for winter when Buffalo came down to the meadow to graze. ‘He will mow down the long-grass with his prickly tongue and there will be no where left to hide,’ thought Field-Mouse, ‘I will … Continue reading

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Dear Don: Canopic Jars…

Dear Don, The canopic jars are odd, you know. The early ones had human heads, then they began to be representations of Anubis, and eventually became the better known sons of Horus… all four jars always protected by the goddess. … Continue reading

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Another flying visit…

The door was actually open as we passed, so it would have been rude not to stop. “It could be a long morning…”said my son, settling back with amused resignation as I grabbed the camera and hopped out of the … Continue reading

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The House that Fish Built: Fat-Head…

* “Indeed there is,” shouted Fat-Head, the son of Short-Neck, and he sprang into the middle of the mead house, “bend down you grizzly gawp, that I might cut off your head tonight and you to cut off mine tomorrow.” … Continue reading

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The House that Fish Built: Carle…

* …Twice the height of any of the men of Albion was the horrible mantle about him and his hair was like a great spreading bush the size of a winter shed, under which thirty bullocks could easily find shelter. … Continue reading

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