Samildanach…

ilkwknd-109*

…The torchbearers hurriedly re-lit the torches of Dun Culhwch.

“Why, a veritable master of all the crafts we have here, it would seem,” said Big Chief Hawthorn, “but let a seat be brought for this man who has asked for my daughter’s hand that I might consider him the more keenly.”

So a seat was brought and Big Chief Hawthorn and Gwythyr, son of Greidyawl, sat face to face.

“A question, O Yoke-of-all-Craft, from where do you hail?” asked Big Chief Hawthorn.

Answered Gwythyr, “From a wise man’s heel, and you, O Big Chief Hawthorn?” he asked.

Answered Big Chief Hawthorn “From a confluence of wisdoms, and you, O Yoke-of-all-Craft?” he asked.

Continue reading at France and Vincent

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All Fingers And No Thumbs ~ Geoff Le Pard #writephoto

If Felix ‘Forefinger’ O’Pretty was being honest with himself, protective custody hadn’t been the calming sinecure he’d been led to believe. He accepted that, set against some of the gnarled veterans of the criminal fraternity, he wasn’t the smoothest lockpick in the set and his tendency to drink and then talk too much had led to him using up two of the promised three new personalities the Met Police had offered him when he turned Queen’s Evidence against Harold ‘Firstfinger’ Nightpoultice. That followed the failure of the South Barchester Mega RamRaid which led to all twenty four tractor drivers being arrested while carrying ATMs in their scoops, the failure being his responsibility having sourced adulterated red diesel on the cheap. Several fingers had pointed at Forefinger and he’d become a marked man, even before he was given the possibility of a nark’s redemption.

Continue reading at TanGental

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Benison

If
I wake
Tomorrow
To a new dawn
Just another day
Trudging ever onward
Another mindless journey
Will the clock count each passing hour
Marking time for mediocrity
Or count each second a new adventure?
Will my eyes open on a brave new world
Filled with boundless possibilities
A world washed clean by yesterday
When a grey sky wept for us
Nature’s absolution
Annealing sorrow
The day after
Healing
Rain

Double etheree for Colleen’s poetry challenge

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Fire Festival – Up Helly Aa ~ Christine Bolton #writephoto

Once more
the night of fire
returns
Transforming
personalities
Exploring
Experimenting
with hidden desires

Continue reading at Poetry for Healing

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Flight #midnighthaiku

A flight of fancy

Spring gathers her growing flock

Like birds on a wire

*

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Ember Days and Genteel Ways: Dinner at the Castle ~ Alli Templeton

Reblogged from Medieval Wanderings:

I’ve been doing a lot of cooking recently, and looking back at my past medieval adventures has got me thinking about medieval food and castle mealtimes. So by way of connecting with my beloved Middle Ages at a time when I can’t get to a castle, I’ve started having a go at making some medieval dishes. I’d love to escape 2020 and go back the glory days of castles to see how it was really done. Then I could even enjoy a real medieval feast, as dining in a castle was a colourful, time-consuming and multi-sensory experience, and it was about far more than mere sustenance. Unlike the common conception of a load of drunken, rowdy oafs gorging on great plates of food and randomly hurling chicken legs over their shoulders, it was in fact, a much more civilised and congenial occasion.

Banquet in full flow

Servants bringing in the food as the meal gets underway

Continue reading at Medieval Wanderings

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Messages ~ Kerfe Roig #writephoto

messages s

messages magnetic

Continue reading at K- Lines that Aim to Be

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All in the details – A visit to Haddon Hall II

It was the morning after the Riddles of the Night* workshop that I have shared again recently. We wandered out into the landscape. Although the workshop was over, apparently, the work begun on the weekend was only just beginning…  Parts One and Two of the day’s adventures can be found by clicking the highlighted link.

Other than the Elizabethan connection, we really had, at that point, no idea why we had felt the need to visit Haddon Hall. We knew little about the place, apart from the legend of the romantic elopement of Dorothy Vernon and the fact that ‘ye harmytt’ of Cratcliffe Crags had supplemented his hermit’s income by supplying rabbits to the Hall for the pot.

We knew, though it had somehow failed to register, that the ‘Newark’… the chapel built at Bakewell church where Sir Godfrey Foljambe and the Knights of the Shrine had met, and which was proving such a fascinating ground for speculation… was also the chapel in which many of the Manners and Vernon family were buried. The very same families responsible for the building of Haddon Hall.

Coincidentally, Henry Foljambe had married Benedicta Vernon, linking their families too. And both the Foljambes and the Manners families had links by marriage with the Cavendish family who own nearby Chatsworth, arguably the greatest of the Great Houses… and whose emblem just happens to be a serpent nowed, knotted in a figure of eight, like the infinity symbol… which we had used as part of our first riddle, a couple of days before.

We had also learned that the Hall was thought to be on a ley… a dragon line… and a little knowledge of the land hereabouts would place Haddon Hall on a line midway between Hob Hurst’s House, an unusual, rectangular burial mound on the moors above Beeley, and the great stone circle of Arbor Low. The chances are that this alignment would correspond to one of the eight ‘spokes’ of the leys that radiate from the circle.

Would there be any clues scattered about the building? Any eight-pointed stars,  geometries, or any dragons, for instance? Maybe the chapel would hold a clue or two… It would probably be, we thought, too much to ask. Until the stars came out, carved into the stonework. And the geometries in the lead piping. And the odd dragon or two…

And that was before we’d even left the courtyard! The Hall would repay a bit of careful attention… and probably a fair amount of research at a later date. Trying to note or photograph as much detail as we could, we set off to explore, grateful that visitors are allowed to be ‘free range’ and not herded through the rooms.

For there is much to see. It is a beautiful old house, with character and history on every wall and in every room. In places, you can see the evolution of the earlier building. In one corner of the courtyard, the base of the slender Eagle Tower is part of the original Norman construction. Permission to build the wall and tower had to be obtained from John of Mortain. It was granted on condition that it was tall enough to be defensive. John was also known as Lackland; he became King of England in 1177 and his reign ended in the signing of the Magna Carta, the beginnings of the constitution and often called the earliest document to set forth human rights.

At the opposite corner of the courtyard, odd masonry, adorned with eight-pointed stars,  shows how the building was altered in the medieval period. Ancient wood, silvered with age, still frames the walls and keeps the winter wind from the halls and chambers. The Hall may have a history running back nearly a thousand years, but how old were the trees that went into its building?

An arched doorway leads from the courtyard into the great hall, with beautiful, mullioned windows either side and a border of fragrant herbs adding colour to the winter stone. The herbs would have been used in the kitchen, but also for medicine. Their bruised leaves would have fragranced rooms and perhaps clothing too.

As always, it is in such small details that you find the life of a place. Bruising the leaves of a hardy little plant, recognising its uses, because, hundreds of years later, you still use it yourself for the same purposes, you find a connection with the ancestors… those who went before us and who are part of our distant and extended human family.

It is in the practical things that made life more tolerable,  the simple solutions to everyday problems…like the runnels that drain the rainwater from the courtyard… that you feel a connection with history and know it to be part of your own story.

*Riddles of the Night was a Silent Eye workshop in Derbyshire, in December 2017. Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen can be found by clicking the highlighted links.

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Shaman, viral… collective unconscious ~ Steve Tanham

The last time it happened, I was in Mexico, in the Mayan temple of Chichen Itza. After a long coach journey, and a beautiful swim in cold but crystal clear cenote, we had arrived at the fabled temple complex; and were lucky enough to have one the best guides I have ever encountered.

He was of the native people and described – with great gentleness – how the spirit of what happened at the city-temple complex was gradually being lost.

Continue reading at Sun in Gemini

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Eve ~ Lisa Coleman #writephoto

On the Eve of Mardi Gras
We wondered into the woods
Chased by some crazies
Or maybe, I misunderstood.

My friends and I
Turned west in a flash
Donned on our masks
Crack, bang, clash.

Continue reading at Our Eyes Open

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