A touch of Spring.

We have had 3 lovely days of wall to wall sunshine in a row, and it is WONDERFUL. I have spent as much time outside as possible to make the most of it. Rumour has it, I may even have been working in the garden too! The moment Christmas is over, I am always looking for the first signs of spring - birch catkins, the silver pussy willow "paws", snowdrops, the first primrose, first celendine, Dog's Mercury in flower and of course, early crocuses and daffodils. I think I can tick the boxes of all those now.

Here are some Alexanders flowering in January, when we went to Kidwelly recently.



Nearby were some Butterburs flowering. They get their name as their large leaves used to be used to wrap butter in.


Near the castle, I found a Primrose in flower, in a sheltered spot.


Here is the first unfurled leaf, from our walk at Llanstephan Castle recently. I think it's a Sycamore.

Avebury - the most magical place.

Mystical Avebury . . .


Although I grew up in Wessex, I never visited Avebury until about 10 years ago, after a friend had mentioned walking round it one New Year. It was just the wrong side of Salisbury Plain for me, especially as I tended to go looking for the antiquities of Dorset rather than Wiltshire. So the next time we were heading for Hampshire, we went via Avebury. WOW! Archaeology is one of my passions. I saw pictures of Avebury in lectures at Uni. I included it in essays about stone circles, but until I went there, I really didn't know quite how amazing a place it is. It is so vast, that there is a whole village inside it. Truly - THAT big. There are massive ditches and ramparts surrounding the vast sarsen stones, which were dragged, rollered, removed somehow from the chalk downlands above Avebury and somehow engineered into place. It has an amazing atmosphere and to me, makes Stonehenge look like a Lego newbuild . . . The photo below gives you an idea of what the chalk downland looks like.



Avebury does not exist on its own as a monument. It is part of a ritual landscape, which includes Silbury Hill, which was built in the Neolithic. As a child I heard it said that there was a king on a golden horse buried at the bottom of it. Subsequent archaeological digs have proved this was never the case, sadly. However, it is the largest man-made mound in Europe and archaeologists have worked out that it would have taken 800 men ten years to complete - that would be working the year round.




For miles around, there are many barrows where the important people of the Neolithic and Bronze Age were buried. We have visited West Kennet Long barrow many times, with its huge blocking stones and extended barrow, perhaps a hundred feed long. It must have been a potent marker, perhaps a territorial one, when it was first built and pure white, like the Avebury ditches. It is of a type called Severn-Cotswold, a 'transepted gallery-grave' and was in use from 3700 BC (the early Neolithic) to 2200 BC, when it was sealed. The bones of some 46 individuals were found interred, and the older bones were carefully tidied before a new person was interred. The different chambers were used for children and juveniles together; male adult burials; old people; and mixed male and female bones. Here is a view from inside:

Close to Avebury are processional ways - stone rows to be exact - of smaller stones, called Beckhampton Avenue and West Kennet Avenue. The latter is the best-preserved avenue in central Southern England.

Contemporary with the construction and ritual use of Avebury was a ritual site called The Sanctuary, by William Stukely, an antiquarian in the early 18th century. Concrete bollards now mark the sites of post holes in concentric rings. It is believed to be a series of roofed circular buildings dating to about 3000 BC and renewed subsequently.

Here is a good view of the profile of the bank and ditch. When Avebury was first constructed, the ditch would not have silted up like this of course, and would have been glaringly white. That would truly have added to the WOW factor.


You need figures close to the stones to give you a true idea of the enormous size of many of them, but perhaps this picture conveys a little of their stature.


Houses are built close by and in the past some of the stones were broken up and incorporated into the buildings themselves.


The figures walking along the top of the bank helps convey the scale of the bank and ditch.


Many books have been written about the stones, one of them claiming that the stones are meant to represent male and female persona. The jury is still out on this one! I think it's the stone with a blow hole in it - on one visit there was a young woman blowing into a hole in one of the stones.




Concrete bollards now replace and mark where sarsens once stood. One or two other stones have been pieced back together after being broken up in past centuries. During renovation of the circle in the 1930s, one of the stones was found to have a skeleton beneath it. It was believed to be the body of a barber-surgeon because a pair of scissors and a medical probe being found with the body. A coin dated his death to the 14th century.





It is a truly amazing place with a wonderful atmosphere. It is still serving the people today - visitors, tourists, New Agers, Dowsers - you can even get married there I believe. If you've never been there - do try and visit . . .

This excellent site will give further photographs and tell you more about Avebury's history:
www.new-age.co.uk/avebury-stones.htm

Days out - the Smallholders' Fair at Builth

Here are a few photos from last year's Smallholders' Weekend at Builth Wells. I go every year with a friend of mine from the next village. There is always so much to see, and a lot of wonderful stalls intended to part you from your money! This time I bought a fleece for spinning, some lovely coloured locks of rare-breed wool for craftwork, plants for the garden, and something tasty for lunch - a venison-burger, which definitely hit the spot! It takes place in the middle of May and as you can see, is well worth a visit or even a planned weekend away to Wales. The dates this year are 17th and 18th May. Here's the link in case you want to know more:

www.rwas.co.uk/en/garden-festival/the-smallholder-garden-festival



There are always dozens and dozens of cages of various breeds of chickens and bantams for sale, as well as trays of fertilized eggs ready to go under a broody or in an incubator. Sometimes there are broody hens and chicks together, offered.

There are also hundreds of ducks and geese for sale, anything from chicks a few days old, to point of lay or mature birds.

These Alpaca were enjoying the sunshine, but not the attention of several toddlers who wanted mum to hold them up so they could stroke the Alpacas. This one looked downright cross!

There is a gardening section too, which has lots of stalls and individual garden layouts which are like a mini-Chelsea. I nearly always bring something new home for my garden. I wish it looked as good as this stall.

This is a scene from times gone by. The pink machine is a belt-driven (powered by steam) apple crusher, which would have been used on farms a hundred or so years ago to crush apples for cider making. The apples are in the white bags.


One of the craft stands. This one dealing with woven and knitted garments and rugs, from natural undyed fleeces. Judging by the picture on the rug on the wall, probably alpaca wool.

In fact, it could have come from these two, who were looking very superior in their "stable". There is always a good entry of various Camelids - Llamas, Alpacas and perhaps Vicunas? Camelids anyway . . .

There are showing classes for various breeds of sheep, goats and cattle. Here is a rather lovely Jacob ram, horns polished, coat beautifully groomed.

My husband would have spent a long time at this stall, which has a fascinating selection of old woodworking tools, and old farm tools. It was like a honeypot to all the men on the showground.

This is one of the beautifully restored old tractors. Entries are always high, and later in the day (after they have been suitably drooled over by all the blokes who spent some time at the tool stall above) they parade in one of the side rings.

Kelli's Show and Tell

This is my first Show & Tell. I hope I can work the links out!!

This is a beautiful plate I discovered at a Car Boot Sale here in Wales. It is late Victorian and a beautiful plate for putting a cake on for Sunday Best. The chap only wanted £1 for it. Needless to say, I couldn't resist such a beautiful plate (or such a bargain) and so it came home with me. I especially like the little blue birds on it (Blue Tits , just like the ones we get in our garden.) I keep it for Sunday Best too . . .

Farley Mount, Hampshire

Many thanks to Rex's Pictures Free for this FABULOUS photo of Farley Mount. I love the lines of it - stunning in black and white too.


I have vivid memories of riding here when I was about twelve, with my friend John. I was on one of his ponies, Tammy. We rode side by side up the track to it, the wind rippling the jade green heads of corn so that they undulated like packs of hunting stoats. The larks were singing overhead and swallows swooped for insects. The Hampshire landscape spread before us: a jigsaw of fields, hedgerows and woodland, shimmering in the heathaze of a hot June day.

As you can see, the monument is white, and like a small pyramid. It is high on the ridge of chalk downland and beneath it is apparently a Bronze Age barrow. It was built in memory of an extraordinary horse:

"Underneath lies buried a horse, the property of Paulet St John Esq, that in the month of September 1733 leaped into a chalk pit 25 feet deep afoxhunting with his master on his back and in October 1734, he won the Hunters Plate on Worthy Downs and was rode by his owner and was entered in the name of "Beware Chalk Pit."

The area is now a Country Park which to my mind has just spoilt it completely as I remember the solitude of the place. Here is a link to the church where many of the St John family are buried. I include it as it is so well done and you almost feel as if you have just visited the church.
http://www.southernlife.org.uk/farleych.htm

There is a Paulet's Lane near Testwood, where we used to go riding as children. I don't know the connection but would guess the family owned land in this area. Just been to check, and there is an Obituary for Sir Henry Charles Paulet, Bart, at Little Testwood, Southampton in the Illustrated London News, 1st. Jan, 1887. Checking further back the Paulet family held lands in this area for hundreds of years prior to this. Probably the Paulets and St Johns were also intermarried. You know - I could waste hours and hours looking up things like this. As I know this area quite well from my childhood, it is even more fascinating to read its history - though much of it is now one huge sprawling housing estate.

And if you want a ghost story, I shall spare you the really scary one I've just read, and leave you with this link instead:
http://www.southernlife.org.uk/eling_murder.htm

A walk to Llanstephan Castle

It was beautiful spring-like weather yesterday - blue, blue skies. Too nice to stay in doors, so I indulged my cabin fever and my husband and I drove to our nearest seaside, which is the estuary sands by Llanstephan Castle.

Llanstephan Beach and Castle are across the Towy Estuary from Ferryside. I believe there used to be a ferry which crossed the river. There are treachorous undercurrants there though, and the tide comes in very rapidly - the noise it made in its return yesterday was audible from the castle.



We walked along the beach, then up the little road from the beach (to enable people to launch small boats I presume) and then up the steep flight of steps to the path through the woods to the castle. Yes - these are every bit as steep as they look - murder to ageing kneecaps!




The first view of the castle as you climb the muddy farmtrack towards it. This is the Keep.


Inside the castle, this was the Inner Keep (of the Upper Ward).


There was once a splendid fireplace here. This is all that remains now.


This is looking back up the Towy Estuary.



The gatehouse in the Lower Ward, which was modified and the original entrance filled in, and it was turned into living quarters. The floor is replaced at the first floor level so you can walk across and have a different perspective of the castle grounds. The slots for the portcullis, and the "murder holes" are still there though.



Another view, through a window embrasure, looking up the Towy Estuary again and the houses at the approach to Ferryside village.


This is beyond Ferryside village, with the railway line running around the base of the headland.



Here is a link if you wish to find out more about the history of the castle:
http://www.castlewales.com/llanstef.html

Real country folk

When I was growing up, we had a wonderful programme on every Friday evening, about country matters. It was called "Out of Town" and for years the music was Max Bygraves singing the song of that name. Then this changed, and the most wonderful classical guitar music became the theme ("Recuerdos de la Alhambra". )

First of all a chap called Olly Kite was the presenter, but he died suddenly and the programme was taken over by Jack Hargreaves. Each week it would start with Jack in his workshop. There would be a little chat about a particular topic, and then you would go "out and about" with the camera, whilst Jack explained more about the subject. The love of his life was undoubtedly angling - but he made it interesting even for a teenage girl with no interest in fishing! However, he covered all country topics, and knew a lot about farming, and country ways. He would often end the programme with an unknown article from bygone days, and ask anyone who might know what it was to get in touch.

I met him once, at an auction in Dorchester. I was in the part selling items of horse tack. Jack was quiet and didn't mind me approaching him and telling him how much I enjoyed his programme, and asking what was he going to bid on? At that time he had a little white mule which he drove about the place, and he was looking for a browband for the mule. Not a whole bridle, not even a NEW browband, but one from an auction! He had Yorkshire roots , for all he had grown up on the outskirts of London, and I think his Yorkshire blood must have been to the fore that day!

There was another old countryman I loved to see on TV. This time he was like me, a proper "Hampshire Hog" - Norman Goodland. He lived around the Timsbury area of Hampshire, if my memory serves me well. I have a couple of his books here - "Down on the Farm" and "Country Craftiness". He had a keen ear for the local dialect - here is a short peace from a chapter " 'Angin' a geate":
'Angin' a geate? Ther' beant nwo 'hart' t' that as I can zee. 'Tis the knowin' ow' t' zet about 't. This yer's a gurt five-bar geate. This yer's the main-pwost: nine voot an' six inches long, nine inches square. Mun't be nwo narrier 'n that! 'E got t' be rounded at top luk, swo's t' keep out the weather. Ef un bean't rounded at top, un wun't least. And 'e got t' be woak. Ef un bean't woak vor a five-bar, thee's weaten' thy toime!

I was looking at the dialect poetry of Dorset's William Barnes this week, and thinking how much it was similar to the West Country dialects - especially Zummerzet (Somerset for Nancy & Co!). Yet, reading that bit from Norman Goodland, it would seem that Hampshire had a lot more in common with the West Country dialects than I realized. Here's an example of William Barnes' work. Girt is great; woak is oak; thik is this. Some of the words are still part of Dorset speech today (indeed I use them myself!)

THE GIRT WOAK TREE THAT'S IN THE DELL

The girt woak tree that's in the dell !
There's noo tree I do love so well;
Vor times an' times when I wer young
I there've a-climb'd, an' there've a-zwung,
An' pick'd the eacorns green, a-shed
In wrestlen storms from his broad head,
An' down below's the cloty brook
Where I did vish with line an' hook,
An' beat, in playsome dips and zwims,
The foamy stream, wi' white-skinn'd lim's.
An' there my mother nimbly shot
Her knitten-needles, as she zot
At evenen down below the wide
Woak's head, wi' father at her zide.
An' I've a-played wi' many a bwoy,
That's now a man an' gone awoy;
Zoo I do like noo tree so well
'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell.

An' there, in leater years, I roved
Wi' thik poor maid I fondly lov'd,-
The maid too feair to die so soon,-
When evenen twilight, or the moon,
Cast light enough 'ithin the pleace
To show the smiles upon her feace,
Wi' eyes so clear's the glassy pool,
An' lips an' cheaks so soft as wool.
There han' in han', wi' bosoms warm
Wi' love that burned but thought noo harm,
Below the wide-bough's tree we past
The happy hours that went too vast;
An' though she'll never be my wife,
She's still my leaden star o' life.
She's gone: an' she've a-left to me
Her token in the girt woak tree;
Zoo I do love noo tree so well
'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell.

An' oh ! mid never ax nor hook
Be brought to spweil his steately look;
Nor ever roun' his ribby zides
Mid cattle rub ther heairy hides;
Nor pigs rout up his turf, but keep
His lwonesome sheade vor harmless sheep;
An' let en grow, an' let en spread,
An' let en live when I be dead.
But oh! if men should come an' vell
The girt woak tree that's in the dell,
An' build his planks 'ithin the zide
O' zome girt ship to plough the tide,
Then, life or death ! I'd goo to sea,
A-sailen wi' the girt woak tree
An' I upon his planks would stand,
An' die a-fighten vor the land,-
The land so dear,-the land so free,-
The land that bore the girt woak tree;
Vor I do love noo tree so well
'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell.