… spotted on a walk through the picture-postcard-pretty village of Redmire in North Yorkshire. But just you wait till you find out who else we came across. Watch this space.
A Job of the Scary Kind …
New Kinds of Standing Stones
Dumfries and Galloway is good at pre- and early history. I took you to Cairn Holy a few days ago. And apparently their long tradition of standing stones lives on. I had a walk along the beach at Mossyard Bay, and this is what I found – standing stones, no higher than a school ruler, erected – oh, as late as September 2020.
The Devil is Not Kind
Blackberries this year have been wonderful. From early August until a few days ago, I’d come home from every country walk with stained lips and fingers, and a bag full of purple fruits. But it’s all over now, because on 29th September, Michaelmas Day, the Devil came along, as he does every year, and spat on every remaining berry. If you favour the old Church calendar, you’ve got till 10th October, but whichever one you follow, blackberrying’s pretty much over for another year. The Devil is not kind.
My Kind of View from My Kind of Window
It’s time for another Virtual Vacation, Let’s go to Seville, just for the day. If we pop into this bar, we can look through its window, and see for ourselves the view of la Giralda and the city centre which is currently reflected onto the outside of it. Which is kind of fun.
My First Hedgehog
I haven’t seen a live hedgehog all year. Last summer, for almost a month, we had one who came every afternoon and fossicked for grubs and worms somewhere near the study window. She (he?) kept it up for about a month, then, suddenly … nothing. No more hedgehog.
This year, I’ve seen only road kill. Yesterday though, on volunteer duty at Fountains Abbey, I noticed something very un-pheasant like among all the pheasants cruising on a lawn near the Banqueting House. It was a hedgehog. She (he?) delighted me . Like most people, I take very kindly to these charming – and now endangered – creatures.
Six Degrees of Separation in October
Our starting point for this month’s Six Degrees of Separation Challenge is The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. Our job as participants is to show how one book leads to another, each link taking us further and further from the original (maybe).
I’m linking Turn of the Screw with a detective story set in present-day Venice. Bear with me. I’m a big fan of Commissario Brunetti who lives there with his family. Enjoying the moments that Brunetti spends at home or ranging round the city he loves for all its faults are a real reason for reading Donna Leon’s books. Brunetti’s wife Paola teaches at the university, and she’s a big fan of Henry James’ writing. I’ll put Trace Elements into the mix, as it’s the last Donna Leon I read.
I like Leon’s writing because she summons up Venice and day-to-day life there so vividly. Graham Hurley has a similar talent. His detective, Joe Faraday, lives in Portsmouth, as I once did. Faraday’s life is one of juggling crime, endless paperwork, a bitty personal life, and birdwatching. It feels very real. Turnstone is the first, but by no means the only one of his books that I’ve read.
Birdwatching had me remembering A Shadow Above. The author, Joe Shute loves ravens. Part natural history; part history; part an exploration of the many legends that this bird has fostered; part investigative journalism; part personal history, this is an engaging, immersive read that goes a long way towards explaining why ravens have a special place in our history.
And so to another author who’s immersed in the natural world – Melissa Harrison. The first book of hers that I read was a novel: At Hawthorn Time. Even more than the involving story following the lives of a couple with a dissolving marriage newly arrived at the village; a near-vagrant and a disaffected young man, I relished her descriptions of the countryside, whether observations of plant and bird life or a litter strewn roadside edge. Her characters rang true, as well as her clear-eyed descriptions of village life.
This reminded me of a non-fiction book, a real good read: A Buzz in the Meadow: the Natural History of a French Farm, by Dave Goulson. This is a delight. The catalyst for writing it is his home in the Charente, bought so he could provide home, in the form of an extensive meadow, to a huge variety of wildlife, specifically insects. This is no Aga-saga of a Brit in France, but a mixture of reminiscence, hard scientific fact, vivid stories of his own experiments and research, and the work of others. It’s a page turner and a tale well told with humour, and an eye for the telling detail. I’m no scientist, but I was absorbed from start to finish.
Goulson knows his home patch intimately. Lara Maiklem knows the London Thames intimately. She’s a mudlarker, who scours the banks of the river looking for its hidden history whenever she can. World War weaponry, Victorian toys, Georgian clay pipes, Tudor buttons, Roman pottery, even Neolithic flints are all there, waiting to be found. In Mudlarking, Maiklem writes an entertaining account of her finds and adventures, stitching them into a readable history of London itself: the growth of the city and its changing fortunes.
So there we have it. Six books following no kind of theme. But they’re the kinds of book I’ve liked and have enjoyed over the last year or so.
October Squares: #Kinda Square
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Kindly Cows?
As we began our walk in Wensleydale this week, we were inspected by these curious cows. With two cow-related deaths in the news last week, I was glad they were safely tucked behind a drystone wall. I’m kind of wary these days.
Two of a Kind: Cairn Holy
Cairn Holy 1
Cairn Holy 2.
Two tombs, jagged and skeletal, lie at the top of a narrow country road in Dumfries and Galloway. Cairn Holy 1 and Cairn Holy 2. They’re two of a kind: the final resting places of notable people living some 5000 years ago. Might one of them have been the tomb of the legendary King Galdus? Probably not, but we shall never know.
What’s astonishing though is the wealth that these tombs once contained. Particularly amazing is a jadeite axe. This mineral is not found locally, but comes from the Alps, 1500 km away. Imagine having the wealth and power in Neolithic times to import such an exotic artefact!
These tombs didn’t originally have the standing-stone appearance they now have. The stones originally totally covering them have been plundered for building over the centuries. But standing stark against the landscape they announce themselves as being yet another sign of the ancient history which is still so visible in this part of Scotland.
Trusty’s Hill and Rutherford’s Monument
A sortie to find some carved Pictish stones on what might once have been a royal fort, followed by a climb to visit a local landmark, the obelisk to the Reverend Samuel Rutherford seemed like a plan for a late afternoon last week. It was only a three and a half mile walk after all.
What I hadn’t taken into account was that this is rough, undulating landscape, and entirely beautiful. It demands we take the time to stand and stare. So I did.
Trusty’s Hill proved to be a chance for a first viewing of the Rutherford Monument, as well as an opportunity to peer at Pictish carvings. This site was the site of an ancient fire so fierce that the stone there vitrified. The hill might, round about 600 AD, have been a citadel. It was certainly a fine vantage point from which to view what could once have been the lost Scottish kingdom of Rheged.
Pictish symbols…
… and more, clearly visible at the top of the hill.
Onwards to the Rutherford Monument, built by grateful parishioners to honour the memory of a priest who, though an academic, a thinker and a teacher, cared for his flock in practical as well as spiritual ways and who was constantly at odds with the establishment to the extent that he was awaiting being tried for treason at his death. These days, there’s a Millennium Cairn, detailing all the ministers of Anwoth and Girthon since 1560 , and a trig point on two adjacent hills. All three provide splendid views to the Fleet estuary far below and the hills beyond.
This composite image of my walk was automatically generated by Google. I think it’s grasped the sweep of this landscape quite well.
Looking towards the hills…
Looking towards the Fleet Firth…
The clouds became quite dramatic.
Another view of the Firth
Looking down from the Monument.
… and up to the Monument.
Another view from the Cairn.
And a view from the Trig point.
Looking down from the Trig point.
Then it was down, down through a wooded trail to reach Anwoth Church, now roofless and ruined, before coming back to Gatehouse of Fleet along a quiet county track.
The walk continues.
Anwoth Church.
‘Beside the Seaside, Beside the Sea …’
Dumfries & Galloway is our new favourite place. We felt as though we’d discovered it and had it all to ourselves. We explored the wildly beautiful and seemingly remote Cairnsmore of Fleet National Natural Nature Reserve. We found ancient cairns. We slogged up hills for the sake of views over the Solway Firth. And we enjoyed the beaches. We’ll take a virtual seaside trip today: there’s not a fairground ride, amusement arcade or kiss-me-quick hat in sight. There’s not even a chippie. Just us, the rocky shore, and the sea, advancing or retreating with the tide.
Let’s begin at Mossyard Bay. I sent you a postcard from there just last Thursday.
A rocky shore
So many shells.
The tide’s just gone out.
There’s sand as well as rock.
This seemingly ancient labyrinth was constructed in 1990 on a small island that develops every time the tide comes into Mossyard Bay.
Plants cling to any dry shard of rock.
Near Mutehill, Kirkudbright, early one morning.
Finally, Carsethorne, near Dumfries. It’s a small hamlet now, but it used to be a busy port, shipping people to Liverpool, to the Isle of Man and to Ireland on their way to a new life in the New World.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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