Great Britain
by Jane on March 10th, 2010
Of all the places I’ve traveled, nowhere in the world is the countryside quite like where I grew up in England. In Norfolk, the skies are magnificent and there is a keen sense of the past emanating from the large country estates and the ambling footpaths. There are open gardens to keep you just busy enough to still have time for a nice pub lunch. I love to go to a little hotel in a park where herds of deer are bred for the stately homes. The houses there are built of flint, with thatched roofs.
Last fall, I visited the bleak moors of the Border Country (between Scotland and England). During one drive, my guide pointed to a clump of trees far off in a field. She explained that the owner of the field had recently sold all his land except for this clump. It contained the family mausoleum. Raised on a haha (a parcel of land isolated by a sunken fence) to keep the cattle out, it was an isolated island of melancholy. We walked up to the wall and found an old gate with inlaid steps up to the haha. In the very center: an old stone mausoleum structure with beautiful carvings dating back to the 1600s. Evidently, the old man who owns the haha comes once a year to clear it out, mend the wall, and embed new sayings. It was a fantastic experience in every sense of the word.
In Wiltshire, in the south of England, there are similar clumps of trees—usually round clusters of them on top of knolls—which are old burial grounds of the Druids. These are quiet, spiritual places, filled with roots, silence, and wind.
Ahhh, your words about England conjure up such fantastic images. Thanks for sharing!
“An isolated island of melancholy” – I love this phrase. I feel the spirit of this place deeply. I want to go there.