Category: Folktales & Legends
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the four green fields blog11: Holloways-A walk into hell lane
[A face carved into clay. Guardian of Hell Lane? Omen? Warning? Demon? Photo is mine.] Greenways, droveways, stanways, stoweys, bradways, whiteways, reddaways, radways, rudways, halsways, roundways, trodds, footpaths, fieldpaths, leys, dykes, drongs, sarns, snickets, bostles, shutes, driftways, lichways, sandways, ridings, halter-paths, cartways, carneys, causeways, here-paths – & also fearways, dangerways, coffin-paths, corpseways, & ghostways. ~~…
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the walking stick: father’s day 2025
I never wanted a Guinness more than the moment when I reached the bottom. ~~ Paul Egan. Upon finishing his climb of Croagh Patrick. [Paraphrased] Once upon a time, when I was a young boy, my father gave me a ‘beaver stick’. For my readers who have never had or seen a beaver stick, it…
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Below the equator vI: Among the thickly rooted trees
[Statuary in the Plaza San Martin de Tours. The park with the thickly rooted trees. Photo is mine] I was thinking about Ubers as ours clipped along Avenue Pueyrredon on our way to an art museum. I made a list of observations about the car service, comparing the ride here to a similar ride we…
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The Journey’s End 3: Inside Wimborne Minster-The Man In The Wall & The Chained Library
[Wimborne Minster. The Church of St Cuthburga. Wimborne, Dorset. Photo is mine.] The day we find the perfect church, it becomes imperfect the moment we join it. ~~Anon Where heaves the turf in many a mould’ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. ~~Thomas Gray Elegy…
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Aethelgifu, The Teenage Abbess: A Peak Inside The Walls Of The Shaftesbury Abbey
[Gold Hill, Shafesbury] Silence isn’t empty, it’s full of answers. It was a chilly day, this fourth day of October. Chilly and windy. Mariam and I had just had a very enjoyable lunch with a former student of mine, Sally, and her husband, Matthew. Sally was in my Geography class when I had the joy…
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The Terminus
[A card, purchased at a small souk in the Marrakech Market. It is my name, Patrick, written in Arabic by a calligrapher. The cost was about $4.00. A small amount for a priceless piece of art. Important to me. Photo is mine.] The end of journey is not a period, but a comma. ~~ Anon…
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