The sight of Silbury in the distance shining out like a beacon in the distance as I made my way through the long wet grass and thistles along the edge of the bean field. Mysterious Silbury (archaeologists cannot reveal its secrets) viewed from the distance of the Windmill Hill approaches, has the appearance of being the vibrant heart of the landscape.
Windswept September poppies growing in the bean field.
A field of blackened beans going towards Windmill Hill from Winterbourne Monkton - something a bit eerie about the it, spoilt by the weeks of continual rain I wonder. I made my way around the edge of the field towards Windmill Hill following the tracks of some small animal, probably a hare as came across a form (resting place) further along. I could hear the squeaking of field mice as I walked.I ended up having to climb over a barbed wire fence when I reached the far corner of the field which was a bit tricky but as the saying goes where there is will there's a way.
The Winterbourne at Winterbourne Monkton (it may be a tributary called the Sambourne) my first visit to the village so my geography might need to be revised. I paid a visit to the peaceful little church which is open to visitors and got to touch and see for myself the famous Norman font with its fertility goddess engravings see;- http://www.swindonia.blogspot.com/ post on Winterbourne Monkton church.
A hedgerow Oak against the bright windswept sky - everything was fresh and glistening as I walked across the meadow at the back of the village in search of a footpath - I could hear the sound grasshoppers (or perhaps crickets). A pair of buzzards circled above, calling as they hovered.
The Winterbourne at Winterbourne Monkton (it may be a tributary called the Sambourne) my first visit to the village so my geography might need to be revised. I paid a visit to the peaceful little church which is open to visitors and got to touch and see for myself the famous Norman font with its fertility goddess engravings see;- http://www.swindonia.blogspot.com/ post on Winterbourne Monkton church.
A hedgerow Oak against the bright windswept sky - everything was fresh and glistening as I walked across the meadow at the back of the village in search of a footpath - I could hear the sound grasshoppers (or perhaps crickets). A pair of buzzards circled above, calling as they hovered.
