A ghost that floats over ancient fields I roam

[ashlyme]

 

We went out Saturday to try and clear our heads a bit. We plumped for Allesley. It's quite close to the city centre and there's a holloway there; I've just read Macfarlane, Donwood, and Richards' book on the subject. Plus there's a tried-and-tested pub there that does an excellent cheeseboard. 

 

A quick delve in Oxfam yielded an early 70s street-map/guide to Coventry and a copy of A. L. Lloyd's FOLK SONG IN ENGLAND. Then out to Allesley. The church (All Saints) is a mixture of Early English, Norman, and 1860s restoration in dull pink sandstone. The rebuilt spire looks a bit askew crowned with a pennant weathervane. They're leaving part of the churchyard clear to cut a turf maze. I'll go back and wander that when it's done.

 

Behind All Saints there's a ridge and furrow field, auburn earth ridged by medieval ploughing; the blackthorn there is still creamy with flowers. A rippled red path takes you into the holloway. You walk uphill past domed fields (oaks misty with new leaves; russet molehills; a horse grazing by a distant fence); an annex of the churchyard; a dead and cropped tree like a signpost. The lane itself isn't very deep; we found old bricks in the soil from a previous paving. I stepped in horseshit and didn't mind - it felt like home. There was a floral scent in the lane, sweet like elder or May, but neither of those were in flower yet and it wasn't the blackthorn; I don't know if you can call that a haunting.

 

We got into The Rainbow ahead of the showers to find a Bank Holiday beer festival on; so worked our way through several different ales as well as various cheddars, walnuts, grapes, and bread. I can't say we came back with clear heads but we didn't regret it. 

 

Currently reading George Ewart Evans' ASK THE FELLOWS WHO CUT THE HAY, a history of Suffolk farming and village life. Good, if a bit of a trudge in places.

 

 

 

Comments

[cmcmck]

The Lloyd book is well worth having!

[sovay]

They're leaving part of the churchyard clear to cut a turf maze. I'll go back and wander that when it's done.

I seem to live in a country with a distinct lack of mazes except around Halloween. I look forward to hearing about yours.

You walk uphill past domed fields (oaks misty with new leaves; russet molehills; a horse grazing by a distant fence); an annex of the churchyard; a dead and cropped tree like a signpost.

I love your nature writing. Macfarlane could take notes from you.

There was a floral scent in the lane, sweet like elder or May, but neither of those were in flower yet and it wasn't the blackthorn; I don't know if you can call that a haunting.

I don't see why not.

*hugs*

[ashlyme]

I'll look forward to that. I love the cover; it looks like a rural Matt Smith trying to flog broadsides.

[ashlyme]

*I look forward to hearing about yours.*

They're quite a recent interest, and I'd like to solve one a little bigger than the maze-puzzle badge on my coat. I'll happily play Troy Town for you!

*Macfarlane could take notes from you.*

Oh wow. Thank you so much! 💜

*I don't see why not.*

There's worse things to be haunted by. My sense of smell is usually lousy, so I'll take it. *Hugs*