What a difference a few weeks make. Here’s a version I posted a month ago (https://islerweb.com/2023/04/20/treelines/)
Cows Among the Gorse
Poor Tom’s a-cold
William Shakespeare – King Lear Act 3 Scene 4 the blasted heath
Tom’s a-cold,– O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there could I have him now,–and there,–and there again, and there.
Ain’t he Coot?
Taking the Long View
This visit to Caesar’s Camp we struck out in a different direction and got different views.
Mossy Tree Portrait
Came upon these colourful people at the beginning of our walk. I asked a bystander what was going on and he told me these were past mayors of Farnham. His wife, he said, was the current mayor.
Clouds within Clouds
I’m not quite sure the picture conveys the magical depth of the 2 little clouds’ appearance within the larger white cloud. It looked special at the time.
Five Piles of Dirt
Two Green Trees
Blue and Green
Even More Pubs
Click any image to see them all full-sized.
St Augustine’s Abbey
Our final stop was at the ancient Canterbury Abbey, home to St Augustine in the mission which established Christianity in Britain, dating to the 6th century CE. It fell victim to Henry the VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries in the 1530s, alluded to by Shakespeare in the highlighted line of the sonnet below, and fell into ruin. It was subsequently rebuilt as a royal palace, a poorhouse, a gaol and a school, before lapsing again into ruin.
This concludes our trip to Canterbury and Margate of a month ago (!) Click any of the images to see all of them full-sized.
By William Shakespeare
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum’d with that which it was nourish’d by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Beaney House of Art and Knowledge
Back in the High Street, we visited the Beaney House of Art & Knowledge. While in America we tend to revere the Magna Carta (statues of them above) for expanding the rights of the people, in fact, the Barons were wresting power from the King with no regard for the ‘people,’ beyond their own right to exploit them.
Once again, I confronted a museum mirror, this one with a sign encouraging photography adjacent. What else could I do? Click any of the pictures to see them all big.
Next we walked down Church Ln to Stour St. Christopher (Kit) Marlowe was born in Canterbury (for an excellent historical novel, read Anthony Burgess’s A Dead Man in Deptford), passing through Beer Cart Ln by the Marlowe Kit to Greyfriars Gardens. Passing through the gardens we came out into St Peter’s Grove, a street that looks like all those English ’60s movies. Click any of the pictures to enlarge them all.