Who is the god of the Zodiac?
Fleet-footed Mercury with his snake-twined caduceus
Or the ever-triumphant Sol Invictus?
Maybe it’s jovial Jupiter with his far reach?
Or hot-headed Mars first into the breach?
No, I’ll tell you, you heathens:
Mithras, beloved of legions
Image sourced from Catalogue of Monuments and Images of Mithras
See also my post from way-way back (2014): The Chap in the (Red) Cap
written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt
Taken from Google Maps
To see him stood like a sentinel beside his suitcase, a photo clutched to his chest, brought unstoppable tears to Maureen’s eyes.
‘That, my boy,’ his father had said, ‘is where we’re to live.’
‘Now you remember,’ Maureen told him. ‘You’re James Harris now.’
His father had officially adopted him. Maureen hadn’t realised it would remove her rights as his mother. ‘I can’t take him to Selma without it,’ he’d said.
And she was white and couldn’t go with them. She cursed that night they met at a dance on Mildenhall Air Base.
But this was best for the boy. Maureen Applegate’s black bastard—what else to expect from that family, the whole lot of them no-gooders, that’s what they said. No, James would do better there, amongst his own kind.
Wordcount: 131
Written for What Pegman Saw
Based on a true story. Maureen never again saw her boy. She died of cancer five years later.
Woodbine, aka Honeysuckle aka Lonicera periclymenum opens its flowers … and I couldn’t decide which shot to use. All photos taken 16th May 2019
No, that’s not the name of this gentleman’s wife (it was Mary), but the village where this magnificent marble effigy can be found.
Myles and Mary Branthwaite in Hethel church: 16 May 2019
Norwich born Myles Branthwaite Esq, died August 1612, aged 55. Dates are not given for his wife.
1612, I think that qualifies for the #2019picoftheweek title: A Long Time Ago
[For details of #2019picoftheweek challenge see MariaAntonia]
Despite I am impressed by the marble carving and its detail, that’s not why the tiny Norfolk village of Hethel is famous. It lays claim to two unrelated features.
Hethel Old Thorn: 16 May 2019
At 0.025 hectares Hethel Old Thorn is possibly one of the smallest nature reserves in England.
Reputed meeting place for the peasants during their revolt against King John, which puts its age in excess of 700 years. In 1841, when Ninhams produced the engraving (seen on Norfolk Naturalists Trust’s signage below) the trunk then measured 12’ 1” in circumference, with a branch-spread of over 31 yards. Since then the thorn has split into several separate portions, all still very much alive.
Norfolk Naturalists Trust showing etching by Ninhams executed 1841: 16 May 2019
And Hethel is also HQ for the famous Lotus sports and racing cars, and home of the Formula One Team Lotus. (Sorry, no photos)
Crimson’s Creative Challenge #27
Come dance with me in the month of May
Come welcome in the green-clothed day
Come follow where the fairies tread
Where decked in white fay maidens wed
Come skip with me and flick your heels
Dance Irish jigs and Scottish reels
Come follow me and sing a song
Don’t know the words? Tra-lah along
For ended is the winter’s dearth
Let’s celebrate the new green Earth
CCC#27
Welcome to my weekly challenge—open to all—just for FUN, FUN, FUN
Here’s how it works:
Every Wednesday I post a photo (this week it’s that one above.)
You respond with something CREATIVE
Here are some suggestions:
You have plenty of scope and only two criteria:
If you post a link in the comments section of this post I’ll be able to find it
If you include Crimson’s Creative Challenge as a heading, WP Search will find it (theory)
If you tag it #CCC others should be able to find it by ‘Searching’ in the WP Reader (fingers crossed)
Here’s wishing you inspirational explosions. And FUN.
Did you love him?
Who me? Don’t be ridiculous.
Did you send him that letter?
Certainly not. I would not.
Did you take the photos?
Of him and that girl? No, wasn’t me.
Did you tamper with his car?
And what do I know about cars? You think me a mechanic? I’m not.
Did you kill him?
You mean those hemlock seeds found in his pepper-grinder? Do you have my fingerprints?
Yes.
Then what use my denial?
77 words
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt
Madagascar from Google Maps
Wood is for the living; stone for the dead. That’s the old way.
Yes, Papa, but if we keep chopping down trees and grubbing them up, there’ll be nothing left but the ancestral stones.
My boy, my boy, we honour our ancestors, we follow their ways. Would you have us dishonour them, have them bring plague or famine upon us?
No, Papa, no. But after two thousand years of our ancestors’ ways, what’s left for the living? Not for you, not for me, but there are other things here, alive and equally deserving.
And wood, my boy, is for the living, and stone for the dead. So, you answer me this: What is our reason for living, if not to honour those who went before us?
But, Papa, look! This is what’s left. Nothing. And now not even me, Papa. I’m leaving.
wordcount: 142
Written for What Pegman Saw
Wood is for the living, and stone for the dead: So said Malagasy archaeologist Ramilisonina to the British archaeologist Mike Pearson Parker on seeing Stonehenge during a visit to England after their many seasons of fieldwork together in Madagascar. As Mike Pearson Parker later reported, these words opened his eyes to the intrinsic nature of the megalithic monument and launched him into the most successful and thorough exploration of the surrounding landscape. To say I am in awe of Mike Pearson Parker, and through him Ramilisonina, is an understatement. I drool at their feet. And I’m sure Ramilisonina, whose life-work has been the study of the island’s prehistory, would not like to see all that he loves crumble because of an adherence to ‘the old ways’.
Last Friday’s walk yielded lots of photos of wayside plants. Which to feature is the problem.
Goddess of the Hedge … can you see her? 3rd May 2019
In times of yore hedges were ‘laid’ … i.e. cut in such a way as to encourage new growth which then would weave a sturdy, beast-proof barrier. While the practice has been revived on nature reserves, it’s time-consuming and isn’t practiced elsewhere.
However, walk alongside an old hedge, and chances are you’ll see an unnatural pattern of growth down by its soil-eroded roots. As in this one above. But this ancient hedge is doubly exceptional, in that it is oak. So possibly it predates *enclosure* when quickthorn and hawthorn became the norm.
Cascades of white as stitchwort tumbles down a grassy bank beside a country lane: 3rd May 2019
Horsetail, a relic of the Age of Dinosaurs: 3rd May 2019
Horsetails poke their orange heads above the more common hedge plants along this swampy-verge beside Cargate Lane … and even the name shouts of age.
Apple blossom: 3rd May 2019
And what is a wayside hedge without the odd apple? This last image makes me think of the Garden of Eden …
Oak gall in my daughter’s hand: 3rd May 2019
Undeniably eligible for the 2019picoftheweek title: In Your Hand
[For details of #2019picoftheweek challenge see MariaAntonia]
The gall-fly, in need of sustenance for her developing larvae, genetically modifies the oak to produce for her infants this cosy home. I know some of my readers will high-five the air when I say reproduction for the gall-fly (aka gall wasp) is usually parthenogenetic … i.e. no male required.
