For me, Cobble stones reflect a passage of time through history that is a tangible link with the past and the people who walked upon them. They give off a sense of permanence, of pride, of workmanship, of hard work, of satisfaction, of a job well done, of beauty; they bring their time to life.
They also tell of the fragility of our own life of three score years and ten that will leave only dust as a measure of our own endeavours. Yet there is a story a cobbled path can still tell long after the people of their time and since have gone.
PS. Many thanks for the kind and appreciative words for my post 'An Evenin' Ramble'.
3rd Feb 2012, 17:48
This out-of-the-way ramshackle small holding is set in a dip below the railway embankment with a track leading through the tunnel beyond to the River Goyt and Roman Lakes. I hardly ever see a soul during the hour and a half of a late afternoon walk with Gunner.
Impatient water, proud viaduct, call of a fox, neigh of a horse, trill of a robin, caw of a crow, crunch of boot on gravel, report of a shotgun, buzz of a chainsaw, growl of a tractor, blackbird rustling the leaf litter, bark of a stray dog, far off voice calling a beloved horse to hand, trees creaking, rattle of a passing train, stumps of recently felled trees, an old footpath re-established, wood-piles left to birds and bugs, cushioning wood chippings underfoot, the stoic rhythm of a narrowboat engine, wood smoke on the air, glow from a far off cottage window, welcoming navigation light, smoke lazily drifting from a boat chimney (mine), daylight gone, Gunner nuzzling my hand in the darkness; just some of the sights and sounds from an evening walk.
31st Jan 2012, 11:41
That cloud is level with us. The wonder of 'weather'
27th Jan 2012, 12:23