The Uncanny Hills
The scenic Preseli Hills, a place of great natural beauty and notably the origin place of the bluestone used for the inner circle of Stonehenge. Were they, as usually thought, taken there by human strength and ingenuity? Hacked from the living hillside and painstakingly transported across untamed Bronze Age Britain at the behest of chiefs and shamans? Or, as some recent scholarship suggests, were they carried there mindlessly by the Irish Sea Glacier on it’s inhumanly slow scouring of the land?
What looks to be a small child’s waterproof boot, found sitting on a flat stone near the top of a hill. From it’s condition it must have been there for quite some time. An offering of some kind? Or the remains of one?
A little down the hill from the boot, one of many small stone circles found in the area. It seems almost as if the jagged rocks had thrust themselves out of the boggy ground, rather than the reverse; momentarily I thought of a mouthful of broken fangs. The stone at the lower-right of the picture appeared to have been broken, or perhaps eroded away, thus creating an gap in the sacred geometry.
A wooden signboard; I wondered what purpose it could have served amidst the rocks and some distance from anything that could be considered a path. Whatever was pinned to it has mostly been torn away, save a few ribbons of paper – as exposed to the elements as it was this could be no surprise. Out of sight a lonely sheep was bleating, calling I thought to it’s distant flock.
My colleague asked me to take his picture; as I peered at the screen it seemed as though the sun were sucking light from the bright earth, rather than shining upon it. I thought of the Schwarze Sonne of Migration Age Germanic occultism. No doubt it was a trick of the mind brought on by my unacustomed exertions, or else an artifact of my amateurish fumbling with the camera. We made our way back to the automobile in relative silence, save for snatches of birdsong and the rumbling of an aircraft overhead.