And so we find Edgar Allan Poe in Baltimore. Those who look to unravel the mystery of how Poe died here are chasing windmills or chasing a buck. There's a good reason we'll never know the truth about Poe in Baltimore on his fateful last visit. It's none of our business. Dying is a private … [Read more...] about Eating Poe: Poe in Baltimore, his last act on the mortal stage, living and dying in the shadow of the sea
Journal
Eating Poe: Part Three, Poe’s life New York City, where he found fame, tragedy and madness, and I search Il Buco for The Cask of Amontillado
It's a tantalizing legend, that the building that now houses Il Buco in New York City was the macabre inspiration in Poe's life for the setting of The Cask of Amontillado. The places Poe touched in Manhattan and the Bronx can still be found, though in most cases the surroundings are unrecognizable … [Read more...] about Eating Poe: Part Three, Poe’s life New York City, where he found fame, tragedy and madness, and I search Il Buco for The Cask of Amontillado
Pondering why landscapes become sacred and the mysteries of the Uffington White Horse, Uffington Castle and White Horse Hill
A month ago I stood atop a long barrow on White Horse Hill, with the grass covered chalk walls of Uffington Castle behind me, the galloping Uffington White Horse below me, and pondered a question for which there is no answer. What makes a landscape sacred? Is sacred the right word? Mystic … [Read more...] about Pondering why landscapes become sacred and the mysteries of the Uffington White Horse, Uffington Castle and White Horse Hill
The hammer of the gods still ring out at Wayland’s Smithy, a long barrow chamber tomb nestled in a secluded grove in Oxfordshire
The chambered tombs and long barrows of Britain have long tickled the imagination, and perhaps none more so than Wayland’s Smithy. Perhaps it’s the stand of beech trees enclosing it which makes it feel more intimate, more hushed. Unlike West Kennet Long Barrow near Avebury, sitting exposed to the … [Read more...] about The hammer of the gods still ring out at Wayland’s Smithy, a long barrow chamber tomb nestled in a secluded grove in Oxfordshire
The dark beauty of botanicals … haunting flora in fine art prints by Cate Davies
I always hated flower photography. Then I saw the floral art of British artist Cate Davies. She turned my head around. We equate flower photography with guys in safari vests sporting huge zoom lenses, stalking the local gardens. Or the garden club member who just got a new macro lens for their … [Read more...] about The dark beauty of botanicals … haunting flora in fine art prints by Cate Davies
Celebrating the Cowslip on May Day morning in the witch’s garden
Cowslip is staple of British folklore, herbalism and literature ... And I serve the Fairy Queen To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be. In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours; In those freckles live their savours. I must go seek … [Read more...] about Celebrating the Cowslip on May Day morning in the witch’s garden
Dearest H: The witch’s gardener mucks into spring
It was a cold, cold winter, and it ended with the rains which are carrying on still. As I’m due to travel next week, I thought it time I got your witch's garden ready for the spring, so I can return to find things well on their way. I've decided to scale back the vegetable garden … [Read more...] about Dearest H: The witch’s gardener mucks into spring
A drunken dirge, a traditional song of heartache and woe, I Courted A Wee Girl, or the False Bride
Scotland doesn't lack in songs about being forsaken in love. But according to Ewan MacColl, who recorded the song I Courted A Wee Girl in 1956, typically the hero shrugs it off. "In this curious little song, however, the jilted lover, after attending his ex-sweetheart's nuptials, just lies down and … [Read more...] about A drunken dirge, a traditional song of heartache and woe, I Courted A Wee Girl, or the False Bride
Folk horror from Wiltshire: The Blood Stone at Luccombe Spring, starving out the Vikings at Bratton Camp, the White Horse of Westbury and the nature of folklore
The Luccombe Valley below Salisbury Plain and Bratton Camp, just visible in the upper right. In the foreground are two of the four barrows in the valley, with one of the others being the site of the Bloodstone. While wandering on Salisbury plain one day I came across a hidden valley and … [Read more...] about Folk horror from Wiltshire: The Blood Stone at Luccombe Spring, starving out the Vikings at Bratton Camp, the White Horse of Westbury and the nature of folklore
On the mystery of a white horse carved into the slopes of Bratton Downs … the White Horse of Westbury
Looking down on the White Horse of Westbury from atop Salisbury Plain Nobody really knows when or why a chalk horse was carved onto the side of Bratton Downs, below the iron age Bratton Camp. The current version has evolved over the past two centuries into its rather literal shape today. An 18th … [Read more...] about On the mystery of a white horse carved into the slopes of Bratton Downs … the White Horse of Westbury
Saying goodbye to the darkness of love
A little over six months ago, I looked into the eyes of the lady I loved more than I’ve ever loved in my life, and said goodbye. It was only supposed to be for a couple months. Our time apart was always hard, a layer of darkness descending, like a sheet of black silk slowly wafting down on the … [Read more...] about Saying goodbye to the darkness of love
On Valentine’s Day: Surviving a broken heart, finding hope in Edgar A. Poe and Annabel Lee’s metaphoric necrophilia
Though it's tempting after reading Annabel Lee to believe Poe thought otherwise, sometimes love dies. There’s always a choice involved. Someone has to make the decision that this is it. If it’s not you, it’s a blow that’s hard to recover from. To start with, you don’t want to. Your love didn’t … [Read more...] about On Valentine’s Day: Surviving a broken heart, finding hope in Edgar A. Poe and Annabel Lee’s metaphoric necrophilia
