Weekend Wanderings #2: the giant's feet

Another glorious day greeted us. Friend AK didn't want to go for a walk, as she has caught a cold standing outside the health centre in all weathers, helping others to get their vaccination. She is an employee. Collateral damage?

CleanSteve and I drove to Cherington, near Tetbury. We know it for the pond, and the drifts of snowdrops along the high bank, but hadn't been there for years. From what I can work out, it was part of the Cherington Park estate, which is described as follows: 

"Sale particulars dating back to 1888 mentioned flower gardens, shrubberies and pleasure grounds. There was also a vinery on one end of the house and productive walled gardens and orchards .By the mid-19th century (sic) (sale particulars 1935) there was a bowling green and tennis and croquet lawns as well as ornamental and productive gardens. The ornamental gardens included a formal walled garden with herbaceous borders and fruit trees. Cherington Pond, 4.5 acres (about 1.8 hectares), with its boathouse was included as part of the estate sale. Mention was also made of winding walks, pastureland and well-timbered parkland. A description of the gardens dating back to 1974 mentioned lawns, a yew hedge and a large specimen monkey puzzle tree.

The park had been created by 1730 and served as a deer park in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Cherington Pond was dug in 1740 as part of improvements to the manor house estate. At one time it was well-known as a summer weekend destination for industrial workers from nearby Stroud and Nailsworth".

The pond remains, but of the rest there is little trace. Compared with the very well-to-do estate I visited yesterday at Miserden, this is a very different kettle of fish. 

We enjoyed the walk, though, and the sunshine. I snapped this tree's 'feet' because a pond shot would have looked very similar to yesterdays' lake pic. One difference here was that two swans had made a nest, and were sitting on it, one of them never leaving, while the other one glided towards us, hoping for food. Unfortunately I don't carry swan food around with me, and a loaf of bread might not be a healthy option.

After our circular walk, we drove on towards the village of Rodmarton, because CleanSteve had spotted a Neolithic long barrow, a burial chamber from 5,500 years ago that neither of us had ever visited. You can't go in and crawl among the bones, and the top of the tump is all lumpy, because earlier enthusiasts had dug it up and rifled the contents, but it's still an impressive sight, now with trees growing on the mound. A very large family with two dogs was picknicking there, and another dog walker came along, causing me to remark that the site was becoming like Neolithic Piccadilly Circus, but there was room for all of us, and the site is well maintained by English Heritage. The last excavation was in 1987. Some of the skulls were found to have been fractured by suspected blunt-force trauma, suggesting that violence had caused some of the deaths.  I wonder what historians will make of our CoVid era. Already there is talk of what kind of memorials should be erected to remember our pandemic-dead. All I can think is, spare me the large lump of stone or the big man on the horse. Remember the grannies, the friends,  the neighbours; the doctors, nurses, teachers, the people of colour, the manual workers...

I've included  in extras a shot of the Long Barrow, which gives an idea of the size. CleanSteve has blipped it.

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