It was just over a month ago that we were standing on the top of the Tor in Glastonbury desperate for shelter from the icy blast of the wind as it cut its way across the levels. The concrete steps that led up the hill’s steep sides were packed with ice and the paths were buried under a foot of snow. But we rose to the challenge, and the climb was indeed easier than the descent, for going down we could see how far we could fall, while going up our eyes were full of wind blown tears.
This week we bask in the glory of spring sunshine as we finally thaw, the heating is turned off and the windows are flung wide to let in air fragranced with blossoms and barbeques. On top of the Tor this evening I saw the face of the wind as he blew away the thunder clouds. As the saying goes, an English summer is two fine days followed by a storm…
Everybody on top of the hill was smiling as the sun was going down. There was a witch with her crystal skulls and wire pyramid, performing an incantation. It must have gone well as she was offered a cup of tea by a young couple almost immediately. There were circus performers with their sparkly sticks, diabolos and kite spinners, and a man with a tripod and camera who arrived just after the sun disappeared.
On one side of the hill we could watch the sun go down, and on the other side we could watch the lightning crackle over Wells and the Mendip hills. Below us, the lambs in the back field cried out in the dying light.
As the clouds gathered for another go I made off back down the concrete steps.
Next time you are in Somerset, come here, come to the Tor, with me…
14thcenturypoet 