This was taken as I stood underneath the oldest Yew tree in Europe.
A tiny village in Wales is believed to be home to Britain’s oldest tree – a yew that first took took root more than 5,000 years ago. Yes.. I will repeat that… 5000 years old!!
The majestic yew that lives in in a Welsh churchyard was 3,000 years old when Jesus Christ was born, according to tree ageing experts.
Experts have run tests on the tree in the St Cynog’s churchyard at Defynnog near Sennybridge, Powys, including DNA and ring-dating.
Living here on Exmoor, the landscape views can be spectacular, if a little bleak when its grey. This was taken on a lovely Spring day.
The blog post is in response to the Daily Post – Weekly Photo Challenge of ” Landscape”
For this week’s Photo Challenge, the theme is creepy.
I always remember the little rhyme from my childhood that you were supposed to say when seeing Magpies. The first line was “One for sorrow…” It affected me a lot when i was young, and even to this day, when I see a single Magpie , I find a shiver down my back.
Moon over Exmoor
Moonlight by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
As a pale phantom with a lamp
Ascends some ruin’s haunted stair,
So glides the moon along the damp
Mysterious chambers of the air.
Now hidden in cloud, and now revealed,
As if this phantom, full of pain,
Were by the crumbling walls concealed,
And at the windows seen again.
Until at last, serene and proud
In all the splendor of her light,
She walks the terraces of cloud,
Supreme as Empress of the Night.
I look, but recognize no more
Objects familiar to my view;
The very pathway to my door
Is an enchanted avenue.
All things are changed. One mass of shade,
The elm-trees drop their curtains down;
By palace, park, and colonnade
I walk as in a foreign town.
The very ground beneath my feet
Is clothed with a diviner air;
While marble paves the silent street
And glimmers in the empty square.
Illusion! Underneath there lies
The common life of every day;
Only the spirit glorifies
With its own tints the sober gray.
In vain we look, in vain uplift
Our eyes to heaven, if we are blind;
We see but what we have the gift
Of seeing; what we bring we find.
November’s here, let it begin
If you truly believe, then it’s a sin
Christmas has started, hear the plea.
All They want is your money
In this financial climate that’s so funny
Corporate greed is there to see.
People with no heart
Have it torn apart
Religion and business will not let you free.
Look to the stars, the consolation
All you see that glitters is consternation
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to flee.
They want your Dollar, they want their pound,
They brow beat you mercilessly, into the ground.
Money doesn’t grow on a tree.
A child’s heart and their smile can be sought
But does not have to be bought
I shout! hear my plea.
Old eyes will weep for those who have past
But fresh in memories that will last
Humbug! Sigh humbug!
Watch the child decorate the tree.
Let us all embrace Christmas’s happiness
Put aside the sadness
No more humbug! Humbug!
Let the children play and shout, with laughter full of glee.
As I wash the families dinner dishes
Hopefully came true all your wishes
Humbug! Humbug is now a sweet
As I sit back and put up my feet.
Old Buddleia bush forming natural curves in its bark.