Traitor's Ford

Follow a tiny road from the village where I live, out of the valley, along the ridge, and head down into the next valley.  You pass into a covering of trees and at the bottom, there is a ford.  It is called Traitor's Ford, and stories tell of a clash between Royalists and Parliamentarians soon after the battle of Edgehill, which took place some 10 miles further north.

It is a beautiful place, where sounds of the 'outside' world give way to the sound of water running over stones and the song of birds according to season and time of day.  The water is usually a gentle trickle as it runs through to join the river Stour, yet with the floods a few years ago, it became a powerful torrent, 6 feet deep.

This place has no official status as a sacred site, which is partly why I love it so much. It is simply a meeting place between water and track way.  If I am driving that way, I often stop over the water and open the door of the car to watch and listen to the water flowing away under me.  At other times, I go there specifically to find peace and quiet, to listen, or to share a dram with the spirits of place.  No formalities, just easy being.