Wandering and pondering – taking my imagination for a walk.

The dog and I are taking my imagination for a walk. I’ve got my scarf on. It is bright and chilly, my favourite walking weather.

Our daily walk is not huge; a good forty five minute loop with the option of shortening or lengthening the distance by adding on the extra paths that run off the main route. It is ideal for paws that are sometimes in need of a shorter sojourn.

Despite its length, you can see a whole lot of human history if you look up from the path and dream a little. The Priory Church, of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, at the bottom of the hill was home to both monks and nuns – at separate times. I imagine them wandering, out to visit the local churches, whilst the hound and I trot along. Obviously they would have had a dog with them.

The Vikings made themselves known in the more southern bits of the county but I doubt that they would have passed up a little wander about the northern aspects of Herefordshire. There would have been some rich pickings. The Hereford Hoard, what is left of a collection of gold artefacts (the rest being sold on the illicit historical items market) was found a walk away from where the dog and I wander. Someone buried that collection and I would bet a whole lot of dog treats that they hid it there to keep it away from the Danes. I picture them, hail, hearty and full of welcome with their lovely dog.

The Romans, that fine military establishment, certainly wandered over this bit of the country. They dropped bits of pottery, the odd coin and bangles here abouts. There were burial sites found during the construction of the local (though now vanished) railway lines to the other Herefordian market towns. Unfortunately, archaeology at that time was mostly conjecture and suggestion. There wasn’t much evidence, all of which is now either gone or covered in a fine layer of folklore. Would centurions have wandered this path? Maybe. It is a fine hill to keep an eye on things from. I picture them, trudging through the rich clay mud with their dog.

The neolithic peoples of Britain left their mark here. Iron age settlements dot the local maps. Arthur’s stone, on Dorstone hill, is just out of sight behind a stand of trees. Ivington hill fort is a mile away. Nordy hill hillfort is just behind me, hidden by misty clouds in the distance. I picture a Iron Age man and his daughter wandering past, with their lovely dog, too.

The hound and I stand a while. I’m lost in thoughts of long ago and she is lost in the rich scents carried on the gentle breeze. Her nose is up, her eyes are shut and it is a joy to be here with her. I take a deep breath in of the cool air then I give her a dog treat and we head for home. I wonder who will come after us? How will we fit into the history of this place? Who will walk in our muddy footprints and paw prints when we have finished our walk?