Well I would have been a stonemason if I’d been born a hundred years ago.
Several of my ancestors worked in stone and what work those old masons used to produce. Here is a selection I took from around my village on Friday, as the Winter bike having had a new chain fitted, along with new brake blocks all round (occasioning really filthy hands), has done the usual trick of complaining that it would rather like a few new chain wheels as I changed the chain too late and the chain now jumps at those tricky moments like when straining against the pedals uphill. Anyway, to resume. Here is a simple ball:
From a mighty ball to really delicate vernacular grave stone style:
What artefact could be more beautiful?
Almost makes me want a headstone myself, but I suppose Amazon would charge very highly for delivery. I’ll make do with an oak sapling.
Now here’s one of the older properties in Farnhill:
It has been altered over the years and would have originally had windows all the same as the upstairs ones with stone mullions. Pure vernacular. I was over the wrong-side of the canal so I couldn’t get close enough in to see what has happened to the date on the door lintel, but here’s a blow up:
Looks like the date in the lower centre panel has been removed. Why? A mystery. Maybe it’s 1716, must get a closer look.
I have been doing a little woodwork between felling, tushing and trudging about in the snow. Mended the horse, attempted three threaded rods for another screw clamp, but found what I thought was cherry was alder (wildly weak and unsuitable.) Made a brace of hurdles. The odd badger, preparing for a memory box and a set of these big boys:
Cheese boards for a country wedding. It’s spalted beech from a tree that has been left in log for three years. There is just about enough nature left in it to get away with. Looks pretty eh? Thanks Nature.
Ah well, blue skies returned last week and are still here, feels a bit Spring-like, but there will doubtless be a Wintery sting in the tail to endure yet – remember Candlemas was sunny too. Here it is bursting through over Silsden and Barden Moors:
And here it is over my felling site: