Outdoor Spirituality in Norfolk and further afield
The Rising of the Sun and the Running of the Deer…
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It’s great to get outside on a winters day, to stretch the legs and walk off the turkey. 21st December is the shortest day. From then on the days will begin to lengthen and the singing of the birds surpass organ music and singing in the choir!
If you want a winter walk that with the sight of deer, head for Holkham. I you leave the car park in front of the Hall and head right around the lake and you will be on the Holkham Lake Path -leaflets are available at Holkham or on-line at www.holkham.co.uk/html/park_03.html. I can guarantee skeins of pink footed geese flying overhead and herds of deer sheltering beneath the trees. The deer are quite used to people, are tame and are very photogenic.
Following the path round the lake and into the woods you’ll soon come to the Holkham church. Heavily restored, it’s only the dedication, the site its self and west wall that give clues to its ancient foundation. Perched on a hillock, it is dedicated to St. Withbura, the 7th century royal princess-turned-nun who was the first abbess of Dereham. The west wall shows signs of being as old as any church building in Suffolk and Norfolk. Famously Withburga and her sisters were supplied with milk from a doe deer that came everyday to be milked!
I’m not sure if the church can offer visitors and pilgrims merry music or sweet singing save for that of the birds. Last time I passed that way the door was locked – conveniently they appeared to have locked God out. In the stillness and beauty of a place where prayer has been valid I thought I caught a glimpse! Rather, like the fleeting vision of a deer passing silently through a glade!There is certainly a holly tree in the churchyard but you would be hard pressed to find any ivy. Holkham’s foresters have a hatred of it and wouldn’t let it choke any of their beautiful trees.
I have not posted much of late. I have been struggling. Between completing the pioneering work on a possible Withburga Way between Holkham and Dereham in the summer of 2022 and today my health has gone downhill in alarming way. I'll never walk the route in a couple of days, nor yet in 3. I'll never walk it. The rapid onset Pulmonary Fibrosis has left me struggling for breath putting my boots on let alone walking. Yesterday, I went to St. Benet's Abbey , ate my picnic lunch in the car park and set myself the challenge of walking from the car park to the Abbey ruins. It is 0.35 miles and uphill all the way from from the Gate House to the old rugged cross that marks the site of the high altar at the summit. The hill looked quite daunting - "Who can ascend the hill of the Lord?" I sang under by breath. Stopping often to catch my breath, slowly one foot in front of the other, I got closer to the summit. There before the cross, wind in my hair, it felt as if the b
I’d come to North Elmham pursuing a mystery. Did the Bishops of Elmham from Bedwinus in the 7th century to Herfast in the 11th have their cathedral in Norfolk or Suffolk? North or South Elmham? I’d followed a circular walk I’d found in the Norfolk Health Heritage and Conservations Walks leaflet (You can get hold of one from Norfolk County Council or on-line at www.countrysideaccess.norfolk.gov.uk .) It took me through parkland, along quiet lanes and ended up at the parish church (Well worth a visit in its own right!) My final destination was indicated by a brown tourist sign. Uncompromisingly it asserts “Saxon Cathedral”! But when you get to the ruins and read English Heritage’s helpful interpretation boards there’s no certainty at all. What you see are earthworks and ruins of a castle built by Henry Despencer, the fighting Bishop of Norwich. He was famous for putting down the Peasants’ Revolt in 1381. A man not without enemies, Henry had obviously felt the need of
Beneath a winter sky the sun sinks slowly in the west . Wrapped against the cold - and rapt by the beauty - I pondered on the generations before me who had stood and watched as day turned to night. Millions of sunsets and millions upon millions of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve . I found myself signing with the Psalmist: You appointed the moon to mark the seasons and the sun knows the time of its setting, You make darkness that it may be night in which the beasts of the forest creep forth (Psalm 104) Across the darkening marsh the whistles and murmuring of widgeon quietened, a thin mist rose and deer emerge from the woodland to graze beneath a reddening sky. All this was but the overture to the evening’s main event. I had come to see a wild life spectacular which is repeated every night during the winter period and the station platform was the grandstand from which to view it. From far and wide streamed “ in a countless host” each as black a clergyman’s cassock and eac
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