imaginary gardens

By Seven Firs and Goldenstone they went, to Stormy Point and Saddlebole.

Let’s start, rather, at the farmhouse: for who would invite in the unwelcome?

From the farmhouse to the lane where hikers watch they went, and from the lane where hikers watch to the wood where arrows fly and the axe falls silent, and from the wood where arrows fly and the axe falls silent to a glimpse of a distant rider.

Across streams lined with alder and willow, rushes and reeds they went, to the hidden isle where gifts given in dreams outlast the dawn, and from the hidden isle where gifts given in dreams outlast the dawn across the lake’s ice floes at they went, and riding like the wind, on past peat stacks and hills, and into the valley where foxes play in the snow.

And there they wait.

From the valley where foxes play in the snow they went, straggling across open moor to the summit's flat ridge and then down, down through a murder of crows, down, down to a gritstone pillar in a stand of beech trees.

Away to the South a black cloud rolled.

Watch: Alan Garner on the Legend of Alderley

Read: Chris Catling on Magic & Mining: the Alderley Edge Landscape Project (PDF)