Wiltshire

Our Survey of English Architecture under the guidance of architectural historian Jeremy Melvin began today with a trip to Salisbury and its neighbor to the north Stonehenge. The coach ride was about two-and-a-half hours from our school in the heart of London, which provided time read up on the sites and catch a little sleep.

The five thousand year old earthwork was our first stop. We spent some time exploring the oldest and most subtle features of the site, including a cursus, which looks like nothing more than a long shallow groove and ridge running through the sheep pastures. Stepping carefully we made our way to pair of barrows. The sunshine made the place merry enough, but a Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadildo! or two drifted through my thoughts nonetheless.

Back across the road, we started our slow orbit of the stones themselves, sketching as we went. We were there over the lunch hour, and it seemed to me that the flow of tourists lightened briefly. I was surprised by how many of the elderly visitors were natives of the island. I would have figured that in sixty years of life in Britain, a trip to Stonehenge would have been inevitable, but perhaps the place draws repeat visitors. I certainly wouldn't mind returning, perhaps in some colder weather, when the place might be further vacated.

Our second destination was the much newer Salisbury Cathedral, which, at a mere eight hundred years of age is practically contemporary. The Gothic architecture somehow seemed perfectly at home in the comparatively squat town, and I appreciated the perfection of so many complicated intersections of form and geometry in the ornament that covered every surface save the floor. I wish I could attend a Sunday service or two. Whatever I saw in my too-short stay today would be a drop in the bucket compared to the observations I would make if I was trapped in a pew for the better part of a morning. That would teach me something.