Oh, Boab/Dylan, thank you so much for asking that question today. Right now I have just come in from a very difficult morning and right at this minute I need, more than ever, to 'transport' myself, in my mind's eye to my special place. My life at the moment is one of giving, giving, giving out of time and energy to a couple of people close to me who, because of the state of mind they are in, are incapable of acknowledging what I am doing for them. A thankless but very necessary task in which I feel all alone, most of the time, and as I was driving home I was just wishing for someone to do some little thing for me, just for me. Then along comes your thread to remind me that even in times when it seems as though everyone around is taking from you, and you are the one doing all the giving, there is something which is always giving and waiting for you to gratefully appreciate and receive it, and that is the beauty of the natural world and landscape and the very special places within it.

My special place is even called just that: "Stow", which is the Old English word for "place" - it is West Stow, a reconstructed Anglo-Saxon village just outside Bury St. Edmunds in Suffolk, UK. You can see what it looks like here: West Stow It is a group of wooden houses re-built on their original site which was occupied by Anglo-Saxon settlers from around 450 to 650 AD. These folk certainly knew how to pick a special place ! Everyone I know who goes there remarks on its peaceful, happy atmosphere. You feel yourself being wrapped in a warm hug, layer upon layer. Unlike some ancient sites, the feeling at West Stow is that the people who lived there saw joyful times and there is such a strong welcoming presence, you sense it calling all down the centuries like a kinship.

It is on a slightly raised piece of land, leading down to a river, with views across to fields and woodland. The living history group I belong to are fortunate enough to live in the houses, several times through the year, sleeping, cooking, working there as Anglo-Saxons, for visitors to see how the inhabitants lived. Sleeping in those houses is nothing short of magical. It is pitch black at night, making the moon and stars so much brighter. A night of creaking wood, rustling leaves, scuffling creatures, then as the sun begins to come up, thin streaks of light come darting in through the slats and you just lie there as this wonderful beamed, thatched building comes to life before your very eyes and a new day starts. Everywhere you go is the glorious scent of woodsmoke, which seems to stay in your hair and pervade all around you for weeks afterwards, catching you unawares from time to time, to remind you. In the evening, when the visitors have gone, there is nothing better than taking a bench and sitting outside, watching the sun moving across the trees. There is one space of time, only for a few minutes each evening, when one of the trees in the distance glows totally red, you blink, and it has disappeared. Then there are the evenings around the fire in the hall - the laughing, the talking, the drinking, the singing, making shadow puppets on the wall, people just being people together - now, just as one and half thousand years ago.

Living there, it takes no time at all for everyone and everything to slow right down, and for this to become your world, just as it was the world for the 5th century inhabitants of Stow. There is no place I have ever been where I have felt so 'right', so content to just be. One of our group has used this special character of Stow in her successful fight against cancer: She was taught a visualization technique, where she was to take herself to a special, peaceful place, where she could feel protected and safe to combat the cancer. She placed herself on top of the hill, shooting arrows down at the cancer. She is now in full recovery - and is a superb archer !

Thank you again, Boab, for starting this thread. I will just love reading everyone's contributions.

Wes ðu hal !
- jeanie