Pythius wants to chat:
Helen has gone out. I am left alone in the cottage. She says I am in charge, but actually it’s those pesky cats Harvey Sweetie-Pie (ginger mog) and Buster a crazy mixed up Burmese, who are really in charge.
As they have taken over the best chairs in the main room, I have decided to sneak upstairs and chat about poetry.
|The pesky cats relaxing|
|Pythius tries to read the plaque|
The poem is all gobbledegook to me. After all, anyone standing on the top of Castle Hill can see how beautiful the surrounding countryside is, why should anyone need a poem to tell them more?
That said, Helen and Auntie Liz seem to enjoy reading the poem. If they are happy, I guess I am happy.
|The Poem Tree|
This 250 acre nature reserve is managed by Northmoor Trust and is designated a Site of Special Scientific Interest. Information maps, which detail the wild life that inhabit the area, can be found at the entrance by the car park.
The poem tree died several years ago and all the words that were carved on its trunk by Joseph Tub of Warborough in 1844/5 are now twisted and rotting. They are certainly very difficult to read.
However, thanks to Dr Henry Osmaston, who took an accurate tracing of the poem in 1965 when the tree was still alive and the words were more legible, visitors are able to still read the poem which describes the scene laid out before them.
The plaque commemorates the poem’s 150th anniversary.: