Easter

Easter in our nearest town is hectic; folks on holiday swarm the streets, the Fair, as usual, was well patronised with some beautiful items for sale. The carparks surrounding the churches were full, their doors wide open inviting the public in to help celebrate this holy season.

A book Fair was held, as is the custom each Easter, and the Fishermen's Hall buzzed with excited people gasping as a favourite was spotted in a distant box; some were careful in their selecting even though the over-all price of $1 per book would hardly make a dent in the weekend budget.

Being ardent book-lovers, and buyers of books, this annual Fair adds to the ever mounting collection of books that overflow the several bookcases and cupboards. My Other Half prefers 'Australiana', while I look for favourite authors or pick up, and bring home [$1 a book is always a bargain!], a mixture. Two large bags each are taken to carry our treasures home in. Those who haven't attended a Book Fair before find their arms laden and smiling greet those of us more used to such unprecedented spending with words of congratulation on our foresight, determining to bring a bag next time. One enterprising lady had a shopping bag on wheels ... no doubt her arms were not as sore as mine!

I am continually amazed at what 'other folks' pass in for sale. I found a real treasure, though will admit that My Other Half hasn't shown much enthusiasm for this particular find. "Stonehenge Complete" by Christopher Chippindale [revised edition!] will add to my knowledge of Stonehenge.

For some unknown reason I am fascinated by monoliths; perhaps because neither New Zealand nor Australia have such structures; perhaps because it is almost beyond my comprehension how such structures were erected. I look and I wonder.

Just taking a quick look through the book [as I have with some of my other picks ... familiarising myself with them, and mentally sorting them into some type of order for winter perusal reading] I found a poem, written by Siegfried Sassoon, which epitomises Stonehenge.

What is Stonehenge? It is the roofless past;

Man's ruinous myth; his uninterred adoring

Of the unknown in sunrise cold and red;

His quest of stars that arch his doomed exploring.

And what is Time but shadows that were cast

By these storm-sculptured stones while centuries fled?

The stones remain; their stillness can outlast

The skies of history hurrying overhead.

(Siegfried Sassoon)