Glastonbury (Part 1)

The Abbot’s Kitchen, across the street from my B&B.

Next door to the B&B, the Parish of St Mary …

And a statue of Our Lady of Glastonbury above the altar.

Prayers behind me, the Glastonbury Tor before me. Can you say “up”?

Everyday beauty along the way.

The entry gate. Does that look “up” to you?

Right. It does to me, too.

These losers had to stop for a rest. (I was hoping to, but they beat me to the bench!)

Back at it …

Looking back from whence …

Sometimes, when up is really *up*, there are sharp turns involved.

Honestly … almost there.

The ruin of St Michael Church atop Glastonbury Tor.

There are many legends about the Tor. One is that a complete stranger, using my camera, took a candid shot of me praying for my peeps. (Okay, don’t believe the “candid” part; the rest is true.)

East.

West.

The Church of St Michael was destroyed in the Dissolution of Monasteries in 1539; the abbot of Glastonbury Abbey, Richard Whiting, was hung from this tower, drawn and quartered.

Yup. It looks the same in rearview, only the knees have changed.

These gate keepers live here.

This one is an apprentice.

Apprentices allow dogs to pass rather easily.

Next, it was on to the Chalice Well.

The water from the ancient well leaves deposits that color everything red. There are many legends as to why this occurs — the Christian version being that St Joseph of Arimathea washed or buried the Chalice used by Our Lord here.

The Holy Thorn — a descendent of the one that sprang forth when St Joseph of Arimathea planted his staff in Glastonbury.

Don’t ask. The bees were working these do-dads and, I guess I’ve been in Glastonbury too long, they reminded me of the Blair Witch Project.

The ancient well where it is said that St Joseph washed or buried the Chalice.

Glastonbury is pretty pagan these days. Witches, fairies, water sprites, and all manner of widgie-widgie abound. There was even some sort of “worship” going on at this statue of Mary when I first walked by …