>But midwinter would have been a time for reflection, with thoughts of those who have passed on, a marginal time, where the past present and future all marry together.<

Beautifully put ftc. It also occurs to me that if you're in your hut, some four and a half thousand years ago at wintertime, what the hell do you do with yourself all day for three or four months? Can't be much fun. Harvest is in, surplus stock all slaughtered, salted and hung to cure - then what? Stories around the fireside at night? Sounds good, but during the day what the hell do you do with yourself? Well, if it were me and someone came knocking on my willow-woven door one November morning saying, "Oi, Littlestone, fancy going up the road and pulling back those big old sarsens so we can finish the circle in time for summer solstice." I'd be up for it - especially if included stopping off at Old Gran Mog's place for a flagon or two and a slice of hog roast between a fresh baked crust. Sounds friggin good to me. I'd help pull a sarsen or two if there was bacon butty and a flagon of good cheer on offer - better that than an earful from the old woman day in and day out about that Hazelwood fence that still needs fixing.