“There she is!,” cried the exquisite Cheryl suddenly, heading off into the field, and up a slight rise. Further up the hill, a large flock of sheep began bleating astonishingly loudly and persistently. Following Cheryl, we came to the most beautiful and charming standing stone, our arrival celebrated by the Powys Ovine Choral Society.
Carreg Hir is about five feet tall, wonderfully solid, round, and stout. Greeny-yellow lichens on her northern side were complemented by a large, thick, greasy black mark about her middle; she was obviously much frequented as a scratching post by the members of the choir.
As ever, she commanded stunning views from three points of the compass, but the view behind led to the nearby brow of the hill. What is that all about?
This particular stone felt very soft, welcoming and nurturing. She’s definitely female. There was something of apple-cheeked farmers’ wives about her, or the warmth and stillness of breastfeeding mothers, or even a priestess-like magnetism...