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Signs of Life

Nancy L. Horner

Gertrude's Farmer Saves the Day

One of my husband's favorite places on the planet is a hilltop in the Wiltshire region of England, just outside Swindon. To get to the top of that hill you have to drive up a steep incline on a road so narrow—often bordered by tall hedges—that there's not enough room for two cars to pass each other unless one of them has a lay-by to pull into. When I first saw that road, I had already been holding onto my seat with a white-knuckle grip, occasionally screaming, "Curb!" or just, "Aaaaaaaa!" to my husband for at least 10 minutes as we drove through the streets of Swindon. Judging your position in the left-hand lane is difficult when you're accustomed to the opposite side of the road; and I thought David was judging rather badly.

"Oh, my gosh," I said as I saw the steep incline and the narrow road ahead of us. "That looks just like the road in the nightmare I've been having all my life. You know, the one where I head up the hill and the car can't make it, so I start to roll backwards?"

"You’ll love it," David said.

As we headed up the hill, I could do nothing but periodically squeak when another vehicle headed our way and we were forced to quickly find a lay-by to pull into.

Finally, we reached the top and pulled into a parking lot. A handful of other tiny cars were scattered about and we passed a few people walking bicycles as we began our walk. David led me across a field and then over a fence with steps up one side and down the other, into the midst of dozens of sheep. The sheep were extraordinarily friendly and unfazed by our presence. We hiked through the grazing sheep for a time.

There was a final gate to walk through and then we reached our destination: Barbary Castle. Actually, there's no castle remaining because Barbary Castle was an Iron Age fortification. From the top of a mound that I assumed to be the home of the former keep, I turned around full circle and saw exactly why David considered this spot one of his favorite places in the world. The view is spectacular. In almost every direction, the hill sweeps down to breathtaking green expanse dotted with trees and glowing with the lights of the distant city and the occasional farmhouse. I've never seen anything more beautiful. We didn't stay long, though, because the light was growing dim and the wind was brisk and cold.

The second time we visited the castle, one of David's employees was with us. The sheep were gone and there were no other visitors to the historic site. The month was November and our winter coats, which are meant for our mild Mississippi weather, were inadequate against the sharp, stiff wind. We stood at the top of the keep, shivering, and looked out across the fortification. This time, I could see the shape of the fortification and visualize where the walls once stood at the top of the mounds of soil. Toby was fascinated and took off, walking around the top edge of the mounds.

Unfortunately, the walk around the exterior is immense. As David and I savored the view with our scarves pulled tightly around our necks, we realized the light was once again dimming and we needed to start heading back to the car. We looked off into the distance.

"Where's Toby?" I asked.

David looked across the fortification. "Over there," he said, pointing at the white jeans barely visible in the distance.

"Oh, my gosh. It's going to take him forever to get back here." An entire little village used to live inside these walls, I thought. The word "small" definitely did not apply. Down below us, a lone man walked his dog in the direction of the parking lot.

We started jumping up and down, waving in the hopes that Toby would see us and return a bit faster. No luck, so we simply waited, watching the sky darken and the lights sparkle brighter at the bottom of the hill.

Finally, Toby made it back and we hurried to our rental car. David cranked the heat to warm our frozen fingers and toes as he headed toward the exit. Suddenly, he threw on the brakes. "Shoot!”"

"What? What's wrong?" I asked from the backseat. I leaned around to see what was going on. Up ahead of us, the headlights illuminated a gate. "Oh, I didn't know there was a gate," I said numbly. "Well, can't you just swing it open?"

"There's a chain with a padlock, Nan," David replied. Sure enough, the gate was not just closed, it was solidly locked.

"Huh," Toby said. "Maybe it's not really locked—just wrapped around the gate."

David and Toby climbed out of the car to check.

"No luck?" I asked as they climbed back into the car. I could already tell the answer from the little noises of frustration.

"They're determined not to let anyone in after hours, that's for sure," Toby answered.

"And it's too far to walk to town for help."

"There's got to be someone around who can open it," David said. "I noticed there was a path off to the side of the gate. We could see if that leads to a house, somewhere so we could at least ask."

"Sounds like a plan," Toby agreed.

"You stay here and warm up," David told me. "We'll walk on down that path and check it out."

I nodded then watched as the two men disappeared from the circle of light, down behind dark leaves.

Quite some time later, the men returned and climbed into the car, chuckling. Outside, a wrinkled, gray-haired fellow in work clothing removed the chain and pulled the gate open. He looked, to put it mildly, a bit put out.

"He's pretty peeved," David said, "He said we didn't pay attention to the sign. Made us wait till he finished feeding the geese."

"I didn't see a sign."

"Me either."

We could see the farmer was muttering angrily as we passed by.

"All the geese had names," David told me as he pulled through.

As he told me about Gertrude, who apparently was more interested in heading to the pond than eating her dinner, I looked back toward the entrance. Outside the gate was a tiny sign that said the historic area closed at 4:00 p.m.

"Oh, there is a sign," I said. "It’s really small. We'll have to remember that, the next time we're here."

"Yeah, I think we'd better," David said. "I don't think we can count on Gertrude's friend saving the day twice."