Bon Temps

Today, at the end of November, there is a warm breeze to blow away the dampness from the wet weather of the past few weeks. As we approach the sun appears from behind a winter's cloud and shines onto the fast flowing, upsurging waters, and black dog appears - as if from nowhere - to share our sense of well being.

Leaving the crossroads we approach the surging waters, which span four feet or more as it is forced vertically upwards through the earthen well shaft, to emerge like a solid pillar of bubbling, frothing water. The top of the 'spout' is more than three hands' breadths above the surface of the well's stonework top. The roaring current falls from here over the rim of the the well shaft to give the impression of a giant's overflowing cup. The river thus formed widens to eight or ten feet.

Our canine companion plays - trying to catch the foam, dancing through the water with boundless joy. He persuades us to stay and play, bringing us a stick to throw - for him to fetch, dancing in the living water.

As we drive away he stares after us sorrowfully, and we all know that we have shared a truly magical time.

***

Some years later we visited the Resurgence once more, this time in search of the dolmen nearby. With our map in hand we began to walk the pilgrim's Way. However, we had no need of the map since, just as before, the Guardian black dog appeared to greet us, eager to show us the way, to the stones.

On a hot summer's day the circular stone wall is dry, giving no hint of the force which it may contain at other times. Peering down into the darkness of the deep shaft, a distant reflection is all that there is to confirm the presence of the water so far below the ground.

But return again when slender fingers of sunlight draw back the rainclouds.

Perhaps the black dog, the guardian of this place, may come to greet you. To dance with joy as the river escapes for a short while to the world above.

For, when the earth can no longer contain the force of the water it rises, triumphant, to surge and foam above the ground for a while. The stone wall of the well becomes an overflowing cauldron - seething and bubbling - as the water rises up above the stonework before cascading down once more.

As we muse on the magic of this place the black dog dances once more with the water, and the foam.

As we turn to leave he stands at the crossroads, watching us with sadness in his eyes. We promise to return again when the water flows, to share his delight.