On iron, wood and glass;
Show all your pains to silver-gild
Each little blade of grass
First verse of WH Davies' poem 'Silver Hours'
Nature is flourishing in the nooks and crannies around the old part of Swindon. The aim of this blog is to illustrate a different Swindon where the 'magic roundabout' plays no part. An enchanting Swindon that can only be discovered on foot. A place of underground springs and streams, ancient hedgerows, footpaths, copses, lakes, and beautiful parkland. If you look a little more closely you will see Swindon is built on sacred ground.