La Hirondelle 34

 

Le Geant de Manio assumes centre stage, within the grove. The trees, with which the menhir stands shoulder to shoulder, dappling the stone respectfully with a cooling shade.

 This is an ancient broad-leaf woodland. Yet, more youthful than the civilisation which erected the stone.

Unseen life rustles and chirps, among the tall grass and crisp leaf litter, beneath the intertwined canopy of branches.

Bright foxgloves nod approvingly, at the chorister-pure bursts of birdsong and the low sigh of the wind. A still tranquility pervades.

Le Geant is set apart from the main ranks of standing stones. Stationed, like a general, atop a hill, above Carnac. The majority of the stones of a human height, if stockier build.

They march across undulating fields, with a military discipline. Their ranks aligned north east to south west. Split into three wards, like a mediaeval army. Stretching three miles or more, from vanguard to rearguard.

Each line of stones is regularly spaced and in single file.

Always with multiple lines abreast. 

Usually of similar heights.

With the occasional sentinel rising above the ranks.

The mysterious man made formations are at one with their natural surroundings. As they advance across the landscape, so deep green ivy embraces them and oaks lend their shade.

Erected for an unknown purpose, by a little understood Neolithic civilisation. Surely, the realisation of this scale of vision, must represent a society wide endeavour? Perhaps a symbol of wealth? A message of power? An act of religious worship?

The menhirs send a message, for certain. Its meaning lost in the millennia. Beyond modern comprehension.