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.