The Voices have told me this is how it went down.
“Ok, you lot, here’s my idea. Trees! It’s the coming thing.
Hey, We’re neolithic guys, right? That’s new or late stone age to the neanderthal and Picts among you?
And we’re trying out this new thing called ‘farming’. I don’t know about you, but if I’m gonna live in one place and grow things to eat I gotta bust my buns from daybreak to setting sun. I got no time to be dragging those bloody great stones fifty miles so I can make it with some henge-poopsie once or twice a year at the solstice.
Right! So here’s the deal. No more bloody blue stones. We’re gonna use tree trunks and take the rest of the year off from henge building-—and the gods and priests can like it or lump it.
The stone age gave way to the wood age. ;’)