Cold winter brings the Everfrost and jewels every tree In a forest new as birth and old as old can be A flame~haired dreamer wanders there and shelters from the wind And spins her dreams around the trees to break the ties that bind She takes her thread and spins anew and how the Greenwood smiles As she spins a spell for freedom and for her spirit Wylde
The dreamer finds an ancient oak and shelters in his lee In a forest new as birth and old as old can be Tis summer now and birdsong weaves its magick through her spells And humming bees drum drowsily in the foxglove's bells The dreamer sits beneath the oak with yarn upon her knee And spins and knits and weaves her dreams and sets her spirit free
"When birds fall from the sky and the animals are dying, a new tribe of people...shall come unto the earth from many colors, classes, creeds, who by their actions and deeds shall make the earth green again. they will be known as the warriors of the Rainbow"
I prefer winter and fall...
when you feel the bone structure of the landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show. andrew wyeth
merry meet )o( Remember my post mentioning berries? this picture (click on it for a closer view) is of a large, unidentified bush in the private lane our cottage backs onto, taken from our back door~our neighbour has told swampy that he has never seen so many berries on this particular bush. I am now seriously considering making sure the larder is well stocked~just in case.
because we live in the middle of a collection of valleys if the roads become snowed over or icy it is all but impossible to get in or out~ last year a chap made it over 'top road' in his 4x4, telling swampy he virtually slid all the way down into the village. around the same time swampy and i were in salisbury when it started to snow, so we decided we had better start off home. We reached the bottom of Bulbarrow Hill, where the snow was probably only an inch deep, but it took us over an hour to navigate lanes that usually take about 15 minutes~the whole way up we had to drive on the grass for traction~going down the other side is something i never want to do again,it was a case of 'the car has a mind of its own...hold on and hope for the best'
however finding ourselves snowed in~to walk up the lane in falling snow and to see nothing but fields covered in snow and the odd chimney with wood smoke coming from it and to hear no sounds of mankind and then to come home to a good supply of wood, a nice, toasty rayburn and a blazing fire is something special
All things share the same breath~the beast, the tree, the man, the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.
1890-17 september 1918~France
~a community of persons with artistic or literary tastes who adopt manners and mores conspicuously different from those expected or approved by the majority of society~
''The beauty of the trees,the softness of the air,the fragrance of the grass,speaks to me. The summit of the mountain,the thunder of the sky,the rhythm of the sea,speaks to me.The strength of the fire,the taste of salmon,the trail of the sun,and the life that never goes away,they speak to me. And my heart soars."