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"
merry meet from in front of a roaring fire. it is very, very cold in our valley, the sky a very pale grey.
very early this morning i was looking out of our kitchen window at the moon setting...it was huge and the bare branches of the trees stood out beautifully stark in the moon bright. then walking back to the bedroom i was faced with an amazing dawn, a single dark rose cloud draping the sky, surrounded by gold and pink. after have a couple of weeks feeling so disconnected it felt as if i was being brought back to my myself.
things are looking considerably barren, most of the trees around us have now lost their leaves, just a few die hard beech leaves hanging on and brightening the bare ,brown trees and barren fields with a final blaze of copper.
i have not posted for a few days as i had to do a lot of reading for my studies. the reading has been done and tomorrow i have set aside time to sort out notes ready to draft out my assaignment. but today i am just going to enjoy the fire and read, well re-read the first of my ''Boudica' books.
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."