In light of the topic I’ll be taking about this weekend at The Enchanted Market, I think it’s time for a new start to this little blog. Everyday inspirations…
My walk with the pups this morning. Magical misty sunrise.
Let’s try to keep ourselves inspired every day, shall we?
Much love, my friends x
Today, there was a total eclipse in America. Not so over here… but there was certainly something going on in the air.
As the day went on, I grew increasingly tired. Unable to concentrate, having trouble doing much of anything.
This gradually turned into a terrible attack of anxiety and depression, which had been threatening all day. Himself wasn’t immune either.
We resolved to head into the village for a quick ‘hit and run’ (not literally) to the shops, to find something cheering for tea.
Heading outside, the silence was eerie. The light was bright enough at 7.30pm, but strangely yellowish. The air felt thick, cloying and heavy. Nobody else was about.
As we returned up the hill (mission successful), clouds hid both sun and moon. But as we turned towards home, there was a glimmer of sky and some sunbeams. By the time we stepped out of the car, the eclipse would be over – and the air felt amazingly fresh. I could breathe again!
It’s still happening. My head feels lighter, sounds and visuals brighter, thoughts clearer. Something has changed as the world turned.
As I couldn’t take a picture of the eclipse (and as many have asked), here’s a picture of the extremely pink circular vortex of my in-progress knitting (atop a sleeping Fen). Which feels even softer to my touch now, too. Creativity in yarn and in words here, for your consideration.
We bear witness to the movements of the universe, just along for the ride…
Thick fog this morning. Drizzle and greyness. Winter.
I had to push to get work done at first. But as I got on with jobs, they seemed to become easier, more fun.
By afternoon, the fog had lifted. The sun appeared, and the sky brightened into blue. My heart began to lift.
I can still see my breath, but it’s 5pm and still daylight. I don’t need as many layers of clothing.
Then, in our little grove, in the midst of a stand of trees past the badger setts, are the first snowdrops. Just one patch, with the rest not quite there yet – but those white heads are here again. They made it.
Spring is on the way. We can lift our heads and breathe…
Imbolc blessings, my friends.
Today. Temperatures in the minus, Himself on night shifts so I’m not sure what day it is, only that it’s daytime… but things are moving. Restarting life after too long a pause, it feels like. But I have my touchstone of my homeland to keep me grounded.
Every day, without fail, I must walk the dogs. Gearing up to it can feel like a chore, but once we’re outside, their joy buoys me up as we explore what’s changed on the hill since we were last out.
Last night, we had flurries of snow. Today, thick fog. Not cloying, but like a gentle blanket draped across us. Everything is tipped with white from the frost. A spiderweb on a postbox is jewel-like. My neighbour has already placed bread out for the sparrows and blackbirds.
No matter what chaos is going on in the world, my hilltop is my home. Always discovering more about it, feeling with all my senses (including mud up past my ankles on occasion!), and now ready to face the day.
Restarting this blog is the first step in Doing. Moving forward xx
A day of ups and downs. Magic, work and inspiration, as well as sharp bumps and some overwhelm…
I stepped out this evening, into the crisp night air, and felt the wind on my skin. I looked up at the stars, heard the trees whispering. The rain has finally stopped, the clouds gone.
I stand, and breathe. As I tell others to do so often. The simplest of acts – to simply step outside. Remember where you are, feel it, look with all of your senses.
The year is beginning to unfold. I am listening for what is to be heard.
I stand in my power. The peace of the winter night is welcome.
Blue skies this morning – rare in what has been a very wet winter so far. So the pups and I ventured out into the hilltop mists.
Nobody else around. A very boggy park, but safe enough to chase around for Fen and Rags, as the sun burned briefly through the fog that surrounded us. The route to the nearby fields was still impassable, alas; this was our own little space between Civilization and the Otherworld… I look forward to bridging that gap again come Spring.