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Webster's Notes
October 31,
1999
...... or is it the Norn's notes?
This site is
a tatterdemalion affair, a grab bag of interesting bits and pieces, and
that is the way it is going to stay - I am happy if this place seems
to
resemble a crazy quilt rather than anything else. If there is a theme
or
a common thread underpinning the "stuff" here, it is the stories, the
tales,
the poetry, the music and the dreams which keep dancing up out of our
human
grey matter and revealing us for who we are and what we are, often when
we least expect it. There is much here about things
magical,
mysterious and downright curious, for the cosmos is certainly all of
these
things.
December
19, 2000
It has been several months since I made any
changes or
additions to this site, and after much thought, I am finally doing
something.
Over the last year I was reluctant to tinker with this place for
a number of reasons; first and foremost, I rather liked the way it had
originally been set up and was loath to change it; second, I wasn't
sure
that I had anything either wise or original to say and wondered whether
there was any point in having a web site at all. Third, the whole
exercise smacked of self indulgence. Then too, there was the
creative
tug-of-war and the frustration which result whenever one tries to find
words to describe that which is intangible, ineffable, mysterious, and
essentially indescribable.
This season
always makes me feel a bit
insular, but this
year I have a compelling desire to find a cave somewhere and hibernate
like a bear, something I am trying to fend off with books, music,
candles,
incense and web surfing. The site now has a page of wise words,
and
the new guest book is up and working, but there are very few guests
signing
in here because I haven't told the world that this place exists.
Do I really want to announce it or should I remain silent? There
is much to be said for the latter.
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April
13, 2001
During the last day or two, I've been
reading through
the materials here, and am astonished to discover that I am finding a
"voice"
after all, that this place is not quite the patchwork effort which I
thought
it was in the beginning. There are common denominators of a
sort here, and the site does hang together in a peculiar fashion.
Wonders
never cease....
November
21, 2001
Fall arrived with its colors and its
characteristic fragrance,
stayed for a few weeks and has now drifted away, borne on the brisk
winds
and scudding clouds of late autumn. These November days are icy
and
short. The city and the countryside are carpeted in fallen leaves
and windblown twigs, revealing everything which has been cloaked in
green
and hidden from our view since April. The city has already
drained Dow's Lake, the Rideau Canal, Brown's Inlet and the many ponds
which dot our interior green spaces. For several days the
remaining
shallow pools were full of migrating herons, mallards, scaup,
cormorants,
loons and the usual cluster of confused young seagulls (who wondered
where
all the water had gone). This season of the Crone has such a poignant
quality,
the leafless skeletal trees against the sky, the calling of the Canada
geese as they fly overhead on their way south, the last songs of
the departing loons. In November this northern place becomes a
grey
scale study and resembles at various times a illustration by Edward
Gorey,
a subdued pastel by Lucien Levy-Dhurmer or an oil by Lawren
Harris.
The city and my few hundred acres of woodland in Lanark County
will
seem quiet and subdued until the Wheel turns again and light and warmth
return to this northern place, but strange as it may seem, this is one
of my favourite times of the year.
March
19, 2002
Rumours of spring
abound, and winter
seems to be on its way out. Officially, Spring will arrive
tomorrow,
but the real appearance of the season here in the northern part of the
continent is still several weeks away. The days are becoming
longer,
and the first horned larks and ducks have already returned to the area.
The black bears in the area are awakening, and the timber wolves are on
the prowl. In Lanark County where I spend most of my spare time,
the sugar birds (saw whet owls) are singing, and local maple syrup
producers
are toiling over their evaporators and performing their own exquisite
kind
of alchemy - that of turning maple sap into maple syrup, maple sugar
and
a number of other sweet delights. On weekend rambles, one can
hear
forest streams gurgling beneath the snow and hear wild turkeys calling
from their clearings in the woods. Wherever I am in Lanark,
and whatever I am doing - whether it is filling bird feeders or
carrying
firewood, I watch the skies for the return of the Canada geese and
loons,
and I listen for spring songs of the rose breasted grosbeaks
and
bluebirds. When the birds return, I shall know that Spring has
arrived.
May
21, 2002
The snow has
departed, and Victoria
Day has come and gone. Normally the garden would have been been
in
by now, and there would be pots of bright red geraniums and balsam
impatience
blooming in big terracotta pots on the front steps, but it is still
cold
here and one hears rumours of lethal frost every day. I will wait
a few more days before thinking about planting spring flowers.
How
I long to have morning coffee on the sun deck and spend time in my herb
garden early in the day! I have hung a wreath of green oak
leaves,
acorns and brocade ribbon on the front door and am hoping that this
small
gesture will lure sunny days and warm nights to this northern place.
July
17, 2002
How swiftly time
flies. It
seems like only yesterday that I pottered about in my garden and
worried
about the fact that my flowers, vegetables and herbs were progressing
slowly
this year because of a late spring, cool weather and overcast
days.
Now Litha has come and gone, and as usual at this time of year, it is
hot,
humid and sunny here in the north. Our trees and gardens have
exploded
into exuberant growth. Lush, shaggy and green, everything in
sight
seems to be festooned with small hard green fruit, field berries and
the
first nuts of the season - how I love the fragrance of the
walnut,
oak and elder trees at this time of year!
In
Lanark County,
the first cut
of hay has already been taken and the harvest was excellent this year -
our fields are full of huge round bales waiting to be brought in and
stored
carefully in the old log hay barns for the long nights time.
Occasionally
these bright summer days are punctuated by thunder storms and heavy
rains,
and we do not complain: weary of heat and humidity, we wait for the
brief
spell of cool air and fresh breezes which always follows these sudden
summer
storms. In the next few days, I shall begin making a new wreath for
Lammas
(August 1), and start my preparations for the ritual and feasting which
always mark this golden cross quarter day. Lammas greetings to
all
who come here!
October
22, 2002
It is difficult to
believe that
summer is over and that the long nights time is beginning - our
northern
summer seemed so very brief this year. The days are growing shorter,
cold
nights, sharp winds and a hint of spice in the air. My cotton
skirts
and shirts have all been packed away for another year, and my winter
woollies
are already in use. This is wonderful weather for long brisk
walks,
and I take one every day, collar turned up and gloved hands tucked in
the
pockets of my jacket - there is usually an apple in one pocket, a
handful
of found acorns in the other pocket along with a few dog biscuits (for
canine friends met in my travels), and there is always a pot of
strong Irish tea waiting for me at home. Greetings again, for Samhain
and
the Celtic New Year this time!
January
10, 2003
Samhain and Yule have
both come
and gone, and we are now in the depths of an icy northern winter. It is
bitterly cold here, and I find myself thinking longingly of spring and
my garden. Until that time comes, I shall have to be content with
gardening catalogues and my memories - fortunately there are plenty of
both to occupy my time.
March
7, 2003
Ostara is not far off
now, but
we remain in the grip of winter, high snow and sub zero
temperatures.
How I long for Spring, for warmth and sunlight and birds singing in the
garden.
June
8, 2003
Summer is here at
last. The
countryside is a riot of colour, and my woodland in Lanark resembles a
lush Pacific rain forest, all dense shadowed greenery, sun dappled
clearings,
mossy stones and deep silent forest pools. There are freckled
fawns
grazing in the quiet wooded hollows and grouse drumming from every
second
or third fallen log in the woods. There are young turkeys
browsing
beneath the tall old trees for last year's acorns and hickory nuts, and
there is a family of madcap little red foxes frolicking on the
hillside.
How wonderful this green and golden season is, and how very brief.
September
30, 2003
Where did our
glorious summer go?
The days are growing shorter, and the nights are becoming longer.
Our loons have departed for southern climes, and the maple trees
of
the Lanark Highlands are beginning to turn. There is a fall nip
in
the air at sunset these days, and on my evening rambles I must turn the
frayed collar of my old corduroy jacket up against the bitter
wind.
The winter stars are beginning to appear, and it will not be long until
the the mighty hunter (Orion) rules the night once more. Now and
then there are echoes of the Wild Hunt in the fiery evening
skies.
How beautiful are these glowing autumn moons.
May
10, 2004
Spring is here in the north now, and how
good it is to
feel the sun on one's face, to feel the May breezes. In keeping
with
the season, there are gardening catalogues all over the house, although
the time of sowing and planting is still a few weeks off, and we will
worry
about frost until early June.
The last several
months have been a
harrowing time, serious
illness of my own, the illness and passing of close friends and
companions,
a warring darkness on Gaia Herself. Let there be sunlight, warmth,
balance
and healing now - let there be peace and renewal for all.
To those who
visited
this place and left
me kind messages
during the last several months, a heartfelt thank you, and I so wish I
had been strong enough to write back to you. Please accept my
apologies,
and rest assured that your messages were both read and treasured.
However late, there will certainly be replies, for I archived each and
every exquisite message.
July
18, 2005
Summer, glorious summer! It is far too hot and humid here in the
north to be spending much time outside during the day, but early in the
morning I can usually be found in my garden attired in caftan, sandals
and floppy hat. As I potter contentedly about with my mug of
jasmine tea, the songbirds are performing a canto to the rising sun,
and the Tibetan bells which hang from the eaves at the back of the
house add their own haunting refrain.
In the Lanark
Highlands, the first
fragrant hay has been cut, winnowed and baled. There are fields
of golden barley and ripening corn everywhere. At first light,
proud mothers bring their freckled fawns to feed in the long shadows
cast by the hedgerows along the chambered fields. A golden time
to be sure,
and a clear signal that Lugnasadh is not far off.
November 7, 2005
Summer has come and gone for another year, autumn is over and winter
approaches. When this year draws to a close, I shall be a free
agent again as my desktop publishing position is being eliminated by
the firm which employes me. Do I go hunting for another slot? No,
I don't think so............. It is time for me to do what I have been
planning to do for years, have a hard look at this old life of mine,
eliminate some clutter, redefine my priorities and begin to forge a new
career as a freelance graphic designer.
July 9, 2006
Can it be summer already, and where
has the last year gone? This weekend I looked around as we were
driving out to the Lanark Highlands and realized that the bales of hay
I was seeing everywhere were those of the season's second cut.
The corn is so high that one can no longer see the fences and the
hedgerows, and it will only be a week or two before the barley is read
for cutting - usually around the date of Lugnasadh (August 2).
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