…come dance with me. Come with me to the greenwood grove such magic there to see. The Lord of the Wild with her faerie kin. Deep within the greenwood grove we’ll dance the magic ring.’ The Greenwood Grove, Damh the Bard.

Some days we don’t acheive much around here. Just keeping on, waiting to hear back from the wave of job applications I handed in yesterday. The sky is flat and white, an un-colour that is far more miserable than rain, it’s neither cold nor warm and I’m just drifting. Trying to keep things together. I’ve been thinking about making a big appliqued wall-hanging for a while, and today I started. I’m making a leaf for each tree in the celtic ogham, with the rune embroidered on it. Sitting on the floor with a cup of blackcurrant tea (my new favourite. It tastes of being at college, I overindulged in it during revision as a big IB and couldn’t face it again until recently) listening to Damh the Bard sing the cycle of the trees and thier meanings, sewing each one with care and dreaming of a big embroidered picture with mushrooms and flowers on the forest floor, and monsters in the hollows of the tree. I have the first five; Birch, Rowan, Alder, Willow and Ash. Five down, fifteen to go.


That’s all I managed today. That and hanging around the Oxfam bookshop, lusting after the illustrations in beautiful antique children’s books I can’t afford. I have so many ideas pinging around my head, my fingers can’t keep up and days like today I’m just grateful I haven’t done anything actively self-destructive.

… and I baked a rather handsome loaf of bread, half white, half kamut flour. It’s the small things.