Musings of the Night

I saw thee once- once only- years ago:
I must not say how many- but not

It was a July midnight; and from out
A full-orbed moon, that like thine own

Sought a precipitate pathway up through

There fell a silvery silken veil of light,
With quietude, and sultriness and

Upon the upturn’d faces of a thousand
Roses that grew in an enchanted garden,
Where no wind dared to stir, unless on

Fell on the upturn’d faces of these

That gave out, in return for the love-

Their odorous souls in an ecstatic

Fell on the upturned faces of these

That smiled and died in this parterre,

by thee, and by the poetry of thy

Read the rest of this entry »

Sometimes it seems working about the house is very liberating. Perhaps it is the drudgery of housework I have no idea, but in the midst of it all, I sat down and started writing. I think I could have written all night had I been alone, the words seemingly unstoppable. I am always amazed how they can suddenly pour from me out of nowhere. I was drifting with my heart and my heart was full of words and thoughts that needed to go somewhere.

Today, I cannot tell. It is too early to say but I do feel a certain tingle inside of me, one that comes when the words start to push their way out. It is a glorious day shaping up and it may be a good day to take the journal to the lake.

Currently I am experimenting with a new blog so if you see posts coming and going you are not going mad. The new theme is quite lovely but it does not support any widgets. Hence there is no way to add a blogroll that is viewable or any other widget. I am at a crossroads with it all right now as the theme is so visually appealing. We shall see.

I have no happiness in dreaming of Brycelinde,
Nor Avalon the grass-green hollow, nor Joyous Isle,
Where one found Lancelot crazed and hid him for a while;
Nor Uladh, when Naoise had thrown a sail upon the wind;
Nor lands that seem too dim to be burdens on the heart:
Land-under-Wave, where out of the moon’s light and the sun’s
Seven old sisters wind the threads of the long-lived ones,
Land-of-the-Tower, where Aengus has thrown the gates apart,
And Wood-of-Wonders, where one kills an ox at dawn,
To find it when night falls laid on a golden bier.
Therein are many queens like Branwen and Guinevere;
And Niamh and Laban and Fand, who could change to an otter or fawn,
And the wood-woman, whose lover was changed to a blue-eyed hawk;
And whether I go in my dreams by woodland, or dun, or shore,
Or on the unpeopled waves with kings to pull at the oar,
I hear the harp-string praise them, or hear their mournful talk.
Because of something told under the famished horn
Of the hunter’s moon, that hung between the night and the day,
To dream of women whose beauty was folded in dis may,
Even in an old story, is a burden not to be borne.

William Butler Yeats

The day is lovely, cool and sunny, the rain finally over, at least for now.  I look out on the “woods” that back up to my home and wonder at it all. What was a moonlit silhouette of the trees of winter is filling with the small leaves of spring. Soon it will  be enclosed in green, only the path leading to the center of this little forest, seen from the windows. On this path bloom the ferns and the wild violets of summer and it is filled with the songs of the birds by day and the mystical sounds of life that moves in the night.  At times this place seems to whisper my name  and I wonder if I was not meant to find myself here by my “woods,” my secret path through the meadow and my lake.

The last day has found me in a place I haven’t been for some time, my connections with things so strong I’m finding it almost overwhelming and difficult to find words.  Last night was spent going from draft to draft, editing and deleting, finally resigning myself to the fact that I could not describe what I was feeling.  Perhaps it is the dark moon approaching working it’s magic on me once again.  Whatever the cause I am relishing this place and feel a strong pull to learn more about all things mystical.  My life has been so consumed by the worries of everyday life that I think I lost my way for a time.  It is as if I have been giving back the air that I breathe. I think I will go walk in that air and let it wash over me.

Last night I had intended to spend my night under the stars. It was a beautiful day and an even more beautiful evening. As we all know, the best laid plans often go awry. My son and I had spent some time outside after which I was very tired, something that has been plaguing me of late. He worked with his tadpoles while I watched a bit of TV while cleaning candle wicks. After that I could tell he was tired so we sat down to a movie.

The movie, Enchanted, was delightful but during one of the songs we heard a crash and ran downstairs only to find the mouse cage in several pieces on the floor. Fortunately the mouse had the wits about her not to exit her little hut. The cats, unsuccessful in their plot wandered away, and we cleaned and reassembled the cage.  After vacuuming the floor we went back to the movie, mouse in tow.  At the end of it my son, who was planning to join me under the stars was exhausted, so I held off until I knew he would be asleep. Of course, I fell asleep as well and that was the extent of any May Day eve activities.

Still the day was not lost in it’s beauty and serenades of twilight are always mystical. Today is again beautiful, though somewhat cooler.  It is sun and clouds now, one of those pre-rain days where you can hear the birds so clearly and every sound of nature seems amplified while you wait for the rain to begin. I think I will just sit outside a bit today before I go off to work. Surely the appreciation of the day and all it brings is what it’s really all about.

Since last night I’ve been busy posting this and that, pictures and music. It seems I can’t write at the moment, the energy of the moment taking over in other ways. Today blogging has been an excuse not to do the things that need doing and I’ve welcomed that excuse. In all fairness I’ve been airing the rooms, doing laundry and vacuuming, certainly something. Now my next task is fixing my candles as I hope to enjoy Beltane eve out on my deck. The way the wind is whipping through the windows makes me wonder if we might not end up in the house.

We now have a large spider in a tank along with the two tanks of frog spawn rapidly turning to tiny tadpoles. I could do without the spider as it is too large for my comfort zone. It does make me think back to the first time I sat with my candles and a large spider was let loose to run free outside, but that’s another story.

I’ve since left this post and returned and now the day is turning to evening and there are things I have to do before the night falls. My Cardinal was here greeting me today as well as the many crows who gather in my “woods.: They are waiting with me for the twilight and what may come on this eve of May.

Night of the Fairy Goddess… Edward Hughes

declan_masterson_fairy_child

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

Yeats

karan_casey_the_song_of_wandering_aengus

Whither doest thou wander Spirit…

Over hill, over dale, thorough bush,
thorough brier, over park, over pale, thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere, swifter than the moon’s sphere; and I serve the fairy queen, to dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be:in their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, in those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dewdrops here and hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear. Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I’ll be gone Our queen and all our elves come here anon.

William Shakespeare

Some of my best ideas come to me in the wee hours of the morning. It seems the lack of sleep from working nights is very liberating and often the words just start flowing. Unfortunately with that liberating fatigue comes the mistakes that often accompany the writing. One of these days I will learn to save and go back after a good sleep, proofing what I thought was well done at the time. As I sip my first cup of coffee and proof my last post I am pink with embarrassment.

The day is gray and cool but things are slowly improving from the weekend. Sun and warmth are due here by mid week though the rains comes shortly after to once again halt my plans to walk to work. I must invest in a good umbrella and a new coat

My deck is no longer graced with the first frogs of the season. They have been released by by son only to be replaced by frog spawn being incubated in his room. He is about to have hundreds of tadpoles and his plan so far is to raise the to frogs to release back into the wild. Life is never dull with a budding naturalist a path he has followed since he was very small. This year he has a better much larger tank and hopefully this will prevent the escape of multiple frogs. Last year I came home to find them hopping here and there in the house. I wait for the tanks of caterpillars and the butterflies that follow, always something special each summer.

Here’s to a happy “fruitful” summer.