Read MoreOften it was just the scraps I’d saved for the small blackbird with a bright yellow beak and a clear eye, who would visit every morning and sing to me so sweetly. It was my joy to feed him whatever I had left from my meagre meals.
Walking amongst the old tombstones of ancient Sussex churches, primroses, yellow and purple magnolia blossoms blooming in the Spring sunlight, I am a sacred fool talking to the dead
Read More
Read MoreThe practice of Utiseta is an old Norse tradition. The wise women, the seers, would sit out on the burial mounds of their ancestors or that of a wise leader, to seek knowledge and to gain answers.
Read MoreI would simply listen for the laughter of William, Thomazin, Thomas, Jane, and John carried on the wind in high summer across the green fields and Cornish hedgerows.
Read MoreThe serpent will come from the hole
On the brown Day of Bríde,
Though there should be three feet of snow
On the flat surface of the ground.
