Monday, October 31, 2005

The Dreaded Night Flight

Nothing quite so exhilarating as flight now is there? Maybe I just believe that because I hear it so often. Time to find out, how did I actually feel about flight.
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The opportunity arose when I was offered a ride of Pegasus over the bay at night. I was one of the last to take my turn. My lower lip had been sore for a awhile from biting on it. I could handle my flying donkey, but only to fly my belongings around, I was much to afraid to take it further than that. It was more like twilight about five in the morning when it was my turn. I shook slightly but was not about to let anyone in on that.

I'd always felt dread and utter horror when about to try something new. Not in my character to let it show, not a chance. I was proud of my stoicism, it was a large part of who I was. I was horrified every time I mounted a horse. Horses were big and capable of pounding me into a fine mush if they chose and I was entirely unsure of how they felt carting humans about. I am not sure I would like to change places with the horses, flying or otherwise.
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Once solidly astride, some of the heart pounding fear dropped off. I was committed to the ride and so would not doubt get through it. I pulled my coat a little tighter around me. I should have worn something more accommodating to sitting on a flying horse. "Nudge her", said the stable boy. I almost bit my lip clear through. Sweat was forming on my forehead. I dug my heels lightly into Pegasus's muscled body, Pegasus flinched a little. Obviously I needed to nudge with more certainty.

Sure enough Pegasus took to the sky in one great and confident swoop. I was far too busy dealing with my fear to remember much of it or take any great enjoyment. That said, once in the air I was very much glad I had not totally chickened out. The view was utterly amazing. The cliff sides were so glorious in the early morning light. I could see clearly the cave entrance where the enchantress could be seen in her early morning meditations.
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The enchantress looked so serene in her elegant robes sitting in timelessness. Unlike mortals like me she knew exactly where the future would take her. I was going through most of my life blind sided by events over which I have no control. Well, enough envy. Envy is an unattractive state and not one I cared to linger in.

Not far away from her stood several of the donkeys, looking sleepily upward. Possibly wondering if it might be fun to come along with us. Maybe not, maybe just noticing that for once I had taken a flight, after weeks of utter reluctance.
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There were other more "human" views, bathers had started at the mineral baths. I thought the better of waving, privacy is something we are all entitled to, and bathing was always private. Suddenly I noticed I had forgotten to be afraid. Just then for one second, I was not afraid, not one little bit. Just as suddenly it all came back. Pegasus swooped and landed. I took sugar lumps from my pocket and brushed the amazing flying horse before going on my way.
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To feel the ground under my feet again, oh, what relief. I suppose I will never feel really comfortable flying. I like the earth beneath my feet. Earth is solid and warm and secure. Flight is for birds and those very rare donkeys and horses that can only be found in magical places such as this. I was so tired and fell happily onto the grass beside my donkey. I slept until nearly noon and awoke feeling wonderfully rested. Before leaving the camp I was presented with a picture of the flight to remember the moment by. It was just sitting there propped up against the tree, I've no idea how it got there. My thanks to all who prompted me to take the flight. I will cherish it, always.

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Vi's Sari presentation

The Lmbani women have finished weaving and embroidering this beautiful sari for Vi, to present to her tonight in the gypsy camp as the lamps are lit to celebrate Divali. The celebration month of November will culminate in a birthday bash for Vi on November 22.

Vi has been declared a Gypsy Goddess for the month and will be thoroughly spoiled.

So light your lamps, candles and lanterns! The festival of light has begun! Banish the darkness, shine light into dark corners and bathe in the warmth of friendship and fellowship.

At last ...The Gypsy Camp

At Last … The Gypsy Camp

"I wasn't afraid of Baba Yaga," Augustus said. "Not at all."

Moonbeam responded with a donkey laugh. "Don't give me that, you were shaking like an aspen in a gale."

"Well, I just wasn't, that's all."

"You were the one who said she was a shape changer and that we were in trouble."

"I just wanted to warn you that we were in uncharted territory and that you should be careful."

"Well I'm not afraid to admit I was scared," Moonbeam said. "Sometimes fear is a good thing."

"Come on, you two, stop your squabbling," I said. "The gypsy camp is right over there, at the base of the hill beyond those trees."

We all three quickened our pace. It had been a hard journey with one or two unexpected challenges. But, now were here and ready for the celebrations.


I stopped at the edge of the camp. "Oh, my goodness, just look at this." The scene before us was as a live painting. The colorful caravans looked like they had been polished up for a special occasion.

"Wow!" Moonbeams eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Gee Haw," was all that Augustus managed, and he was usually such a talker.

The gypsies were all dressed up, the men mostly in colorful shirts and jeans, the women in beautifully embroidered dresses. Their guests, too, our fellow travelers, those who had taken different routes, mingled in groups excitedly chatting about their experiences. "We'll have a thing or two to tell them, won't we?"

The donkeys nodded. "Wait until the Secretary hears about the dragon and Baba Yaga," Augustus said, shaking his bristly mane and expanding his chest until he looked more shire than donkey.

"Just don't exaggerate," Moonbeam warned him.

"Me, exaggerate … never."

We were interrupted by the beautiful young gypsy woman. "I am Sandina," she said. "I am to take you to Queen Ravenna's caravan where you are to stay while you are here."

"Queen Ravenna … oh my goodness … I expected to sleep outside … beneath the stars." I turned to Moonbeam and Augustus. "Where can I bed them down?"

"Right over there," Sandina pointed to a paddock near the stream. "I will have a young boy take them over there and see that they are taken care of, if that's all right."

"Of course, that will be nice." I could see they would have lots of food, treats, and shelter if they needed it. They would also have a clear view of the any festivities, which I assumed would take place in the center clearing where a huge fire was already blazing.

Sandina led me to Queen Ravenna's caravan. It was brightly painted and decorated in all the colors of the rainbow with designs of the constellations, with new moons and full ones, of owls and ravens, of sunsets and sunrises.

Sandina motioned to two handsome young men to unload my baggage. They were dark of skin like Sandina. Their hair was black as night and curly.

I climbed the steps into the caravan. It was furnished with a single bed covered with colorful woolen blankets. There were plenty of pillows and cushions all gaily decorated, and on the two side walls, flanking the small windows, tapestries hung … each depicting a scene of natural beauty. One was of a stag whose eyes were so life-like that they immediately arrested mine. The floor was coved with woven rugs of amazing colors and designs. . There were candles, too, of assorted scents. I felt like I was indeed in a queen's palace.

When, I wondered, will I meet the queen?

©October 31, 2005

Pegasus Saga (7) -- of (9)

Pegasus by Right (7)

(I have finished the last two installments)

"I cannot believe in what you reveal,"
said I in patient musing,
"for there is not yet a witnessing
to sustain what I surely know."

"so that then is the hidden quest,
our champion's dream to unfold,"
she chime-tinkled in mirth and dance.
"all seekers wish to distill
knowing from believing,
and you would strive for something
less and more in yearning."

Then I came to understand
what I had begun by this entrancement --
that to know something of wonder
is without meaning or worth
unless shared with others
that they might believe --
or find a seed of dream.

Pegasus now reclined before me,
expecting more -- waiting,
for he is of a journey
after all.

What then, did I know so profoundly?
Simply that a place existed
in divine trusted certainty,
that might be claimed "most beautiful"
of all scenes of comprehension
within the balance of agreement
called humanity.

I did not have to see it to believe,
and no amount of believing
could enhance my soul fed knowledge.
It was my faith that such knowing
could engender awe and mirth in others
that called forth the Pegasus of dreams.

"Then let it be done," I cried;
"but not for me, but all."

The shimmering form of steed and maid
were but shadows against the portal light,
yet had they not protected me
I may have been consumed or drawn in --
I am not sure,
and cannot describe how I chose
to remain --
for in this bold jest I was correct,
and of this flight of Pegasus
I could not return,
and might never have been at all.

"You do not wish to see it then --
this panorama so enticing that
the ether now trembles
with the ripples of your request?"

"It was never for me," I whispered.
"There is one whose dreams you surely know --
the girl next door,
my friend Alicia who laughs at my
attempts to sing to the flowers.
I have tried to make her know of flowers
and many things her blind eyes cannot behold,
and somehow she believes --
in me."

Once again and on and in
there were many shapes and forms
prancing just out of sight and wonder,
and I knew then also that of this
Pegasus as a focus of everbeen.

I then spoke of what I had planned
all along -- what Pegasus must have sensed,
but somehow needed for me to invoke
the power of the words.

"When the collage of splendid wonder
is finally painted of the magick points
of vision and sacrifice of Shernai --
pray give it her as is her right --
and pray withhold my name,
for it is her love and trust
that brings us here,
in faith."

(to be continued)


Coral is afraid no one will recognize them
if they come to the party in costume. A discussion
revealed that they think everyone will pretend
not to recognize them, and then they won't know who
anyone is.

Jade suggested that they ask the donkeys
who probably won't be fooled -- Fran??

Anyway, her is the costumes for the girls,
which they made for themselves (mostly).

'quoise -- is the Jolly Green Giant in green leotards
and sweatshirt, with a "can" made from a large grocery bag
crayoned to look like green beens.
We still haven't figured out what to put on her head

Jade -- she was most insistent on something based on the song
"with her head beneath her arms". I had saved this piece of silvery foam
packing material which I cut and punched holes in.
Jade stitched it together with string to make a "T-Tunic"
large enough for her. Then she has a hood made form a
thrift store black shawl with a pumpkin mask. Then she has a "head"
made from a soccerball with a human mask over it,
and a huge axe made of cardboard. I don't know how she will
carry any candy she gets, but it doesn't seem to matter.

Coral -- she wanted to be a fairy and found a little girl's
ballet costume with a frilly tutu at the thrift store.
Wings were a problem (for me). 'quoise pointed out
that when Coral uses her crutches (not often) she sometimes
plays like flying. Ah-ha! We fastened some plastic window screen
to the crutches after spraypainting them purple, which flutters
around when she waves her crutches. She looks more like a
violet butterfly and is dangerous to anyone within six feet, but OK.

Me?? a sea monster. What else.


Cave of the Queen of Serpents

While Travellers celebrate Halloween and All Soul's Night le Enchanteur wanders deeper into the Serpent Queen's Cave, on the Isle of the Dead, to see her world. She is dazzled by the beauty of the Queen and her Treasury. The Queen has secrets to share.

Divali lights and Day of the Dead

Not having enough room here for a Day of the Dead altar and a Divali shrine, we combined them...the lights twinkled all night long. It was beautiful.

My Halloween Conversation with a Raven

For Halloween, I thought I would share this tale with you. It actually happened, just as I tell it…

I took my early morning cup of tea out onto the balcony, and sat down to admire my favourite tree. A raven flew down and perched on a branch. He turned a beady eye on me, and I, as is my wont, bid him good morning. I don’t actually talk aloud to birds, you understand – I direct my thoughts at them.

Having bid him good morning, my mind wandered to the line from Poe - ``Quoth the Raven, nevermore…”

The raven at once turned his back on me.

``Ok,” I thought, ``Poe didn’t go down too well.” I hummed a few bars of the Scottish ballad, Twa Corbies.

The raven still resolutely refused to look at me.

I now leaned forward and directed my thoughts in a more concentrated manner – but this time I thought before I thought, if you see what I mean.

``OK,” I said, ``ravens have had bad press from Poe and folklore – you’re sick of hearing that stuff. Tell you what I’ll do – I’ll write a song, a poem, in praise of ravens – of all black birds. I’ll sing of their beautiful shining black feathers, the perfect way their wings fold back against their bodies, their courage, their protectiveness – I’ll sing of the way ravens have helped people, and how they take it upon themselves to be a warning, to be associated with bad luck, because they are noble birds that do not think of themselves first…”

By now the raven had turned round. He was looking at me, disconcertingly, from either side of a slender twig, two bright yellow eyes looking at me…

``I’m not as famous as Poe,” I thought at him, ``and not a great poet, but my words are sometimes heard and sometimes travel over vast distances, and I know a woman who loves ravens and will be glad to let others know of my song.”
He hopped around the branch, closer to me, his bright eyes still fixed intently on me.

``I will sing of the beauty of the raven,” I promised. ``You are surely the handsomest bird of all.”

We continued to observe each other in comfortable silence for a couple of heartbeats, and now, here is the spooky bit.

``You have my word on it,” I said. ``From now on, I will sing in praise of ravens. No more quoting Poe, I promise. You can go about your business now.”
And he flew away.

Playing Tonight at the Duwamish Cemetary

New lead Singer

You're in for a screaming good time!
Starts at Midnight

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Happy All Soul's Night!

My painting titled ‘All Soul’s Night’ was based on the music of Loreena McKennitt. Happy Night to All!


Bonfire dot the rolling hillsides
Figures dance around and around
To drums that pulse out echoes of darkness
Moving to the pagan sound.

Somewhere in a hidden memory
Images float before my eyes
Of fragrant nights of straw and of bonfires
And dancing till the next sunrise.

I can see the lights in the distance
Trembling in the dark cloak of night
Candles and lanterns are dancing, dancing
A waltz on All Souls Night.

Figures of cornstalks bend in the shadows
Held up tall as the flames leap high
The green knight holds the holly bush
To mark where the old year passes by.

Bonfires dot the rolling hillsides -- photo
Figures dance around and around
To drums that pulse out echoes of darkness
Moving to the pagan sound.

Standing on the bridge that crosses
The river that goes out to the sea
The wind is full of a thousand voices
They pass by the bridge and me.

This piece was inspired by the imagery of a Japanese tradition which celebrated the souls of the departed by sending candle-lit lanterns out on waterways leading to the ocean, sometimes in little boats; along with the imagery of the Celtic All Souls Night celebrations, at which time huge bonfires were lit not only to mark the new year, but to warm the souls of the departed. - L.M.

Music and lyrics by Loreena McKennitt

My painting entitled “Celtic Fire” is also of Loreena McKennitt

Dancing Tree for Gypsy Camp

This tree decorated with moss is perfect for dancing around!
copyright Monika Roleff 2005.

What would Halloween be without some special treats!

Preparing for a night ride

Ever since I mentioned to the Enhantrer that I thought I would like a moonlight ride over Paris ,Pegasus has been pawing the ground near by. Getting settled into the Gypsy camp with two very active and not too helpful guests has taken a while. It turns out the gentleman’s name is Edward, another distant relative who also was born into the world for only a few hours. Lucinda and Edward hit it off immediately. Once we were assigned to a lovely caravan, and we had our first home base, they linked arms and headed out to explore the camp. There seemed to be a lots of activities going on but at the moment I was glad to finally be alone.

After arranging all our possessions neatly in the caravan I dragged a comfortable chair outside and placed it under a nearby weeping willow and planned mentally for my night ride ahead. As I was daydreaming I saw the Secretary of Donkeys Inc. in the field nearby walking a couple of donkeys. Perfect timing. I hurried over with Destiny and made arrangements for her to take care of Destiny for me until I left the gypsy camp. I was sure that my two guests would entertain themselves without any help from me and I looked forward to taking off by myself. Settling back under the tree I thought about Paris and what I would really like to see

All Soul's Night Greetings

To mark All Soul's Night I took a ride with Baba, in her black swan, to the Isle of the Dead and met the Queen of the Serpents who guards the entrance to the underworld. I took a small vile of pure Castalian Water, collected at Delphi and we drank to creativity. The Serpent has blessed all travellers on the Soul Food Silk Way.

Nessie Messie

Welcome to campout breakfast with the girls.
The selection of goodies is by committee vote,
limited only by my restriction of what they can cook.
'quoise thought up the name "Nessie Messie".

Everyone is invited -- bring your own plate, cup and fork.


Orange juice (fresh squzzed by 'quoise)
Jade Taters (home fries with green pepper, onions and basil cooked in a Dutch oven)
Toad in the Holes (recipe below)


whole wheat bread with square cut out of the center (Coral)
cooked bacon bits (done last night by Jade and pat dried by 'quoise)
eggs (cracked in a bowl by me, stirred by Coral and seasoned by mischief. It seems some "cinnimmonnimm" got in there with the sea salt, course pepper and dash of milk)

These take four people to make (around this fire)

One to put butter in the hot fry pan and spread around
One to put the bread slice in
One to drop bacon pits in the hole
One to pour in some eggs (sloppy OK)
One to turn the mess over and serve

oops! Somebody else better get here quick!

Bring catsup and hot sauce as you please

Saturday, October 29, 2005

A Halloween Tale..

Or, how little children should mind their elders.

The laughter of children echoed through the pastoral valley. Life here in a community too small to have it's own name ran at a pace all it's own. If it was not for the inhabitants growing old and the occasional birth of a baby one would swear life stood absolutely still. You could think that, but you would be wrong.

Days were spent tilling the soil, looking after animals and keeping house. There was but one road going both in and out of the valley. No crimes had ever been committed here, and though a few of its inhabitants had moved out, they were few in number. It was by all accounts a life of pleasant routine.

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Not too many people had ever lived here, judging from the graveyard there were more than 300 souls gone to the afterlife from here. Roughly that’s one citizen for every year of the valley’s 300 year life. No-one remembered who founded the settlement or in what year but the first death was recorded in 1706 a Bryce Sand, no indication if it was a male or female Bryce Sand nor what this person did for a living. A life with as little to make it remarkable as each passing day here.

So it came as a great shock that grey October day that three little boys, two brothers and their friend, went missing. October days were slow and lazy, the harvest was already put away and shared with neighbours. The children were all home schooled together at Miss Miller’s house, all twelve of them, just as they had been since Miss Miller was about twenty and she'd be nearly eighty now. The great love of her life had died in one of the great wars and she was unable to commit herself to any other man. Instead she vowed to educate every child born in this valley to be upright and peaceful so there would be no more wars. She was bent over, heavy with the knowledge of all the wars that had come since making the great promise to herself. Still she should be proud of herself, for in the valley itself life had gone without any fights, without any incident whatever.

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The citizen’s in the valley had counted themselves out of every census in living memory, no wars were funded by this valley and they had no need for federal services, they could look perfectly well after themselves. There was no police, no jail, no court.

They should have been in school that day, that John and Jack and their friend Luke. Somewhere between Miss Miller’s and home the boys had gone missing. Miss Miller had assumed the boys had taken ill with the cold or flue and since the valley had no telephone it was no immediately checked on. No one could have thought it would be anything else.

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It was something else. That morning the three had met up as usual. Luke had shared some of his cake with the other two. They had chatted about the new foal at the Miller’s. White horses were born only very rarely in the valley. God seemed to favour brown for horses.

They were nearly halfway to the old schoolhouse when all three heard something. None of them knew what it was exactly, only that no one they knew had a voice anything like it. Still, whatever of whoever it was, was asking for help and the all three knew what needed to be done. They needed to go and see if they could help and if they could not they should fetch someone who could.

There was a small patch of forest where the voice emanated from. A little forests on the east side of the valley before the river. A small brook ran through it and the boys knew there were caves in this forest up against the hillside which were dangerous. The caves were from a long, long time ago, before the families had moved here, when other strange people had lived here. Inside the caves there were paintings of large cat life animals and lizards such as no one had seen ever in real life. Those were stories of course, in modern times no-one had dared go into the caves because they knew it was dangerous and everyone was quite happy without having any danger in their lives.

The boys ran into the forest, convinced that there was hero business to be done. They had long talked of being like super heroes, able to fly, to save the innocent from harm. Maybe this was their day to become heroes. That was a far as they had thought it out. They ran from one direction to the other as the voice seemed to change a great deal. At last they were exhausted and could not run any longer.

John had blisters on his feet and was complaining a lot. Luke was hungry and had started his lunch sitting on a large rock by what might have been an opening to a cave.. Jack had not quite run out of energy and paced up and down the path kicking stones. He kicked one rather hard and it went flying. They heard a small scream, it cam from right over Luke's head. It was a very good thing that the three had used the bathroom before leaving home or all three would have been standing there in wet pants.

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There sitting perched on an old stump, over the cave opening, was the strangest creature. It wasn't very big but it was very odd looking. It had very large lizard-like eyes, and it's skin was a little scaly like a fish. It's hands or where one would have expected to see hands were talons like covered to the nails with small feathers. Feathers, I kid you not. They would have gasped or screamed for sure, but they had no breath at all, not for that moment. They scarcely caught one breath before the next fright.

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Just behind the three, standing on another stump, stood another just like it. This one was a bit larger with a very round belly. They struggled to scream. They were starting to turn a little bluish from not breathing. Finally breath came and they let out a blood curdling scream which was met by another as the two strange looking creatures screamed too.

The earth shook a little and they were silent. "oh no." said the sitting creature. "Oh no," echoed the second creature. "What, what, WHAT?" screamed the three boys, no longer sure what they should fear more and their feet still frozen to the forest floor. They shot glances between the two creatures and each other. The booming continued, the earth shook and there was a thunderous sound coming form everywhere at once. The little grey creatures with the big eyes were no less frightened than the boys, actually they seemed more afraid and were turning strangely pale.

The sun seemed to appear and disappear and a twirling whooshing sound was overhead they dared look, they might as well, they were no able to run and screaming had not made anything go away. What they saw was beyond belief. Meaning that if they told this story to anyone they would be laughed at for making up ridiculous lies. Still there it was, a large flying reptile with wings and eyes a fiery orange colour, it had a split long tongue which flitted before them, and talons with long brown nails.

One of the little grey creatures looked up clasping it's hands, well whatever passed for hands, and pleaded, "let us go, we meant no harm". A booming voice came from the great lizard, or it might have been a dragon if you don't consider fire breathing important. "Get away from the humans, or you will have to deal with me. The two ran away into the cave. The dragon, to call it something for the sake of argument a dragon will do, perched above the cave opening, he shook his head and mumbled, "halloweenies."

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Now he gazed straight at the boys who had just found their feet and were bouncing around a bit trying to figure out where to run to. "Get out of my forest, the lot of you." The boys ran and clamoured all the way up the hill to where the graveyard stood but the dragon followed them out. No matter where they ran the beast was not far behind. "Climb into this tree", yelled Jack. Which is where they were headed to, the biggest tree in the valley. Unfortunately, just as they were nearly there they were caught except for Jack as the dragon swooped down and caught them with his brow talon nails.

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The dragon had miscalculated and a wing clipped into the old oak and all four of them tumbled down back to front and front to back and out they fell right in front of Miss Miller's one room school house. Well the boys thought they were safe. Miss Miller was not scared of anything they knew that and surely she would come out of the house running with her cane and thump the dragon on his scaly behind too.

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Miss Miller did not. She stayed in and did not even open the door for them. The dragon righted himself and lumbered over them. His talon reached out and the boys cringed. Well they thought they were dragon kibble right about then. They were too tired to scream or cry.

"Never," said the dragon poking Luke with his talon, "never go into the forest without an adult, those halloweenies play tricks on you, and since you'd eaten all your goodies already you'd have had nothing to pay your way out with. I am getting too old to keep saving lost children from halloweenies, sprained ankles and sick stomachs from eating the wrong mushrooms." He stood up and looked his most fearsome. "If I see you in the forest again I will let the halloweenies have you." and with that he rose up, flapped his wings and flew off back to his forest.

"Did you see that miss Miller, did you see the dragon?"
"No, didn't have my glasses on. No one else saw it because school is out and they are all gone home. Besides," said Miss Miller, "there is no such thing as dragons and no-one will believe you. Next you'll ask me to believe there are creatures called halloweenies in the forest who tricked you? No boys, you were loafing off in the forest where it is dangerous, now go home and stay on the path."

They did stay on the path and never did they see the dragon or the halloweenies again. That was on October the 31st, coincidence?

Grace's parents had a beautiful statue created of her and enclosed in glass at her grave site.This is in Jamestown,NY.

Grace Galloway died on her wedding day.

Donkey Tale - Name Games

My donkey, impishly grinned and said, "you don't know my name, do you?" "no," I answered. "Well," he mused, knowing I was embarrassed at neither knowing nor having tried to know, after all I could have asked. Trying to set it right I bit my lower lip and said in a barely audible voice, "what is your name?"

"Well," he teased, "it is not sweetie, or babe, or little donkey, and it most certainly is not you stubborn old thing." I tried to mutter an apology, again, he stood there, grinning.

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"You can be insufferable." I was nearly crying.
"You've nearly made her cry" came a small voice just to the side of me. I was quite shocked as I was not aware that the geese in the gypsy camp were also able to speak.

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"You can speak too?" "If you are willing to really listen, we can be heard to speak," the goose explained. "I'm sorry I did not mean to be insensitive, but since I did not know you could speak it seemed silly to ask you your names. Still I am truly sorry if any of the things I've called you made you feel hurt. Would you tell me now please, what are your names?"

"Mine is Ginny," said the goose, "and my grinning friend the donkey is Doncaster Grey, he likes to tease, don't feel too badly" with that ginny crawled into my lap like a cat, she was a lovely and affectionate goose. The donkey was still grinning and making faces.

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"Alright, Doncaster Grey, what is it?" "Well," started the donkey while shuffling his donkey feet in the dirt, "I've been thinking I should like to have a Halloween costume too, just as the humans do. I thought I'd like to be and angel, after all I already have wings." It seemed like a fair enough request and after a bit of consideration I took Ginny off my lap and made a few changes to have Doncaster go from just plain old flying and talking donkey to an angel donkey.

Some glitter in the wings and sparkly eyelashes glued on and a halo fashioned from tin foil and wire. "Would you mind very much, marm, sketching me in costume, to remember the moment by?" so this is what I sketched. Donkeys can be very silly.

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Pegasus Saga (6)

Pegasus by Right (6)

My gallant stallion returned --
not that he had actually gone, or ever was --
here I mean, since where I am now
in feeble form and spirit
is not where I was before,
and because of this experience
I am not now what I was then --
but I promised a story, not idle musing …

Start again!
Pegasus and I were again entranced
in the same proximity and focus of
attention. So there!

The enticing rustle of whisper leaves
was gone -- but not so she,
who was now mounted atop the steed.
You may imagine, if you wish or need,
a warrior maiden with golden hair,
bridleless save twists of braided mane,
singing a melody meant for me alone --

but I saw more of a pulsing thistle down,
blended amber above and within
a silver cloud of shifting form
that resembled perhaps a horse
more than else --
and was only feminine in voice
and kindness

They were weary, I sensed --
understanding that what was moments
for me and thee and even now
might have been much more of when,
and they actually chose to return yesterday
soas not to encumber me.

The fountain rippled once again
and chimed within my soul --
"ap'egal'sis" cannot do this alone,
nor any but by common join and be,
yet you have allowed this
and other have pledged the quest
that all may perceive the Vale."

I was awash with dancing light,
foreto behold a vision -- nay a plan,
by which the Vale could be known
with goal of shown to me
and bound in future memory.

For no vibration of be --
bound even slightly
to the clutch of physiography,
can survive within the quested Vale
but for a shiver or bold reality --
measure in the dance of quanta.

For this task will serve by choice.
three filled thrice volunteers
to dive as swallows into the seething mists
and catch a blink of grandeur;
returning to breath and heal
and swoop again in joy!

My Pegasus would not take them there,
but would guide and protect their return.
My faerie princess was now an admiral
of forces by my ready count
of 19,683 flights of will and pride,
who would suffer and nearly perish
that a dream would be bound
and promise kept.

Could I have retracted my whimsy
I do not know -- and was not tested,
for this release of the Vale of Shernai
had gained the fond attention
of stars in nova prance
and seeds waiting to be born,
and would not be denied --

(to be continued)

Friday, October 28, 2005

Never Forgotten

Song of Eternity: Circles in the Sun

(With Love, for Megan)

I have finally finished my paintings for Megan.
This first one is a little bit dark,
but there is color in the darkness,
which is the way of it, I suppose.

Song of Life: Sweetness and Thorns

Noticing along the way

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It would seem ordinary and is easy to miss unless the eye and the light catches it just right.

Munchkin Halloween





Thursday, October 27, 2005

Words for singing along with the donkeys

The Donkeys Union Song

Come comrades join the chorus
of the donkeys’ serenade
Let us rouse the hottest passions
of us donkeys on parade

Tell the world we’re members
of a glorious old tradition.
We’re the good old Donkey’s Union
full of enterprise and ambition.

We’ve been on the job for ages,
carried Moses and the Great One
in the mountains, plains or deserts
where it frizzles or it freezes

Now we’re loaded with experience
and wisdom of the ages
so we’re not just beasts of burden
or some smudge on history’s pages.

Just ask any Jack or Jenny
what it’s like to be an ass.
They’ll swell with pride and tell you-
we’ve got culture, we’ve got class.

The Donkeys sing around the Golden Throne

I hope the song pleases the audience. Those who find the bagpipes difficult should provide themselves with ear plugs, available at the tent of the Gypsy Queen. I will provide song sheets for those who wish to join the chorus. (The tune is a very old ditty, original words: Rachel Rachel, I've been thinking) The Secretary.

Oat Cakes

Last night we ate out under the stars and pines. We had hotdogs on sticks over the fire, and beans, peaches and brown bread from tine cans. Not my choice of a good meal, but we needed the cans.

Coral washed the cans while Jade and 'quoise made oatmeal mush. This hard to do on an open fire but great of you want it thick and yukky for oat cakes. At the last minute they stirred in some raisins and sunflower seeds. These were poured into the tin cans to sit out in the cold over night.

Just before the tea party I will cut open the bottom of the cans. Then they can push the glop through and slice it off in thick portions with a plastic cake knife. These will be fried in some margarine. Years ago we always used left over bacon grease.

Get ready!

Nessie and girls in aprons

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Pegasus Saga (5)

The Vale of Shernai

i do not know why I am telling of this,
or why you should believe,
for I do not -- believe that is --
but surely know …
and what else am I fore
but to see things of wonder
and share in simple ways?

trouble is -- is not simple,
nor a trouble really --
except that I will fail in the telling,
for I lack the notes to sing the song,
and colors too few,
and reach too short,
and passions but a trace of love.

but, then as now and hurry,
if you do not attend to this story,
nor draw from it worth and mirth,
it is not my spirit that will tremble
in the balance …
so choose! to continue or nay.

WARNING -- to go here is to never return!

All right! I begin.

i found him in a tree --
part of him at any rate and 'him' is but a guess.
he was not 'in the tree'

like kids stealing apples or kisses,
but one with the tree -- sort of --
only his torso was free,
except for one hand of which he had four,
and his lower parts were, well --
still merged of the tree -- naturally.

it seemed a perfect fit,
with no pain or physical rejection,
beyond his wishing to be free, of course --

he asked if i could help a bit,
which perhaps I could,
knowing I probably wouldn't see him
if i were not of the answer,
or a prayer --
perhaps i exist soas to be there,
and did and was.

so, I told him how to free himself,
and in return, since I had not asked
for boon nor pledge nor gift,
he told me a story --
better than this one sure …
the best he had to give.

He told me of
the Vale of Shernai,
and then went off to find a friend,
the reason he had come --
a silver wisp of angel
that might look like a horse to me,
but then he looked like a gnome to me,
and wasn't --

but I am drifting into other stories,
and you already know of such things --
mythical steeds, and angels,
and shape shifters and those who
drift the ether waves ..
so I will tell you of the Vale
which I have never seen,
nor had he except by accident --
'cept his 'where' aim isn't very good
judging by his marriage with a tree.

see, I can get quickly to the point.
no one can go there!

by chance or folly, my friend arrived
a whinkle ahead of his physical shell,
which is good because everything in the Vale
is poisonous and biologically sterile
by the standards of our feeble attention --
and he wisely chose to bounce
instead of discorporate,
but had glimpses enough
to be of it forever …
and now it comes to me --
and I will be of it too,
by the gifted trust of the silver one,
"ap'egal'sis" be known to thee.

(to be continued)

Dear Fran

surely this should not be hidden at the bottom of a comment list ...

wow! another line and it could be an incredible Fizgerald (55 words)

Maybe you would like to check out that blog
where you can take a seed line (thought) from
another poem and post a new one, creating
a braid of enchantment.


Fran wrote ...

"We have wandered roads together
played and learned and found each other
hand in hand the journey winds
through the back roads of memory
through the pathways of new learning
up the stairs where magic beckons
into caverns dark
and to the morning."

hey Enchantress -- how about an inscription
outside the Abbey door?

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

A Luna'cy

I cannot help but be touched by Luna's words,
and engendered memories.
So with only fond regard,
and in partial answer to Aletta's question below,
I stole your dream and crafted this song in 18 minutes,
a slight gift for thee.


A Wanderer's Song

I found a hidden door --
was whisked away in moonlight.
Gypsies drew me -- enchantment made my dreams.
Ancient knowledge revealed --
how can my life ever be the same?

See me! Hear me! -- I proclaim who I am.
I am not an invisible child!
See me! Hear me! -- that truth is to be free.

I have met celestial beings --
and have danced with wee fairies;
warriors of great strength and feminine mystic;
new found talking donkeys and dolls --
and friends of old who knew me long ago.

See me! Hear me! -- I proclaim who I am.
I am not an invisible child!
See me! Hear me! -- that truth is to be free.

The Silk Road winds through time and space --
of dreams and mystery and magic.
Somewhere along the way I meet myself;
as child, girl, the woman I want to be --
the secret that I have hid in my heart.

See me! Hear me! -- I proclaim who I am.
I am not an invisible child!
See me! Hear me! -- that truth is to be free.

Under the oak

We rumbled in during the night and I hope that the soft singing of the donkeys hid some of the squeeking of the cart wheels. The girls are asleep in the back and I will be soon. I am loving the Pegasus pages unfolding. But I will wait until it is done before getting the girls involved. I will have to check out that other blog.

The girls are planning to practice drumming so don't be alarmed. Perhaps we can have a tea party Friday. I'm going to teach the girls haow to make campfire oatcakes. Anybody have some molassas?


Monday, October 24, 2005

The journey to my heart

My journey began long before I knew I was looking for something. One night I received an email asking me if I was ready to embark on a journey. I had no idea where it would go. It started with a list. Tired of carrying the weight of my life, I packed lightly with only what would fit in my little backpack. At daybreak, I met many travelers who were ready for such a journey as this.

I found a hidden door in a tree and was whisked away by a night ride in moonlight. Mysterious gypsies drew me with a silent call in the night. Some kind of enchantment made my dreams deep and meaningful. Before long, I woke each day excited to know what would happen next. The journey to an island brought memories I didn’t know I possessed. Ancient knowledge was revealed to me. How can my life ever be the same now?

I learned to proclaim who I am. I am no longer the invisible child! See me! Hear me! Understand my words! Slowly I have come to realize my own truth. That truth is to be free. Unburdened by my own past and my parents past. Just let it go and find what’s around that next corner.

I have met celestial beings. I have met wee fairies. I have met warriors of great strength and feminine mystic. I have met talking donkeys and talking dolls. I have met known hell raisers. I have been reintroduced to friends of old who knew me long ago.

And now I have learned to be open in a completely new way. My heart feels lighter than I ever remember it being. I have let go of old cryptic ideas. I have found a new road. The Silk Road. It winds through space and time; thoughts and dreams; mystery and magic.

Somewhere along the way I met myself. The child, the girl, and the woman I want to be. I was stunned to discover that I needed to make some changes. To hold my own hand and say, “Yes! We can do this.” Brick by brick I had to tear down my own walls and find an inner world rich with ideas waiting to be discovered.

At last, I am in an distant land with no water and no road. I have finally come to the last door. The one that was hidden away for safekeeping, so no one would find that brilliant light. The key is the secret that I hid in my own heart. It was a prisoner there that I bound tight. And through my journey the ties loosened. And fell away, until I could feel an ache of joy and freedom coming close. The key that spilled from my lips opened the door and released my spirit. Away I flew with magic wings. I saw a wild fire burning. The fire of my anger, my regret, my invisibility burning, burning, gone!

Shared Bodily Warmth

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Quite a day at the gypsy camp yesterday, after a few hours I was done for the day. My donkey's welcome bodily warmth soon had me drop into a slumber on his broad little back. A good thing these donkeys know as well as we where to take us. He took me to my favourite clearing where I fell into a deeply satisfying sleep, dreaming of markets and fine wares and new friends.

Bombois, who lives in Paris. Here he has captured what I could imagine as our group of travelers enjoying a quiet time together.

Pregnant With Possibility

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The Amazon Queen takes her place on the Golden Chair, expectant, filled with a sense of creative possibility.

Pegasus Saga (4)

PEGASUS by Right (4)

'tis said a horse cannot look straight ahead,
but both eyes did and more,
and I understood a conversation,
nay a conspiritation was afoot;
for all the leaves were atremble
and the fountain frozen
in mid-spray.

I know not who or what enjoined
to help decide a path or course
to meet this challenge --
those drawn through curiosity …
not of the Vale,
but of how I knew.

The fountain pulsed again,
and echoed in light and chimes --
words formed within my mind,
quivering -- caressing --
a voice more feminine …
yet not a single voice,
nor voice at all.

"we will go as you enthrall,
as Pegasus cannot go alone,
nor thee as known afore.

Long have we waited for permission,
now gifted by thy charge and will …"

I did not know what to make of this,
but sensed this journey quest
might take a span of when,
and closed my eyes in time to see
an unfolding of nether wings --
and I understood that Pegasus
only appeared to glow --
protecting me from the glare
of a portal from which shone …
well that's another story.

I would tell you now what I know
of Shernai ..
that I may prepare.

(to be continued)

Sunday, October 23, 2005

Lavengro tells the story of his dragon hunt...

Sit by the fire with me. I have a tale to tell.

When I was a boy, my mother would tell me stories as I fell asleep in her arms. Once she told me a story about a dragon, a very brave dragon that was falsely accused of trying to eat a maiden, when all he was doing was trying to save her from an evil knight with low intentions. The knight killed the dragon and told everyone he had saved the girl himself. The girl tried to tell the truth but no one believed her, because people thought that dragons were evil and knights were good..

I loved this story and had my mother tell it to me many times. I asked my mother if dragons were real and she said, ``if you believe in them, they are.” So I have always believed in them.

I heard that in this enchanted realm into which we have come that there exist real dragons. So I resolved I must see them for myself, and if it be so, then perhaps I could persuade one to come with me – for dragons, my mother told me, are proud creatures, and cannot be held as captives. She also told me the only way to catch a dragon was with Turkish Delight – they cannot resist it.

So I took some boxes of Turkish Delight with me on my dragon quest.

And a butterfly net. You never know when you’ll need one.

On the first day of my quest I walked deep into the forest, following the trail where the dragon had been seen. Oh yes, I was afraid – I had heard this was a fierce dragon. But my mother said a dragon could be won over with sweetmeats and I believe in my mother even more than I believe in dragons.

The part of the trail where the dragon had been seen was very quiet. I spread my cape beneath a tree and opened one of the boxes. It smelled delicious but I didn’t touch it – surely it would attract the dragon?

Long hours passed. I manfully refused to eat the Turkish Delight and instead chewed on some cheese and olives that I had brought with me.

Suddenly, I felt something brush against my shoulder, and a puff of warm air touched the side of my face. I froze – whatever it was, it was behind me, and had crept up so silently that I had been unaware of it.

A long snout appeared over my shoulder, stretching down the length of my arm and sniffing at the olives in my hand.

Sniff, sniff, went this long, scaly snout, while little puffs of smoke erupted from its nostrils. I longed to turn my head and see the rest of this extraordinary head, but I dared not move.

Something touched my other shoulder. A paw covered in greenish bronze scales, and with long sharp talons rested there. I opened the hand with the olives in it, and the snout delicately snuffled them up, and smacked its lips with a long, forked tongue.

The scaly paw with its long sharp talons squeezed my shoulder gently. I drew more olives out of my pocket and held them up. Once more they were quickly gobbled up.

I turned my head and found myself looking into the strangest eyes I had ever seen. The pupils were lengthwise, shaped like lozenges, deepest black with a flickering flame in the centre of each. The irises were gold, with speckles of emerald green.

My mother, it seems, was not always right about everything. Some dragons prefer olives to Turkish Delight. But when I ran out of olives, the dragon looked so disappointed that I hastily took some Turkish Delight from the box and offered them to him. He enjoyed them very much, and sat down beside me.

With him sitting on his haunches, and I on mine, we were about the same height – so I thought he must be a very young dragon, a baby perhaps, in need of a friend and companion. So I hoped, for I loved him already. When he had finished the box of Turkish Delight, he gave a contented sigh and settled down beside me. But his eyes remained wide open and watchful.

Ah, now, listen, because this is old wisdom. If you want a wild creature to trust you and love you as a friend, you must be patient. The hawk learns to think of his master as his roost, and the faulconer will stay awake for many days and nights until the hawk falls asleep on his arm. That is the moment of truth – if that moment does not come, the faulconer must release the bird back to the wild, for the two will never be one.

The same with my stallion Clodoveo – he came to me as a young noble beast, full of spirit and fire, and for three days and nights, I shared his pen, sleeping and eating there until he accepted me as his friend. I had no need of ropes, no need to `break’ him, as some call it. Once he knew me as a friend, he allowed me to ride him with no need of saddle or bridle.

Thus I knew that if need be, I would have to spend many days and nights here, by the side of this beautiful creature, until he closed his eyes in sleep. Then I would know that he and I were truly meant to be companions, and that I had won his trust.

But it was he who won mine – for I slept at the side of the fire breathing dragon, and when I woke, he had curled his tail around me and spread his wing over me to protect me from the creatures of the forest, and breathed warm air on me so I would not feel the cold.

His name is Glais. He is, as I suspected, very young and knows very few words yet. He is asleep in the caravan now. I think I shall not ever have to use my cast iron stove again, because he keeps the caravan warm with his breath. Luckily, he does not snore, or he might singe the carpet.

The Golden Bone Chair

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Baba Yaga brings out this designer, hand crafted, chair especially for Halloween and All Soul's Night. The idea is that travellers can take turns to sit on the chair and have five minutes in the spotlight as they perform for the crowd. Come October 30th - through to November 2 Baba is hoping that one by one travellers will take the golden seat and make a special presentation. Costumes and wigs are available in Pandora's Costume Box. Excuse drunken Silenus who can never miss a party. Hopefully the donkey is taking him away.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

My goodness, is that?

I come huffing and puffing the last little bit into the gypsy camp. The camp which until now I'd only watched from the hilltop. Somehow I've just been to tired to face too many people all at once. Today I am determined to take myself all the way to the bottom of the hill and look into the Sunday market.

There in the middle of a open area of grass just behind one of the few permanent houses sat an old woman. Not old really, more like weathered, as if there were several lifetimes carved into her knowing face. Her eyes looked through and beyond everything, or so it would seem. Maybe she was daydreaming off in some distant world. Her life might seem to her as mine now does to me, like nesting dolls, one life inside another. I don't know about the gysy but I cannot know if I am in the inner life, the outer one or one in between?

She seems oblivious to the goings on, ladies dancing, pied pipers piping, giggling girls putting up laundry and a lively kitten swiping away at butterfilies. My donkey is trotting off to meet with other donkeys at the other side of the camp, they too are making quite the commotion.

I think I'll just sit here and rest a while. I'll think if I really should tie the old gypsy scarf around my head and read cards as my aunt Anna taught me. Perhaps I might see what teas the guides suggest I prescribe for the betterment of the customer's health, all in the spirit of the market to profit the overall karma and barter back and forth for what we earnestly need.

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My fingers nervously knot the scarf around my head. I shuffle my Marseille Tarot deck. I don't need the cards, they are a prop, a lovely prop once given to me by a dear friend, for seeing babies in her future, when her twins were born, she gave me this deck. These cards have been with me for thirty years. Twenty years since I last used them..

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I slipped the deck in my volumenous skirt pocket, and slowly descended the hillside, stepping gingerly sideways hoping to not be noticed just yet. Baba looked up and smiled. "Good, you're here".

Hallo , numele meu este Gabi.

Hallo , numele meu este Gabi. Eu am funciar îna untru un codru undeva arthot ma tase drum. Oh Draga , da , Englez!

Again! My name is Gabi - I have landed in a forest somewhere along the Silk Road. My human, possibly, knows where we are supposed to be going, but I wouldn’t bet my silken ears upon it. Dacianna, my human, is a Wizard, but she often gets narcoleptic when flying and well, in your ear, even when she is awake she doesn’t know where she is going most of the time. However, it has been said: “Do not meddle with Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger,” so we will let that pass.

I have landed in this forest and my ear twitch tells me there is a camp near. As I flew over the Silk Road I saw many landing places, but this looked like one that might receive us, and yes, I was permitted to land. I rather suppose it is not where we are supposed to start down this Silk Road, but, well, in your ear, starting at the wrong place would certainly be nothing new for Dacianna and Gabi.

I have also heard tell that there is a Secretary for Donkey’s in this land and so perhaps I should register myself or somewhat. This I will do if someone will guide me. Meanwhile, I will set Dacianna down somewhere soft and let her sleep. I would not be adverse to a few winks myself, but I must be sure that she doesn’t go off by herself, because, well, in your ear . . . Ah! never mind. I just hope there is no where to shop along this road. This Wizard she . . . well, in your ear, I have visions of boxes and sacks full of folderol that I shall be expected to fly from place to place. Once again, however, one does not argue with a Wizard, if one is wise, and Gabi . . . he is nothing if not wise.

Cu sinceritate,


Pegasus Saga (3)

PEGUSUS by Right (3)

I am sure the steed of light
is used to riders anxious to be
off and gone,
but I settled back against a mossy stone
and played with a sprig of thyme.

"I doubt you have ever been
to where I wish to go," says I;
and gained Pegasus' full attention --
of one eye grey,
the other green,
and quivering nostrils
in between.

"and I'm not worried that you can get there,
but …," I trial off.

Of my future flight attendant,
I did not sense any change;
but it seemed that the silence grew heavy
as other, unseen beings hovered near.

I continued unafraid,
"my fear is that you may not return,
it being so beautiful and all,
and I'd be stranded, or delayed;
and me not being immortal like you,
well …"

I cannot describe the welling of emotion
that rippled over me, for I (and thee)
cannot mix curiosity, compassion and indignation
in a snort --
of mirth, with echoed laughter --
but also something else beyond and through.
Pegasus offered me friendship,
and everything was answered.

"All I ask," I sent a thought-song;
"Is that you bring this experience to me,
if I ask too much of trust and fancy;
for I would gift this place to you
for evermore --
to rest and enjoy

Pegasus seemed more of a colt
as he settled into the meadow grass
now resplendent with flowers
and bees chanting mantras.

The waving fir tips brought a message,
"as it will be --
everywhere and at all times."

I knelt and whispered in his ear,
"gather then to me
the Vale of Shernai."

(to be continued)

Weekend Two

I am glad a day trip was planned for Sunday after the pressures of the Saturday visit. I really believe Mr. Andrews enjoyed his visit and even thought about staying for dinner. Until he found out he would have to help fix it! Everybody works around here. As he was leaving we had a chat on the front steps. He said that he would have some nice things to say in his report. Without getting upset, having been expecting something like this, I said that there would be no report. He had come in an unofficial capacity and as a guest. There are strict laws protecting the privacy of the girls. I intended to enforce them. He left in kind of a huff, but turned and waved from his car.

We drove up into the woods to an Episcopal Campground where they have Sunday services all year round. Everybody that wants to brings an instrument to play and any semblance of a regular religious event is lost in a collage of hymns, spirituals, personal affirmations and food. I thought it would be a good introduction to the up-coming Gypsy party.

I deliberately took the girls around and set (sat??) them in empty spaces next to strangers. I rested in the fork of a tree and watched. Normally Jade would look around and try to find her friends. Since this was "church" she just looked straight ahead. Coral turned and pointed to a squirrel playing on the altar, but quickly caught my frown. 'quoise somehow wound up with a squirming boy in her lap. Wish I could draw like some of you ladies. Everything is trees and split logs and pine needle paths and a lake making me squint. There may have been preaching. I couldn't hear for a boy trying to play a French horn next to me. The girls didn't ask any questions so I guess nothing was confusing. 'quoise found the "monks" over by the garden.

Food is pot-luck and all the girls had helped make deviled eggs and celery sticks with peanut butter. I wandered over to the tables early to put little blue flags on the dishes that Coral shouldn't eat and missed some of the singing. When I got back to the forest chapel a kind of Conga Line had formed with everyone holding hands and weaving around the benches and stumps. Coral was pounding on a drum as big as she is and I could hear 'quoise singing deep and off key. Jade broke the line and pulled me in. I don't remember most of the songs but at the end an old man looking about 90 sang "I Believe." On the trip back Coral asked why the man had cried when he sang.

I think they are ready for Gypsies.


Paper Doll Gypsies

Here are some Gypsy dolls I created with hand painted papers and gold trim. They will entertain us at our festivities with a special dance.

Friday, October 21, 2005

Augustus and Moonbeam in Court

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Augustus and Moonbeam have been called to present themselves before the court. Judging by the looks on the faces of everyone I am not sure if their altercation with Bamboodle has won them such praise from their peers.

Raven Alert

With everyone gathering at the Gypsy Camp Baba's antique treasures are unguarded. Her watch dog is sleeping and the spider's are making their webs. Lucky someone is ever watchful. These antiques would have great appeal to robbers who know the symbolism of these priceless objects.

Pegasus Saga (2)

This adventure will now be moved to
the NIGHT RIDING blog where the
gifted flights will take place.

but to call you there ...

PEGUSUS by Right(2)

There is a place that I would go --
a whimsy perhaps or pulsing draw on soul,

Yet I am not sure that mystical wings
of dream steed, here empowered
can fetch me there --
(when you said anywhere
you were not prepared for me)

So I entrance a test spin first,
an appraisal of my worth and readiness
more than gifted flight of Pegasus;
for magick is of believing, most assuredly,
and I must call on knowing.

So I perform the ancient call again --
hands folded as in Kalbadam,
mind searching for the spirit cord
that silver binds to Source and all,
fretted at that hidden spot
'tween third eye and heart pulse …

a single note -- not of earthly scale …
and he comes!

He senses my mischief --
tossing silver head and impatient forehoof,
gossamer mane asweep with stars
and watching faerie eyes …
unable to leave, as is his want,
but bound by the command --
the right that I have claimed.

"and where would we go?
is the whisper on the silent breeze.

(to be continued)

Soft Prompt

Aletta's poem stirred a memory,
as oft the caress of art and poassion --
and I plucked this from the tree
of mused creation.



Ah, the love that draws to celebration,
kind and of kind diverse and fantastic;
of romance and fam'ly and ever friends.

Is it just fancy or of fantasy --
always true in want of desperation --
to share, convey -- wishing magick real?

Then to know -- to be touched by love,
to find that this magick is from within
and all along and only found in me.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Love is never lost

Someone I consider a dear friend also lost her mother today, I sat and sketched this and wrote the first poem in living memory, I'd given up on ever writing one. This is for all who've lost a loved one recently.

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What is lost,
Oft returns.
in life renewed

What good fortune,
Mankind can,
Hold memories,

All who once
began a legacy,
now ripple through eternity.

Moonbeam and Augustus - Part Three

We started off early the next morning, well rested after a good night's sleep. Moonbeam was especially frisky while Augustus was his usual, quiet watchful self. I always thought when I looked at him that he was miles away, in the deepest of thought.

This morning, like the one before it, was magical with the dew-covered cobwebs and God beams drifting down through the trees as if pointing our way.

The morning passed slowly as we meandered along the trail, stopping here and there to admire wild flowers, trees of many varieties, rocks, and the twists and turns of the trail and the effects of light and shadow.

We were discussing the possibility of stopping for lunch when the ground beneath our feet started to shake and rumble.

"Oh, no, an earthquake!" I said, my voice pitched to an unnecessarily high level. I had lived through a couple when I was in San Francisco and although they were short lived in time and arrived without warning, they were scary.

Moonbeam stopped in her tracks and turned to look at me. "I-don't-think-so," she said, turning to look at Augustus.

He held his head high as if sniffing the air. I wondered if donkeys had a keen sense of smell, and if so what were he and Moonbeam aware of that I was not?

"Bamboodle is on the war path," Augustus said. Moonbean nodded agreement.

"Who or what is Bamboodle?" I asked as the shaking became ever more pronounced and fear mounted in my gut.

"Bamboodle is a dragon, a fire breathing, wicked dragon that eats donkeys for breakfast and humans for lunch."

"Well, then, let's high tail it out of here."

"Too late," Moonbeam said, "look over there.

A figure emerged from the shadows of the trail in front of us, one of a huge, green dragon whose fiery breath reached almost to where we stood, transfixed by fear and the sight of such a monster. This was no fairytale dragon. This was the real thing.

"Get off me," Augustus ordered.

"No, I feel better here, on your back." My voice shook like jelly in a bowl.

"Off me … NOW."

When I hung on tighter, Augustus reared and dumped me most unceremoniously onto the ground.

I don't know how she did it, but Moonbeam managed to dump her load, too. Then the two donkeys placed themselves between me and the dragon.

The ground was shaking so much now that the leaves were falling from the trees, and the lone pine tree was dropping its cones. I was bonked on the head by a few. I couldn't even say ouch because I was so mesmerized with fear, mainly for Moonbeam and Augustus who looked so small and frail in front of this monster dragon.

"Get away, run … fly … you two move it … you don't need to stay here." My voice was weak and shaky that I'm sure the donkeys couldn't hear me, and even if they could, they had other things on their minds. As the monster drew down on them they appeared to communicate. The next thing I knew was that Moonbeam stepped closer to the dragon ... so close that his fiery breath appeared to be only inches away from her.

I could believe what I was seeing. Moonbeam appeared to be dancing … jumping and pirouetting all over the place, and for the moment confusing the dragon that was not used to such erratic behavior from his breakfast food.

Meanwhile Augustus moved to the dragon's flank and aimed a well-placed kick to his chest, and for just a moment knocking the wind out of the beast. When Bamboodle turned to see what had happened, Augustus had already moved to the other side and placed another well-placed kick to the left side of his chest. Again the wind was knocked out of the dragon and for just a moment his fire faltered. All the while, Moonbeam's gyrations were becoming more pronounced and all the more confusing to any self respecting dragon. Augustus dashed back and forth, kicking and braying his loudest. After many rounds of this behavior, the dragon's breath was labored, so much so that fire went out altogether. He turned away, skulking toward the shadows with his tail between his legs. He was a sorry sight, this mighty dragon falling over his tail and with the fearsome fire gone. The two brave donkeys looked at each other, raised up on their hind legs and gave each other a hoof equivalent of high five.

By this time I was so weakened with fear that I couldn't get up … when I tried to rise my legs just gave way beneath me.

Moonbeam and Augustus approached me and knelt beside me while I hugged and hugged them. The only damage they appeared to have sustained was singed manes. These two were my heroes … how could I ever repay them for saving my life?

"Would you like dragon for lunch?" Augusts asked.

"Grilled or fried?" Moonbeam added.

"Thank you," I said, "but I've had enough dragon to last a lifetime."

©October 20, 2005

Pegusus Saga (1)


I called him up once, long ago,
(Pegasus I mean)
in boyish zeal and just because I could --
after being told how by the little lady
I helped across a street
that wasn't there (another story).

He looked just like the drawing
in an old book on mythical things --
that is, he looked just as I imagined,
which was OK because I wished
to go to an imagined place --
anywhere but home.

He was mighty big back then
and I could only get mounted, it seemed,
by making a stack of teetery things
I'd left lying around and unattended,
and somehow told of a lack of confidence
and I decided not to go just then.

Perhaps it is time to try again …

(to be continued)

BabaYaga, I Can See Your House From Here

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