a spark of gray

i've been an admirer of Sylvia Linsteadt's blog The Indigo Vat for some time now.  what drew me in initially was her work with wool, but i stayed for her lush descriptions and photos of the wild bay area she loves.  her combination of deep ecology and myth with lyrical writing is just enchanting...  she has also written for the Dark Mountain Project, most recently an essay called Turning Our Fairytales Feral Again.  so when she started a "wild tales by mail project," called the Gray Fox Epistles, i was curious - how odd to have a newly-penned story come via snail mail!  i couldn't resist the analog appeal.

i came back home to the first three epistles all at once.  the presentation is gorgeous, complete with animal tracks and lace lichen, seeds and petals.  it took me a couple of days to devour them.  these are not just stories, they are deep universes of imagination, history, animal knowledge and innovative prose.  so much more than i expected and so nourishing to my wild-deprived soul.  i've been tired of all my usual interests...  but these stories, they are the first thing i've come across that lit a spark for me, made me want to learn and think and move and maybe even write again.  

i have a good friend who said to me once, "there's no wild any more.  there's just captive and captor."  she is a wise woman, and i accepted her pronouncement, depressing as it was.  but Sylvia and the Gray Fox have made me see that there is still plenty of wild, out there and also within, maybe just out of reach, but strong and coursing in, through and around our man-made mountains.

giving thanks

some of my nearest and dearest have made and sent the most thoughtful gifts...

such a generous surprise from Heather, who knows my feelings about trees..

we studied them together.

she even contacted my hub to make the arrangements. 

i was so moved by this gift to the earth!   

and not long after the worst, I received

"Fairy dust" by Handstories (embiggen to see all the dust!)  

all I had to do was mention faeries, and off she went!  

it even includes a fragment of Grandma's sheet 

(and there aren't many people who can say that!)

it softened my heart and made each day a little easier to bear.

and then such preciousness blew in from my dear Dana of Leililaloo, 

who knew from across the pond how much I needed gentle care.  

she even included the tree painting, below.  

there were also lovely cards, texts, comments here and facebook messages of support and love.

i'm still heartbroken, but i'm also ecstatic to have such friendship.

i feel very blessed to have such a father,

and to still have such beautiful souls in my life.

*thank you all*

things are still happening

but it doesn't feel like they are supposed to.  My seven year anniversary with my love was on the 28th.  I felt it, because I love my love so deeply, but we haven't celebrated yet.  And Beltane, the crown of the year, has passed me by as well.  I long to be a light-bringer, a blessing on this mother we call earth... but for now, all I feel is in this tearjerker of a poem by Auden.  

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Thank you to my dear friends for your condolences.  Every tenderness counts x a thousand right now.