Busman’s holiday

mk 164***

We started talking pretty much as soon as my guest wandered down this morning. About the same time coffee was made and Ani brought the first of the tennis balls.

By the time we eventually got round to going out it had become quite apparent that the stuff we have been working on will continue to be worked on while he is here. Which is wonderful. The fertile sparking of thought, realisation.. and mainly lunacy… is a constant delight. We didn’t stop talking, or laughing, till he went to bed. Nor did Ani stop with the balls, all the time we were in.

***

mk 117***

We’d had a gentle day, really, revisiting some places we have wanted to spend more time with, poring over medieval art, myths and legends. Enjoying the contours and history of the landscape around us as the sun shone in a clear sky and the red kites wheeled overhead.

We had begun with the old town. Then, being lunchtime, there was the historic King’s Head for a little refreshment in the courtyard of the ancient coaching inn, where the mounting block that may have helped Anne Boleyn to horse now holds only flowers and memories.

***

mk 123***

We wandered to Chalfont St Giles, where Milton completed Paradise Lost, and where we found a summer village beer festival on the green. But we had come for the incredible medieval paintings and were gifted with the sight of pale yellow hollyhocks growing against the flint walls of the church.

But most of the afternoon was spent basking in beautiful light in a tiny church we both love, and sitting in the shade of one of its trees and watching the kites, magpies, ravens and sparrowhawk play in the azure heavens.

Dinner was once again an al fresco affair on the deck in the pleasant warmth of the evening, lingering over cheese and a rich purple Syrah from Languedoc that tastes like the essence of France in a bottle. Honestly, much as I love France, and much as I had been looking forward to seeing my friends in Scotland, on a day like this there is nowhere I would rather be than here in the green of England.

***

mk 205***

We have laid plans.. fairly vague and very flexible… for the next few days. We intend to visit some beautiful places… and photographs will, of course, be taken…the camera and I have become somewhat a standing joke now.

My guest went to bed some time ago.. I am just waiting now for morning when I can show him the wicked pic I caught of him.

I believe he called me an evil hobbit…

***

 

HEART OF ALBION

Stuart France & Sue Vincent

Unwittingly drawn into the mysterious and magical landscape of The Initiate, Don and Wen pondered the visual language of symbols, stumbling across revelations and realisations that would alter their perception of the age-old stories they thought they knew… tales that entwine across the tapestry of time.

A hilltop steeped in tragedy, a child whose eyes see too much… a Word-Weaver’s birth into darkness… strange forms shimmering on the edge of vision. They learned to walk the Living Land, listening to the whispers of Earth memory and the ghosts of the most ancient past. And from those tales, another line of communication opens as they explore the folklore, legends and traditional tales handed down, from heart to heart, over the millennia.

As the two friends travel between the sacred sites of Albion, they discover stories that tell how the leys were made, the true origins of the hill-forts and the reason why Father Fish had breakfast in Slug Town.

Striding across this landscape of myth are the giants. From Cerne Abbas to the top of the Beanstalk, from Camelot to the Castle of Maidens, how and why is their presence stamped on the Living Lore of the land by their seven-league boots?

Join Don and Wen as the adventure continues, un-ravelling its mysteries and the magical relationship between Albion and its people.

Available in Paperback and for Kindle

via Amazon UK, Amazon.com and worldwide.

Posted in Life, Love and Laughter, Photography | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Keep out

Broughton (40)***

Day one of the holiday began in blazing sunshine and ended in the garden, under the stars and over a rather nice bottle of wine.

Broughton (85)***

We managed to get into our painted church and spent a good long while with the medieval wall paintings, the ancient books chained to the lecterns and the glorious jewel coloured stained glass.

***

Broughton (27)***

Then, of course, there was a pub… a 17th century  coaching inn, in Woburn, after a landscape full of hundreds of deer.

And eventually back to pasta in the garden… with a rich, red wine sauce that I had left brewing all day, a wonderful Fleurie, a lemon meringue pie.. and a small dog, hugely excited to have a captive tennis ball thrower.

We talked till the wee small hours, watching the bats and the stars… and the dog still played ball.

But one of the highlights had to be the sign on the ancient tomb….

***

mk 009

***

 

HEART OF ALBION

Stuart France & Sue Vincent

Unwittingly drawn into the mysterious and magical landscape of The Initiate, Don and Wen pondered the visual language of symbols, stumbling across revelations and realisations that would alter their perception of the age-old stories they thought they knew… tales that entwine across the tapestry of time.

A hilltop steeped in tragedy, a child whose eyes see too much… a Word-Weaver’s birth into darkness… strange forms shimmering on the edge of vision. They learned to walk the Living Land, listening to the whispers of Earth memory and the ghosts of the most ancient past. And from those tales, another line of communication opens as they explore the folklore, legends and traditional tales handed down, from heart to heart, over the millennia.

As the two friends travel between the sacred sites of Albion, they discover stories that tell how the leys were made, the true origins of the hill-forts and the reason why Father Fish had breakfast in Slug Town.

Striding across this landscape of myth are the giants. From Cerne Abbas to the top of the Beanstalk, from Camelot to the Castle of Maidens, how and why is their presence stamped on the Living Lore of the land by their seven-league boots?

Join Don and Wen as the adventure continues, un-ravelling its mysteries and the magical relationship between Albion and its people.

Available in Paperback and for Kindle

via Amazon UK, Amazon.com and worldwide.

 

Posted in Life, Love and Laughter, Photography | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

Summer holiday

D&T 172***

Today is the first day of my long awaited holiday.

Except I’m still here, at home, skulking in the shade and bandaged.

I could wail and moan.. but honestly, is that going to do anyone any good? The sun is glorious, it promises to be a hot and beautiful day. The roses are resplendent in the garden… and even if the weeds are laughingly creeping in again under my nose, taking advantage of my current inability to do much about it, the garden is lush, green and full of life.

***

ORC broch 024***

So this year it can be a wilder garden than usual and winter will tidy away what I cannot. The bees are loving it.

I will not, though, get to see my friends in the north, which was a wonderful part of our plans. But they, and Scotland, will still be there when I do get up there.

So I have decided that I am on holiday anyway this week. It is, after all, as much as anything a state of mind. The clock does not need to rule my days, the routines of everyday life can be set aside whether I am at home or away… they’ll still be here when I get ‘back’. This week is time out for the mind and a change of pace for the body. The imagination, fuelled by the mutual lunacy of friendship, can be allowed to play in foreign fields, even if my feet do not stray far from my doorstep.

***

ORC broch 015***

My travelling companion arrives today and we are going to play out in the landscape, history and heritage of the south instead. Well within reach of my hospital appointments and rather more sedately than tearing around Scotland. It is, after all, a beautiful land, both north and south, rich in myth and legend, with a story hidden around every corner. There are new landscapes to discover, architecture to explore, fairies under every bush and ancient inns in which to talk about them, and everything else under the sun, over a nice cold cider.

We will begin this afternoon with a more leisurely exploration of one of the painted churches we discovered. Our first visit was a fleeting one, with a dash to the station looming. If we can get the key on a Saturday afternoon to this decommissioned jewel it will be good to take the time to read the stories that have looked down from the walls for over five hundred years.

***

D&T 171***

If the keepers of the keys are not at home.. well, the world is our oyster and we can wander at our leisure, making an adventure of the coming days. The cameras are charged and the sky  luminous. There is wine in the kitchen, good cheese in the fridge and dessert in the oven… all of which are unusual enough to make the day feel like a holiday, even before breakfast.

Let’s see where the adventure leads…

***

 

HEART OF ALBION

Stuart France & Sue Vincent

Unwittingly drawn into the mysterious and magical landscape of The Initiate, Don and Wen pondered the visual language of symbols, stumbling across revelations and realisations that would alter their perception of the age-old stories they thought they knew… tales that entwine across the tapestry of time.

A hilltop steeped in tragedy, a child whose eyes see too much… a Word-Weaver’s birth into darkness… strange forms shimmering on the edge of vision. They learned to walk the Living Land, listening to the whispers of Earth memory and the ghosts of the most ancient past. And from those tales, another line of communication opens as they explore the folklore, legends and traditional tales handed down, from heart to heart, over the millennia.

As the two friends travel between the sacred sites of Albion, they discover stories that tell how the leys were made, the true origins of the hill-forts and the reason why Father Fish had breakfast in Slug Town.

Striding across this landscape of myth are the giants. From Cerne Abbas to the top of the Beanstalk, from Camelot to the Castle of Maidens, how and why is their presence stamped on the Living Lore of the land by their seven-league boots?

Join Don and Wen as the adventure continues, un-ravelling its mysteries and the magical relationship between Albion and its people.

Available in Paperback and for Kindle

via Amazon UK, Amazon.com and worldwide.

 

Posted in adventure, albion, Books, Life, Love and Laughter | Tagged , , , , | 25 Comments

Turning the wheel…

P1020544

I looked at my car tonight, thinking how beautiful her lines are in my eyes. She is, undoubtedly, past her best, her engine is a little tired and uneconomical to bring back to optimum performance, the work she needs no longer financially viable, at least for me. Really, she needs an enthusiast to spend time and skill with her to bring her back to what she should be.

I can feel the road through her chassis, every bump, every mile, every bend. This is not necessarily be a good thing, you may say. You are probably right. I quite like it. She responds to me and she, the road and I have a wonderfully intimate relationship.

Virtually anything will pass us on a fast road these days, not because she isn’t capable of speed, but because, being a little old lady, I am gentle with her. She is robust, reliable and very special to me for many reasons. But, I know that one day very soon, she and I will have to part company. I cannot afford to do her justice.

Yet, of course, I love the little old lady. I cannot imagine getting rid of her and replacing her with something newer, possibly more practical, with less miles on the clock and an engine I can play with. Even though I know I would enjoy a car with, perhaps, greater comfort, better performance and with roof seals that don’t leak on me when the rain comes at a specific angle.

This car fits me like a glove. She cuddles me when I drive her and I get a thrill of joy every time I get behind her rather shabby wheel, even now, after so many years and tens of thousands of miles. Another car? I cannot imagine it.

Have you ever wondered how much our emotions and fears are based on imagination? We anticipate a scenario in our minds, peopling it with characters and scripting in fantasy what they are going to say, yet when reality actually arrives, nine times out of ten, it is utterly different from what we have pictured.

We then enter these imagined situations in a state of predetermined terror, feeling a very real fear, physically and emotionally, and we react accordingly. We may find ourselves, depending on our nature, being deliberately on either the offensive or defensive, intent upon meeting head on a situation that exists, in fact, only within our own minds.

The spider doesn’t eat us whole, the dentist is not a homicidal maniac, the interviewer not bent wholly on uncovering every skeleton in our family closet. The new car may, in fact, be a joy.

Yet we build these fears for ourselves with utter familiarity and, quite frequently, an absolute disregard for logic.

Odd, isn’t it?

We manage to convince ourselves of awful and terrible possibilities without the slightest hesitation. Yet a modicum of common sense would show how ridiculous we are being.

Then, of course, there is the obverse effect which we seldom notice, let alone use. How about if we harness that same power of imagination to create positive scenarios? We do it occasionally, even though we don’t realise it.

Christmas morning as a child is filled with excited anticipation. So is a first date, a long awaited reunion, the birth of a child… Here, too, we see ourselves in imagination right inside the situation, revelling in the moment and the gift of joy that it brings. We have already decided the outcome of the event before it begins, consequently we go into it already feeling the predicted emotion and handle the situation in a far more positive manner.

So, instead of looking at what I will miss about my little car, I am going to start looking at all the things I shall enjoy about her replacement, starting with how nice it will be to be able to use the accelerator pedal with confidence and panache, rather than gentle concern.

I have had and driven a good many cars over the years, This little baby is the first one that ever captured my heart. My first love affair with wheels. Who knows, I may fall in love with the new one when I find it, all over again, and find, that like any first love, the next is better, deeper, stronger, and the last is the best of all.

***

 

THE INITIATE

Book One of the Triad of Albion

Stuart France & Sue Vincent

The Initiate is the story of a journey beyond the realms of our accustomed normality.

It is a true story told in a fictional manner. In just such a way did the Bards of old hide in the legends and deeds of folk heroes, those deeper truths for those ‘with eyes to see and ears to hear’.

Don and Wen, two founding members of a new Esoteric School, meet to explore an ancient sacred site, as a prelude to the School’s opening event. The new School is to be based upon a nine-fold system and operate under the aegis of the Horus Hawk.

The trip does not unfold as planned.

Instead, Don and Wen, guided by the birds, find themselves embarking upon a journey that will lead them through a maze of spiritual symbolism, to magical mysteries and the shadowy figure of the Ninth Knight.

As the veils thin and waver, time shifts and the present is peopled with shadowy figures of the past, weaving their tales through a quest for understanding and opening wide the doors of perception…

Now available via Amazon worldwide.

Paperback UK     Kindle UK    Paperback Amazon.com    Kindle Amazon.com

Posted in Life, Love and Laughter, Spirituality | Tagged , , , , | 12 Comments

Fire-fox…

***

The wind was bitter… the first flakes of snow mingled with the rain as we crossed the ridge. It would be a long, cold night, in spite of the flame that burned on the western horizon as the sun sank into the earth. We followed the lights, seeking shelter in the village, a little way beyond the Field of Sheaves.

***

***

Moon-rise was still hours away, but even so, a pale ghost of music drifted on the wind. This was the place… our mysterious informant had been correct. All we had to do was wait. Crowds were already gathering… shadowy figures, face and form concealed behind scarves, hats and turned up collars… and a darker figure still that ran amongst them.

***

Moving fast, indistinct, no more than a blur of midnight feathers, he towered over the assembled company. Crow held the dancing ground as an age-old battle was about to begin…

***

***

A distant flash and the sound of drums filled the night. Village streets illuminated by an eldritch glow… silhouettes etched against the reflected flame…

***

***

The Foxes did not look out of place… the night of the Hunters Moon is theirs to dance. The cars and trappings of the ‘real’ world, however, seemed an intrusion. A lone driver entered the street. I saw his face aghast, as if he had stumbled into the Other-world. He turned and fled.

***

***

Crow did not flee… wings wide in challenge, he confronted the skulk of Foxes, who met him with flame and defiance, harrying him to the dancing ground.

***

***

Around and around, with torches singeing his feathers, Crow was harried… until the Silver Fox arrived. There could be only one outcome. Crow disappeared into the night… and the dancing of winter into spring began.

***

***

At Hunters Moon, the winter comes. We had felt its first, white touch. The Foxes dance beneath the rising moon to mark the passage from summer to winter.

***

***

It is a celebration, meeting darkness with light, cold with warmth…

***

***

At Hunters Moon, Old Fox holds the throne and Young Fox will contend with him for the prize… it is the way of Nature, the way of renewal, echoing the journey to spring.

***

***

The Foxes watch as this ancient rite of life, death and rebirth plays out. From the eldest to the youngest, each one plays their part, touched by magic and mystery.

***

***

Yet all is not well. As the dance draws to a close, an ancient foe appears, its scales glittering green, its teeth white as the bones of earth… The legendary Wyrm has awoken.

***

***

Breathing flame and fear, its sinuous body writhes infinity, curling upon itself as the Foxes defend their new home. Ousted from their old home by the Demon Dogs, they will not be beaten… the Wyrm turns and retreats. For now…

***

***

Triumphant, the Foxes dance once more, then one by one, they disappear into the night from whence they came, leaving behind them something of their flame and magic, reflected in the eyes of the watchers, young and old.

***

***

The final flames light the sky, the watchers turn to see the Hunter’s Moon, its brightness dimmed by celebration… and when they turn back, the Mister Fox is gone.

***

***

I have seen them write in fire on the darkness…

and heard the drums beaten with flaming brands.

Where do they come from?

They come out of the night…

Where do they go to?
Back to the night they return…
They dance in the dark to pipe and drum and fiddle
They dance in the dark with fire and brandished flame…

No-one knows who they are…
But why do they dance?
What is the story behind this magical spectacle?
There are rumours, legends…

***

collage

***

Mister Fox – The Legend

Mister Fox and the Demon Dogs

Mister Fox and the Green Man

Mister Fox – Winter’s Tail

***

*

Posted in adventure, Dance, Photography | Tagged , , , , , | 19 Comments

Ordinary joys…

the triumph of horsenden 059***

My friend has been duly delivered to the coach station and I am home, having a coffee before tackling all the housework, going to my son’s and packing a bag for morning.

Tomorrow I am in hospital for surgery to try and get some answers, and hopefully a solution,  to the problems that have been bothering me for some time. It would be nice to think the surgeons can sort things out.

I need to fix the fence too, blown down in Friday’s winds. So far Ani has not investigated too closely, but as Stuart is no longer here for her to play ball with, jump on, cuddle and generally monopolise, I am a little concerned she may see the possibilities and I am not going to be up to chasing madam through the village fields if she escapes.

***

the triumph of horsenden 052***

There is a lot to do, the ‘ordinary’ life has to take precedence today, yet my mind is buzzing  with ideas and images of the weekend’s adventure in the green and gold of the landscape. On the table lies a tiny bit of glory. It looks like a small clump of feathers, but in reality it was a gift from the morning, unexpectedly glowing with iridescent rainbow colours.

In many ways this typifies the past few days, where simple appearances, ancient places and mellowed stone have opened their hearts and shown unexpected joys and wonder within. They had always been there, but it needs the heart to see them as well as the eyes.

***

hill of vision 030Red kite feathers found at ‘Kim’s Castle’ and later eaten by Ani!

***

It is so easy to get bogged down in the necessities of the mundane, allowing rote, worry and habit to fog that inner vision so that the innate sacredness of life and the world through which we walk is forgotten. This weekend was a clean wind blowing through and reminding me of the sanctity of even the smallest of things.

***

the triumph of horsenden 062***

Walking in sunlight, on hills dotted with wild orchids and cowslips, fragrant with wild thyme and oregano, where the grass is starred with the pure white petals of wild strawberries, it is easy to remember that our ancestors knew the earth as the body of a goddess and saw all things as holding divinity within. A sacred spring, the healing waters sparkling in the dappled gold as they have done for centuries, perhaps millennia, washes away the scales from the eyes and reminds me of the continuous thread of life of which each of us is a fine, silken strand, needful in the pattern of the greater tapestry of existence.

To hear the kites cry overhead, above the hills in the morning and again over my home as I prepare to address necessity once more, reminds me that there is no difference between those days outside of time where we let the land carry us on wings of imagination and the times where duty and need call us back into the humdrum routine. The world does not lose its sparkle, nor life its sanctity. We forget to see it, our attention called back to the little things that make up our days, not realising, perhaps, that even in this we are part of a greater life and that joy and beauty await only our awareness of them beneath the simplicity of appearances.

***

hill of vision 013The image which became the cover for the first edition of The Initiate.

***

cover of the initiate linking to amazon

***

The latest edition…

THE INITIATE

Book One of the Triad of Albion

Stuart France & Sue Vincent

The Initiate is the story of a journey beyond the realms of our accustomed normality.

It is a true story told in a fictional manner. In just such a way did the Bards of old hide in the legends and deeds of folk heroes, those deeper truths for those ‘with eyes to see and ears to hear’.

Don and Wen, two founding members of a new Esoteric School, meet to explore an ancient sacred site, as a prelude to the School’s opening event. The new School is to be based upon a nine-fold system and operate under the aegis of the Horus Hawk.

The trip does not unfold as planned.

Instead, Don and Wen, guided by the birds, find themselves embarking upon a journey that will lead them through a maze of spiritual symbolism, to magical mysteries and the shadowy figure of the Ninth Knight.

As the veils thin and waver, time shifts and the present is peopled with shadowy figures of the past, weaving their tales through a quest for understanding and opening wide the doors of perception…

Available via Amazon worldwide.

Paperback UK     Kindle UK    Paperback Amazon.com    Kindle Amazon.com

Posted in Life, Love and Laughter, Photography, Spirituality, The Silent Eye | Tagged , , , , | 23 Comments

Through new eyes…

the triumph of horsenden 065***

A weekend exploring the landscape in my local area draws to a close in a few minutes. My friend is in bed, I sit here glowing pink because I caught the sun today. It was glorious weather and we have spent the day on the Chiltern hills.

***

hill of vision 037***

It has been one of those times when, were I to tell you all about it, it would seem very simple. We have walked a lot, talked even more, laughed and shared ideas. Yet I have, for the first time in all the years I have been living here, truly opened my eyes and, more importantly, my heart to the real beauty of the local landscape.

***

hill of vision 036***

I have been thinking about it today a fair bit. When we first moved to the area, the family explored together, noting just how pretty the place is… a quintessential English landscape and undeniably lovely. Yet it never touched me deeply. I suppose I was homesick for the high and wild places and all I had left behind. There were many lovely places I noticed over the years, but few I actually got round to exploring once the exigencies of life took over.

***

hill of vision 012***

However, over the past few weeks I have been able to share with friends this landscape I know so well, yet have truly known so little. And that was what set me thinking. What made the difference? The sharing, I think, for starters. My friend’s delight in the green glory made me aware of what I was seeing through his eyes and allowed me to see it afresh with my own.

***

the triumph of horsenden 019***

I have known about the beauty, I have little favourite pockets of it that I visit, yet today I climbed hills I have seen but not stood upon before, found ancient places I barely knew existed, and learned to appreciate their unique beauty. In seeking out these places to share, I saw them. In making that heart to heart connection with the land itself, it seems to have opened up its arms, with a ‘well, finally….’

***

the triumph of horsenden 049

***

With fresh eyes I have images of beauty to take into the night, gifts given by the land and the sun, not captured on the camera, but seen for the first time through the lens of the heart.

***

 

THE INITIATE

Book One of the Triad of Albion

Stuart France & Sue Vincent

The Initiate is the story of a journey beyond the realms of our accustomed normality.

It is a true story told in a fictional manner. In just such a way did the Bards of old hide in the legends and deeds of folk heroes, those deeper truths for those ‘with eyes to see and ears to hear’.

Don and Wen, two founding members of a new Esoteric School, meet to explore an ancient sacred site, as a prelude to the School’s opening event. The new School is to be based upon a nine-fold system and operate under the aegis of the Horus Hawk.

The trip does not unfold as planned.

Instead, Don and Wen, guided by the birds, find themselves embarking upon a journey that will lead them through a maze of spiritual symbolism, to magical mysteries and the shadowy figure of the Ninth Knight.

As the veils thin and waver, time shifts and the present is peopled with shadowy figures of the past, weaving their tales through a quest for understanding and opening wide the doors of perception…

Now available via Amazon worldwide.

Paperback UK     Kindle UK    Paperback Amazon.com    Kindle Amazon.com

 

Posted in Life, Love and Laughter, Photography, Spirituality, The Silent Eye | Tagged , , , , , | 16 Comments

Cow…

cow

***

Protected and serene, the stream of life flows from her breast,

Within her sheltered warmth her starry children safely rest.

Her lowly form oft overlooked, conceals the Mother’s crown

In heaven’s vault the arc of stars her diadem and gown.

Her gift is freely given, from her nature takes its course,

And through her boundless nourishment we drink from Nature’s source.

***

Green man cover finalfront*

Available on Amazon worldwide

in Paperback and for Kindle.

Posted in albion, Art, Avalon, Books, Don and Wen, Folk Tale | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Wolf…

 wolf 002

***

Run wild, run free and know the touch of wind upon your back

Yet freedom’s totem knows it has a home within the pack.

Part of a greater life, yet still at ease alone, he stands

And casts a solid shadow on the dark and lonely lands.

He knows the old and learns the new to walk a pathway free,

And listens to the inner voice that whispers how to Be.

***

Green man cover finalfront*

Available on Amazon worldwide

in Paperback and for Kindle.

Posted in albion, Art, Avalon, Blogging, Don and Wen, Folk Tale | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Hare…

 

hare 001 ***

Most subtle of the shifting forms and yet most constant too

Whose moonlit transformation cannot change the heart that’s true.

He hearkens to each season’s turn and reads the twilight air

And listens to the inner song that knows both foul and fair.

Between two worlds he journeys and in both he can be seen

In adoration of the moon yet always clothed in green.

***

Green man cover finalfront*

Available on Amazon worldwide

in Paperback and for Kindle.

Posted in albion, Art, Books, Don and Wen, Folk Tale, Mythology | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment