Reblogged from Jim Webster, aka Tallis Steelyard:
It has to be said that Laxey and I were perhaps a little too pleased with ourselves over the building jobs we’d tackled. To be fair I think that we’d made a worthy attempt at the jobs and had saved the Shrine the handful of silver it would have cost to have the job done properly by competent tradesmen. Mind you, these skills weren’t the sort of thing I flaunted with my patrons as I didn’t want them getting ideas. There is a limit to what a lady should feel she can ask of her poet. It’s bad enough being expected to rescue them from the results of their infidelities, or find suitable spouses for their offspring (who are quite capable of finding entirely suitable, or unsuitable spouses form themselves) without being expected to go up onto the roof to fix the tiles as well.
Continue reading at Tallis Steelyard
How did your granny predict the weather? What did your great uncle Albert tell you about the little green men he saw in the woods that night? What strange creature stalks the woods in your area?
Momentum brings us here, gathering sand and pebbles on our way, naively secure in our journey.
My Soul
The weather was perfect. The hike had been pleasant. They stopped for a picnic on the bank of the stream as it rushed toward the waterfall. The normally bubbling brook was swollen with recent rains. The white water speeding down the creek and tumbling over the edge was energizing. The sun felt delicious on their faces. The flowering fields were glorious in early spring.
I am a huge fan of Mae Clair, having wandered happily through pretty much everything she’s written. Take a pinch of history, a curse or time-traveling threat, a touch of the supernatural and a whole lot of mystery and you have one of her books!
A torrent came upon this soul
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 