The small dog, absent for far too long, is finally home. The unusual tidiness has been replaced by mayhem, the heavy silence broken by the clatter of claws on wooden flooring and the manic squeaking of stuffed toys reunited with their owner’s delighted jaws.
I liked the quiet tidiness, but…I like her presence more. I have missed the black beast, even though I know she loved her holiday, staying with her friends, just as much as I have enjoyed my own time away.
It seems an age since I last sat down to write, although it is less than two weeks since the madness began. There is so much to tell! It began with a car packed to bursting with props, costumes and a wheelchair as I drove north, heading for Derbyshire and The Feathered Seer workshop where folks were converging from all corners of this land and others. There is much to tell of the workshop. Stuart and some of the Companions have posted their accounts already and there are more yet to come. I haven’t even begun to write about it yet myself and appreciate having had the time to step back from the rituals and allow their ideas to mature. Although ‘having time’ seems an odd statement, given what we have been up to!
We ended the weekend with a visit to one of the sites that had inspired the workshop, with Running Elk and then we spent the next few days exploring the ancient and sacred landscape of Derbyshire with Alethea and Deb from America… and my son. They were very special days indeed.
Returning home, there was barely enough time to unpack the car and shoot off to the hospital for scans before we were off again; this time, heading south via Avebury for Glastonbury to stay with Alienora and share the Beltane celebrations of Avalon with Morgana and three other friends visiting from the US.
Somewhere along the way, I managed to get a horrible cold and, by the time we got to Glastonbury, so had my companion. By then, mine had become the chest infection from hell, which made climbing hills, stairs or even flat surfaces interesting. Home at last, my companion left for the north and I left for work and an overdue visit to the doctors.
We are supposed to listen to our bodies. I am none too keen on listening to mine at the moment as it wheezes, crackles and pops with every breath… but it is certainly telling me I need to stop dashing around for a week or two and give it space to heal. Which should finally allow me to catch up with all the emails, comments and contacts I have been missing and restore some semblance of order to chaos.
There are thousands of photos to process, a thousand miles travelled, so many places and stories to share…and so much sleep that needs to be caught up on! So there is currently nothing on my agenda but a bath and an early night after a long cuddle with the small dog. The meadow that used to be my lawn can wait as long as it must and the squeaky toys can occupy the floor for as long as the small dog wishes. The fish are watching attentively to ensure my continued presence as supplier of food and the robin has already been over to welcome me home.
Normality is restored… or at least, what passes for normality around here.
1 thought on “A close approximation of normality…”
Home is always where the heart is…
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