Peregrinations

When I looked at this picture of Powis Castle once again, I thought, "But there's no lake there? Why does the lower half of the castle look like a reflection?" It doesn't, and it isn't, but it has a quality. Yes, it does.

Read more about A Mirage?

It's a rare snowy morning in Seattle on the Friday before Christmas. Brings out the traditionalist in me. Makes me want to curl up with a good book ( or )and imagine the building of a medieval cathedral. Like this one, in Salisbury.
Read more about How to Build a Church

This isn't a rock garden. It's a yew hedge at Powis Castle in Wales.

That's Hercules, showing off a bit in the foreground.

It's a very old yew hedge.
Read more about Yew're Kidding!

Welcome back home!

Hopping in the old time machine to a Thanksgiving of yesteryear. Ahhh. Smashed potatoes. Looks like someone helped themselves to a couple or three of the brown 'n' serves. I have no idea why there's a cake. Read more about Feast 2005

Bronson Alcott's Concord School of Philosophy
Read more about Ye Olde School of Philosophy

Powis Castle in Wales has magnificent baroque gardens and treasure-filled interiors, but I fell in love with the peasants - these four shepherds and shepherdesses keeping watch day and night, in all weathers, across the years.

I never met a painted ceiling I didn't like. This is the quire at Salisbury.

"Sophie remained on Silbury Hill – the surrounding countryside didn’t look much different, except for the rough track where the highway would one day run – but she had no idea of the year. There was no sign of another living thing anywhere to be seen. Except. Someone held her hand." Ghosts of the Heart, Chapter 41

"The bristling banks of heather, whose late summer purple bloom shone wine-dark under the headlights, turned the hills as dark as the sky." Ghosts of the Heart, Chapter 38
Read more about On the Moors

Ghosts of the Heart, Chapter 35

They walked to the wall and leaned against it. Beyond them stretched the Northumbrian moors. Sophie caressed the ancient stones under her hands, thinking of the work gangs who had placed them there and the Roman soldiers who had paced back and forth on this very hilltop, keeping watch for howling blue-daubed hordes descending out of the north.
Read more about From the Wall