Your spirit, lover

No you’re not a project

You’re perfect as you are

There’s magic in your mess

And dark between your stars

Your universe can balance

Without its tenterhooks

You’ve left yourself the clues

In the margins of my books

You can read my pages slowly

You wrote them anyway

Though I cut out and rearranged them

Your spirit, lover, stayed.

On grief.

I love this time of year. November is my favourite month. I love Samhain and Remembrance Sunday and the turning of the seasons. I love the dark nights and the crisp mornings and the woodsmoke. Facebook memories tells me that 7 years ago today, Paul and Ally and I went on a pilgrimage to remember dad. Along the way we stopped at the Rod & Line pub in Tideford to see the plaque they put up for him. I think that the fact that I know my birthday (24th Dec), Christmas and the anniversary of his death (the night of 26th Dec) are right around the corner helps me to love November. I know that the hardest time of my year is right in front of me and somehow that makes me extra grateful for November. This wasn’t always the case, grief never leaves you, but it changes. Time can do almost anything, and I think that November reminds me how much is possible and how far we’ve come. Perhaps this pilgrimage 7 years ago helped with this. 

Over the next few weeks, let’s remember that for many people, the prospect of Christmas brings up grief and loneliness and let’s be gentle with each other.

 

Did you dance on the beach today?

Mum (just now, without a hint of self-consciousness): Did you dance on the beach today?

Me: No? What makes you think I may have danced on the beach?

Mum: Well - you were there by the waves and you took a video of them.

Me (laughing): Why does that mean I danced on the beach? Is that how you see me? That I just go to places and start dancing?

Mum (also laughing now): Well, no...I suppose that's what I do.

Me (laughing even harder): Yes.

Mum (a little indignant): Well you were with Julia's heart! 

Me (still laughing): Her family home is there. We walked around the cliffs to Harlyn and back. I did sing a bit, but we didn't dance on the beach. I love how you think that's the logical thing to do in this situation.

Mum: I just do a lot of dancing. 

She's such a legend. ✨😍 

Winter in the Valley✨🍂🍁

The light is as yellow and low as the sun

And I notice the length of shadows

The tribe hunkers in

To snuggle, eat and sing

And anticipate Yuletide to follow

The village is hushed, the tourists have gone

The air smells of woodsmoke at night

Hugs become bumper 

Through layers of jumpers

And the frost turns the moorland to white

The biggest night out of the tribal year 

Samhain, we dance and we laugh

We whoop and scream 

And let off our steam

And gossip in the aftermath 

Then Remembrance for boys who gave up their lives 

Our own chief, we’ll all hug him tight

Remembering when 

His brave absent friends

Sat proud to his left and his right

The seasons turn prompt in this here red valley 

Our Green Man has long since retired

Indian Summer’s

Officially over

When the landlord lights the pub fire

Softness and wool and velvet and sparkle✨

With a party dress worn underneath

The valley has mist

The air starts to nip 

Gathering greenery for my Yule wreath

Reunions, euphoria, stories and smiles 

Been upcountry but ended back here

Take stock with our kin

I’ll get the drinks in

We made it! To another year!

🍂🎃🍄🍁