Also encountered this while flipping around my print-on-demand copy of _The Four Ancient Books of Wales_ which are, I realized, arranged by topic and not by book… no nevermind that, but I sense something familiar here.
From:
Geraint, Son of Erbin
Black Book of Caermarthen XXII
Red Book of Hergest XIV
III. Before Geraint, the enemy of tyranny,
I saw horses white with foam,
And after the shout, a terrible torrent. Continue reading →
The things you find while researching – well rummaging for something else:
If the role of the bard is to listen to, learn about, speak and sing of spiritual realms and their inhabitants, and that of the ovate is to see them, then the role of the Druid is to enter into those worlds and meet directly with the spirits who inhabit them; spirits of nature, the ancestors, and the gods. The Druid is the walker between worlds, the shaman, shape-shifter, priest, teacher and sage of our tradition. — The British Druid Order
Chris asked for an explanation of this:
(which I, of course instantly ordered not as a hoodie but a more wearable tshirt… Guess I know what I’ll be wearing on the 17th!)
I dashed off this explanation in a little notebook that lives in my purse, totally giving me flashbacks of oh so many quilt block directions and how-to’s I’d drawn out in the days before the personal computer became such a hot ticket.
Not bad. May the Force be with you!
Thanks Chris for the great question, and keep those cards and letters coming folks!
I did a LOT of writing yesterday and got to an important plot point. Now I have to trust two more minor characters to act like they should to move the mains in the direction they have to go. The one minor character others consider a “nice guy” or at least “probably a nice guy” but the other, his wife… we remain undecided about. She’s always seeming a stickler, sort of aloof, keeping her thoughts and intentions to herself.
So we’ll see.
The story must go on though so as soon as I put away a few things… back to work.
This morning, on the way to the mailbox:
Had to give up eventually because the camera’s SD card was full and my fingers were frozen.
Well, it’s day seven of seven at work, day 15 of November, day 15 of NaNoWriMo – the halfway point in fact.
Going into the day I was behind in word count. The past couple days, with all the world events, my brain has not been in the realm of my book. I could barely get home and I was asleep. That’s not like me. On the other hand, I don’t much like working seven days in a row. Yesterday I felt like the people and noise and everything would send me to my car. I toughed it out but had to use some tricks to get through.
Anyway today, I wrote a little at lunch time. And by little, I mean, a little. After work I headed off to the normal Sunday night write-in at Denny’s and buckled down as the writing sprints started. Twenty minutes of writing, with ten to twenty minutes of socialized/talk in between. That’s a nice mix. If you’re on a roll, no one complains if you keep writing.
Talked with my booth mate and told her enough about the story so far that I could sort of see how it would have to go in the next bit. I put my noise-cancelling headphones in and my head down and my fingers on the keyboard and wrote. And I can see a big arc of the plot, a little ahead. Not what it is exactly but what it has to be about to get where we’re all going.
And then this happened.
So I took a break in this current sprint to write 391 words for the blog.
And in case anyone’s read this far:
Matt kept digging, finding a small ceramic dog with one ear, a wooden duck and a bowl full of feathers.
“Need some feathers?”
“Not today thanks.”
He found a pair of socks, a bunch of pencils held together with two strips of fabric, a purple fountain pen and a small box containing a metal replica of the King Edward’s Chair, all in a child’s red wagon. Another bin contained a set of chess pieces, several umbrellas of various sizes and colors, one wellie and a jar of spoons.
“I’m still looking,” said Matt, slapping the dust off his hands after setting down an old flat iron. “Find anything good?”
That’s all I’m saying about that.
Art is not a thing
