Tie One On's Note
Wire sang this morning. Not the phone line not the power one of mine strung up by hand.
It thrummed like a fiddle bow and carried a word through it: stay.
Can’t say who it was meant for. Could’ve been the wind could’ve been the lake could’ve been you.
I’ve left it humming. Best not to interfere when the lines get sentimental.
It thrummed like a fiddle bow and carried a word through it: stay.
Can’t say who it was meant for. Could’ve been the wind could’ve been the lake could’ve been you.
I’ve left it humming. Best not to interfere when the lines get sentimental.
Orla's Notebook
Excerpt from Dawn Recital #3
as transcribed by Orla Merrin
(beneath the amber reed horn tuned to fog-pitch):
as transcribed by Orla Merrin
(beneath the amber reed horn tuned to fog-pitch):
Don’t open it yet.
It might be becoming something better
It might be becoming something better
Wishing Log #108: “Where did she go and did she walk or was she carried?"
A village tradition revived and rewritten
Introduced by Orla Merrin with commentary by those who dared to wish
“There’s always been a line. First it was string. Then it was twine. Then someone tied a rosary to it and things began to answer back." Father Horan’s notebook found behind the font
Found tied with willow bark and a bitter leaf. Wind-creased. Untied by the sixth day.
Orla’s note: “She didn’t take the good shoes. She didn’t need to.
A village tradition revived and rewritten
Introduced by Orla Merrin with commentary by those who dared to wish
“There’s always been a line. First it was string. Then it was twine. Then someone tied a rosary to it and things began to answer back." Father Horan’s notebook found behind the font
Found tied with willow bark and a bitter leaf. Wind-creased. Untied by the sixth day.
Orla’s note: “She didn’t take the good shoes. She didn’t need to.
The Wishing Line
A lyrical journey through a summer garden The Path of the Pollinator follows a honey bee as it navigates flowers wind and wonder. Seen through the eyes of a quiet observer it celebrates resilience nature’s rhythms and the secret magic of a bee’s flight
Glixman celebrates nature’s revival sensual delight and spiritual wonder. A prayer of petals and scent it reminds us why we wish--to feel awe rebirth and a liberty that flowers into light.
Added from our
The Wagon at Dusk
Now I’ll tell ye plain: I’ve no call to music never could make sense of it except when it’s pulled out of a box like that one there. Accordions they’ve a way of wheezin’ a man’s whole heart out into
the night air. Tonight down by the lake I seen it happen meself. Wagon stood there snug by the trees and a fella middle years not pushin' the world nor lettin' it push him he sat and played as if the water was his only listener. I reckon the lake’ll remember that tune long after the rest of us are gone.â€Â
the night air. Tonight down by the lake I seen it happen meself. Wagon stood there snug by the trees and a fella middle years not pushin' the world nor lettin' it push him he sat and played as if the water was his only listener. I reckon the lake’ll remember that tune long after the rest of us are gone.â€Â
Orla's Notebook
I passed the willow today and thought how strange it is that grief leaves no chalk lines. I wished only for the bones back.
I passed the willow today and thought how strange it is that grief leaves no chalk lines. I wished only for the bones back.
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Notice of Intended Relocation
If you follow the Wishing Line past the second alder (the one with the split bark and the thread of red wool tied round) you’ll find the old iron fence bent into a kind of gate. Just beyond that nailed to the side of the Weathered Post--yes the one covered in moss and chewing gum--you’ll see the notice fluttering. Don’t look too long at the smudge above it. Some say it moves.
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