Crimson on the white, dark times and bright sparks.

The sharpened steel of winter's own scythe cuts through the December air, leaving in its wake the adamantine covering of ice and snow, while Geminid fires streak across the night sky, seeds from the divine to bring growth to the coming year.
Chaos consumes the ether, the best made plans are layed to waste, worlds grind to a halt as the wild hunt makes its foray into the lengthening night, collecting, gathering that which is yet to find its place in the wyrd.
Solid ground gives no quarter to the feet that walk upon it's frozen surface, the hidden holes that conspire to snap and splinter the bones of the unwary, glass like slides that remain hidden beneath a blanket of white wait in preparation to bring down the might of mankind's arrogance as it attempts to tread roughshod over the land.
Blood lies in scarlet drops upon the snow as the cockerels of The Cunning Man's own dwelling do battle for supremacy, a re-enactment of the changing tides leaves but one the victor, the other chosen by fate to become sustenance for the family, other birds both fair and foul watch with anticipation at the outcome, more aware than we could ever imagine of the fibres of fate that influence our daily lives.
Shots ring out across the winter landscape, today the earth becomes further stained with crimson as an era comes to a close, a wave of anxiety and loss follows the sound as progress dictates the value of an animal's own place in time and space, this interconnected universe still perceives the ripples that came from the loss of one this year, a rock that fell into the pool and left a great deal in it's wake, there is still much that could wash up upon this shore, how much, we are still to see.

Safe within our protected home we carry on, planned visits this week were postponed due to conditions far beyond the control of this one, only appear to be re-scheduled to a time of greater significance, a missed engagement brings instead a far greater pilgrimage, reminding me that being within fate allows us to recognise those key moments when simple decisions will effect a far greater change, if we exist without we will fail to recognise these as such and the wrong ones are then made, what is convenient is not always what we have to do.

Preparations are under way for the midwinter rites, there is excitement mixed with a touch of anxiety ( if I am to be honest) , a leap into the unknown and all that it brings, to give all that I have to her, then to wait to see what she will do with it, trust and hope that truth favours the brave, and that this fool will not end up with burned hands and a heart full of sorrow, the fire of my compass shall burn with a welcome heat in the cold darkness of this time of birth, in my heart I know that it all will turn out for the best and that fire is burning bright.

In contrast to this winter land, the house is more akin to the forest, V loves this time of year and our home is filled with as much greenery as one could imagine, if every plant brought in would bring with it its own noisy spirit the noise would deafen us all, sleep would be but another dream itself, there would be greater chance of repose within the windswept forest of pine and spruce , with the stars and the ice moon to replace the countless small coloured lights that illuminate the shadows.
As blessed as it is, the evergreen flora lets us have only a touch of its virtue and that is one of peace and welcome as would be appropriate to our dwelling, the family is set to gather in all the blessings we have, to feast and frolic as our ancestors have done for many thousands of years within this heart of darkness there shines a greater light, the brightest of lights serves to cast the deepest shadows after all.

This man has a plan (not to mention train tickets to travel north very soon) of sorts, much depends on where abouts on this spinning wheel I end up but wherever that is, I can see purpose of some sort within this chaotic yet clear air.

I hope with all sincerity that all of you that may happen upon these words will have a fruitful midwinter and a joyous one, where ever you are and whatever path you are on, and that you find whatever it is you require, take all that you may be given and give all that you have, not strictly in that order of course but you know what I mean.
May the warm fire in your hearths welcome in the new year and may that in truth be blessed also.
Oh and many happy returns LBJ.

Flax, Flags and Fodder. Tony.