taliesin's log (voices of women)

the orchard
wild, wondrous, weird ... and wicked

Voices of Women

The Orchard

(direct from the orchard)

Cymbals and seasons

2003

First roots (05/03)

2004

Sowing seeds (08/04)

Turning trees (09/04)

Underground? (10/04)

2005

Bursting out from below (03/05)

Cruel deception? (04/05)

Flower power (05/05)

Knuckle down (06/05)

Of Apple trees and synching feelings (07/05)

Eclipsed and ablaze (08/05)

Of light beyond clouds (09/05)

Harvest and rot (10/05)

Defrosting the fountains (11/05)

Difficult digging (12/05)

2006

The Janus month (01/06)

Manuals and mud (02/06)

The people, the pitfalls... (03/06)

...the peaks, and the river (04/06)

Unclouded confessionals (05/06)

Riding the roller-coaster (06/06)

Precipitate plunge (07/06)

Strong Stuff?

The Orchard is space to "think different", if at all. Life brings occasions to cease the endless flow of thought; it can be hard, but wisdom needs quietened minds to grow.
For months, during a dream of love, there were locks on the gate. Now it's open in all weathers. Space, time and mind occupy dimensions that are rarely mentioned in the music log unless musicians do themselves.
You'll find more music here, poetry, prose and pictures for people's special moments, some of my "gurus", sometimes a tribute to a friend no longer with us.
Welcome also to a workshop; other entries concern "tools of the trade" for music-lovers, and there are notes on widely used Mac software and the occasional rant at Apple and the music industry.
This is where ideas can gestate and experiments happen.
Predict Nothing.

lundi 16 août 2004

Pagan patch?
The day's grey skies in a world outside the garden, part of a planet down to 19°C, set to warm once more in the week to come, are in the pattern.
It comes as no surprise to confirm the truth of feeling in the bones.

The new moon is upon us.
This will keep me quiet today.

White Goddess Space then for Nowick Gray, though he must stay the far side of the fence:
"At dawn you shall appear,
        A gaunt, red-wattled crane,
She whom they know too well for fear,
Lunging your beak down like a spear
        To fetch them home again."
'An Homage to The White Goddess' must have a place in a secret place well hidden within the secret place, at the heart of all the garden, her roots deeper even than those of the ancient, wordless, talking trees that are her proud guardians.

She is of the Dreamtime.

10:36:47 AM    your views? []