It came, now it is memory. Our house was once again full of good friends, helping us celebrate the turn of the year.
My digestive tract is tender from the feasting.
My fingers are sore from playing instruments.
But my heart is warm from all the good things it has shared in.
Now the big old house seems empty and quiet. But this is good too; that is the beauty of festival and feasts- they punctuate the ordinary with the extraordinary. They bring us together to celebrate in excess; excess of food, of drink, of friendship, of loving, of laughing. But they can not last for ever, for what feast ever can?
The weather has been stormy and wet. On one day we ventured in the pitch dark and heavy rain up into Pucks Glen with torches to watch the cascading waterfalls foam white in the darkness.
But here are a few photos from another walk. I share them in gratefulness for my friends, family and the beautiful walk we make together…