Moonstone by Christine Bozier
Night airs that make tree-shadows walk, and sheep
Washed white in the cold moonshine on grey cliffs.
Walter Savage Landor
This beautiful print came in the post yesterday, it is by the partner of LS's brother. Christine. Keith (LS's brother) writes about ghosts, onto his second book at the moment, you can find him in my blog list under Haunted Wiltshire. I have a pendant moonstone as well, in its dark green translucent interior you can see tall fir trees a never ending forest...
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Welcome to the Moon
Welcome, precious stone of the night,
Delight of the skies, precious stone of the night,
Mother of stars, precious stone of the night,
Child reared by the sun, precious stone of the night,
Excellency of stars, precious stone of the night.
From the Gaelic
As the short days grow towards their zenith and the Solstice, and slowly the long unwinding of night time begins to turn into daylight, measuring its way towards spring, the small prayer above always comes to my mind. It kindles in me a memory at Avebury when in the early days of our meeting, maybe I should call it courtship, LS and I stood on a freezing cold night under the great stones of the Cove. We were remembering someone from the past, let us call her 'Treaclechops', for that was her avatar, who had died far too young. I shall never forget the stones bathed in the cold light of the moon, which hung above our heads, the lines of it geological unknowingness carved into its surface, just like the craters and patterns on the Didcot Mirror.
As LS's brother lives near Devizes in Wiltshire we do not see much of them, but both of them work as volunteers over the weekend at Avebury Manor, Keith as a guide of course always tells ghost stories of which the manor has a couple, the Red Lion pub further down in the village has the reputation of being the most haunted pub (probably amongst many) in England, Keith has never seen any ghosts at all though!
I think you have to be the right sort of person, and have a vivid imagination in order to see a ghost. Thankfully I don't fit into that category either.
ReplyDeleteIt is funny how ghosts revolve around a certain type of person, white ladies, black dogs, who are obviously not people and highwaymen, and of course people who have been hung from trees!
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