the season of the bandaged moon

When I opened my front door this morning, a frail moon, bandaged in gauze, looked down at me from the cool dark sky. She had the sea like her shadow beneath her, full of secrets, bones. This is what I love about winter - the frailty and feralness. The being wild and slow, old and yet growing lovely buds of dreams. For me, it is a magic that must be written, not photographed, for words are my first love, my heart's native language, the ladder I wove for myself as a child so I could climb out of my private world of enchantment and engage with everyone else (and the way I can return to that world when everyone else exhausts or trammels me.) I'm sure I will return to the observational art of photography in spring, when the flowers open.


  1. I am so looking forward to the new edition of Deep in the Far Away--it's one of my favorite stories.

    Your last paragraph here expresses the feelings of my own heart.♥

    1. Also, the stock photos you choose possess something of your unique perspective...but now I can see that they are different, too.

  2. Thank you my dear friend <3

  3. instagram has never been satisfying for me...

    winter's "frailty and feralness"... that rings true. i could use some winter about now, here...



In the quiet hours, the inbetween moments and the half-light, I sometimes like to write. My books are made from fairytale shadow and old magical songs. They speak about dreams, lost wishes, longing for something beyond the self, and always about love. You can learn about them here.

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