riverflow and rain

At last, a great wingful of rain swept over us, and the world cooled. Summer will return probably this afternoon, but my garden and my heart are grateful for the whispery, pale repreive. The ground is darkened, the sky is soft and plump and eased. This is how it's meant to be. Change, moderation, balance. Dark and light, summer and winter. Sighs and laughter. Work and rest. The frightening conditions in Australia and Christchurch right now prove how too much summer is not at all a good thing.

Later today, issue two of Suburban Magic will be distributed to those who so kindly donated to our fundraising. (As I mentioned the other day, subscriptions will remain open, you will be provided with back issues.)


20 pages

1. Fishing For Stars With a Creek Dragon
2. The Bunyip's Silence
3. Winged Light
4. The Hollow Night

As I write this series, I struggle with sharing so much from my strange and secret heart. It helps to have had people say they feel the same. My essays have made them feel less odd - their feedback has made me feel less odd. I am grateful. Once, most people believed the way I do, but society has become so sensible. If nothing else, I hope my little collection of essays will at least provide a different perspective on the wild places in suburbia.

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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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