the last official day of the holiday season dawns gray and cold, but i hear a wistful catbird calling in the trees. the ebb and flow of Ordinary Time beckons like a balm.
today i take down the tree, pack away the ornaments, and haul the tree itself out to dry for next year's yule log. today i plan my calendar, sort through paperwork, take one last breath and pause before the plunge. i am mostly better...i'm finding the last vestiges of the cold a good reminder of of the need to maintain nuitrition, rest and exercise.
the end of the season was traditionally marked in britain by a feast presided over by the Lord of Misrule - the Fool. and like the Fool, i perch on the edge of this next cycle, peering off into the distance, my dogs nipping at my knees. and again i ask myself ...
what am i manifesting?
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be!