Garden Green

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
the song of the birds for mirth,
one is nearer God’s Heart in a garden
than anywhere else on earth.

Dorothy Frances Gurney

Lilies

Far up a hill in Edinburgh City are acres of garden.
I headed up one sunshiny day
escaping the din of castles, pubs and tourists.
Tranquility was far from me,
my mind too busy, too full of deadlines.

Continue reading

Princess Celestine

img_0777

The old woman spun her silks in moonlight, and in the warp and weft, a story was written. Some believe a person’s story cannot be changed. But restless fingers can pick at the threads, and what was written becomes changed forever. That is what happened to the story the old woman was weaving of the Princess Celestine of Gothmidland, who was favored by the stars, and intended for Prince Elgar the Northman. A thief’s fingers picked at the threads, and her story was changed forever.

One day, the Princess Celestine boarded the ship, Starspun, headed for the shores of Northland. At that moment, the ship’s Captain was off buying barrels of oranges from sunny Spain. A thief cut his purse strings, but missed his money. Captain Ferdinand had cleverly hidden that under his waistband beneath a thick leather belt. Instead the thief made off with his gold astrolabe. The oranges were duly delivered, and the Captain returned to his ship without noticing his loss.

Meanwhile, the first mate had been so busy yelling at the ship’s boy, Leo, to carry the Princess’s bags, and bowing repeatedly to the beautiful princess that he failed to taste the water being siphoned into the tanks below the deck.

Princess Celestine admired the last view of Parvenue Harbor as the ship passed out of the narrow opening into open water, not knowing that she would never reach her destination.

Continue reading