Weavers of a Web

​

Where had the magic gone?

Approaching the top of the hill, I stood for a moment catching my breath and looking down at the view below. A wonderful view of green fields stretching for miles to the distant hills. Fields broken by hedges making the land look like a patchwork quilt in different shades of green and gold depending on what was growing in the fields.

After a while thoughts flittered around, just like the wind gently blowing the leaves on the tree above, flittering in and out with the rustling sound of the leaves.

Why couldn’t I quite capture my thoughts, grasp them, and make sense of them? I feel like a butterfly, all skittish, my thoughts flying, here, there, and everywhere but never quite landing.

The trick, I remembered, was to stand still, stand calmly and let all blow around, hold out a hand and the leaf would gently drop into outstretched fingers if it so wished. Oh why had I forgotten all that?

Now I remembered and managed to grab one of my thoughts. Remembering the very first time I walked up here. Climbing not the lane that time but the footpath meandering up and through the woodland. A narrow footpath of mud and stones leading through the green leafy trees and going more gently up the hill, sliding its way up and round the sides of the hill, rather than the more direct route of the lane.

And so Lydia’s journey began, a journey through time and discovery to find magic. Come read Lydia’s journey through the land of Glastonbury and the Isle of Avalon.

​

​