"All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay

Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air

       And playing, lovely and watery

               And fire green as grass.

       And nightly under the simple stars

As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,

All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars

       Flying with the ricks, and the horses

               Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white

With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all

       Shining, it was Adam and maiden,

               The sky gathered again

       And the sun grew round that very day.

So it must have been after the birth of the simple light

In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm

       Out of the whinnying green stable

               On to the fields of praise."

   from Fern Hill

   Dylan Thomas

and possibly my all time favorite poem.

                                          

We did stay with Helen's mom at the farm

while we worked on the cabin.

Below is a photo is of Willow Two, the first Willow appears on  

the banner for this website and was a great friend of mine.

We often took long walks together and my very sentimental

poem Paths was written for Willow

Willow Two while physically 

similar is quite different behaviourally for one she will

not go very far with me on a walk, she also is quite a 

hunter and kills even the Garter Snakes that come her way

I did manage to get one away from her while I was there

but it can be a bit disconcerting to find pieces of them.

I suspect both traits may stem from the fact she has some 

Great Pyrenees blood which would make her more territorial

and a home body. She is a lovely dog however and we get 

on well.

I do love the fields and skies of the farm and thought 

I would share some photos.

 

 

 

 

Paths 

                        “Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,”

                                                                        Tintern Abbey

                                                                                          William Wordsworth

Time was I did not walk this path alone, but words uncounted

can not tame the world to hold your shape once more.

Gone now, so very gone while I await some future call.

But until then I am here, remembering a questing spirit,

who pads the pathless night, the trackless starfields,

the wild aurora, thru the great winding fields of light.

When called, will you return by way of these tamer fields

so that one day we may take that walk together?

                                       Guy