The Crossing.

…and let us not only beautifully dream but achieve in beauty. Let the ignoble pass and the nobel remain.

~ Fiona Macleod.


The Weaver Of Snow

The Weaver Of Snow by Fiona Macleod

In Polar noons when moonshine glimmers,

And the frost-fans whirl,

And whiter than moonlight the ice-flowers grow,

And the lunar rainbow quivers and shimmers,

And the Silent Laughers dance to and fro,

A stooping girl

As pale as pearl

Gathers the frost-flowers where they blow:

And the fleet-foot fairies smile, for they know

The Weaver of Snow.

And she climbs at last to a berg set free,

That drifteth slow:

And she sails to the edge of the world we see:

And waits till the wings of the north wind lean

Like an eagle’s wings o’er a lochan of green,

And the pale stars glow

On berg and floe…

Then down on our world with a wild laugh of glee

She empties her lap full of shimmer and sheen.

And that is the way in a dream I have seen

The Weaver of Snow.

Valley Of Silence

Valley Of Silence by Fiona Macleod.

“In the secret Valley of Silence no breath doth fall; no wind stirs in the branches; no bird doth call: as on a white wall a breathless lizard is still, so silence lies on the valley Breathlessly still.

In the dusk-grown heart of the valley an altar rises white: no rapt priest bends in awe before its silent light: but sometimes a flight of breathless words of prayer white-wing’d enclose the altar, eddies of prayer.”

Droplets Of Memory.

I have so many fond memories bursting and jostling in my mind for attention, demanding to be written down and recorded. So many things that I have wanted to write, before they eventually dissipate, evaporating, either into the air, becoming lost forever, blown as whispers upon the winds, or drowned, merging once again as one in the depths of the ocean.

They beg to be given another life, another form to be. So I create this for them. A little place for each one of them. Little individual stories that make up the whole.

Twelve years on Crete, so many beautiful moments, good times, dear, beloved people, many magical moments, encounters and experiences. Here is where I shall express them, as little droplets as they fall. 

I shall begin with a quote of Beauty, apt for my cause…

“A sudden fragrance of violets in an unexpected place, a last fragrance of memory.”

~ Fiona Macleod – The Dominion Of Dreams