A Reprise

I have changed my journal template into something so cold and professional that I really cannot even bear to look at it. I would like to return to making my own journal layout from scratch, but there are some new style technologies I need to catch up to, and this isn't the point in time for me to be scratching at web code, though I have been doing good about learning other things. Actually, I have had a vision about combining this journal with The Magic Circle . That journal is still in my old layout style and cannot take advantage of any  new web features, but I feel like these journals are sisters, and actually, there is a third sister, that is becoming so real and so essential to my self-expression I am thinking of bringing that journal into it too. They need to be three separate journals, but I would like to see them joined, affiliated, or even on the same page in two (or three) columns. Is that mad? But Blogger took away FTP posting, so combining these journals on a sepa

My heart yearns, and it reaches. I find myself in a place where the only truth is silence. I feel like I have ascended upward into another room, and this room is empty because I have not yet populated it with thoughts and feelings. But I could not stay in the previous room any longer. Something made me move. It would be wrong to say it is ambition, or that this room is better than my previous room. It is more like the other room is just not mine any more. It is an old thing, a memory. I yearn and reach toward life, and in the old room there is not life. I feel like I spoke of this before, but I don't have time to go through this journal and find it. I have a feeling I said it a couple of years ago. Maybe more, maybe less. Time is frightening. It's grave. I will come across something perhaps I have not updated for a year, even though it will seem like mere weeks. Or two or three years will pass. Today is gray and lonely. Somehow I am not hurt by it though. Somehow I feel

With infinite care Oriente leafed through the old diary, which had been lovingly hand-sewn with thread. Pearls or some sort of bead had adorned the cover, but they had long since been lost. She laid aside the journal with a strange feeling that transcended the clinical atmosphere of her work room. It seemed profane to touch the journal with white cotton gloves or view it beneath a dim fluorescent light. She had never believed in ghosts or considered their existence in a meaningful sense. But she felt that someone was speaking to her now. She was a stranger to love or friendship. Those sentiments, she felt, belonged to a gentler time, like the time when this girl had lived. This was a fast-paced era, not a time to write one's heart into a journal or literally fade away from love. And this was not a time of friendship. She considered herself a listener of friendship. She had overheard many friendships, and she had been invited into friendships with other women. When she looke

Roses , a photo by ladyhildegarde on Flickr.

First light , a photo by ladyhildegarde on Flickr. It looks like today may be as yesterday was. I noticed this morning the moon is waning at about 50%.

Morning , a photo by ladyhildegarde on Flickr. I've never seen so many blackbirds around the house before. Their cries sound like hundreds of rusty hinges all at the same time.

"Yellow Woman and a Beauty of the Spirit" I thought hard about re-recording this, because at times I feel like I'm being too forthright. ;) But I decided to keep it for the passion and sincerity, and of course there is Olive's cameo.

We would be in perfect sympathy, perfect understanding.  It is the tragedy of my life to have missed her sweet presence by mere months.  If I had come those months ago before the Markgraf had become engaged to Adelia, would he have married me?  Delphinia ceased her scrawl, laid down her pen and took up her cane, and paced the room. She might have wished to guard her private words from the sights of others, but she was too distracted to think clearly. The open pages lay on her desk as moments later, she pulled her shawl from where it lay at the back of a chair and wound it around her, stepping from the room. Like an unloved person the natural scene outside had grown starker and crueler at winter's onset. It was impossible to behold the gray, still scene without a shiver. It was pitiless without even one shriveled brown leaf clinging to a branch. It was tea time, but the sky was already darkening. Lamps were lit in the hallway. Up ahead in the gloom Delphinia could see

I don't remember at all! I'll just have to make something up.

Diary 2012 , a photo by ladyhildegarde on Flickr. Started today!