Tunes for a Monday Morning


Sorry to hear you're still not recovered; obviously not taking enough chocolate and alcohol. I'd definitely increase the dosage.

As for your pictures; it's so easy to forget that on a tiny, crowded little island like this there are still areas of wilderness to be found. Beyond the last field and hedgerow, across the border of the garden fence it still waits for us in all its glory of brilliance and shadow.

Get well soon. I am off to school and will ponder words across the day.

As my wife Francesca and I scroll down the page this morning (your blog is a regular part of our mornings), we sre struck by the harmony of colours between the Dartmoor landscape and 'the Lady' (the Madonna del Parto). You are living in a della Francesca landscape, at least on certain misty late-winter days. You've called Tilly the 'other Lady', the other magical presence, of your hillside studio. But as Francesca points out, Terri, so are you.

As for the story today, it's surely one of quest and return, following a mythical trickster of a dog up the the twisty paths of a faerie hill and back. She's grinning on the way down. Was the quest successful, or has she just played an excellent trick on our hero? If she did, then surely it's one that the hero needed, and all will be well.

Please feel better soon.

I'm sorry you are still sick, I do hope you feel better soon.

You know I've often wondered how come Tilly sits or stands in just the right position for you to take such evocative photos!

Thinking of you walking the Path, though Tilly is less trickster and more a will'o'wisp messenger of trickster gods. She is too good-hearted to lead you astray on purpose. It is that wondering nose, those wandering feet that take you off the path. Of course, being off the path is where magic happens.Where Art awaits.

But when you are ready, whisper "Home" in her ear and she will lead you to the well place and then sit waiting for her reward.


Dear one
If every picture is worth a thousand words, you've written a quite a lovely story, articulate and finely tuned. May you be well soon.

With aching limbs and fevered mind too ill to write, you stumble out to make a way through March mist. One uncertain footstep, then another, guided over rough ground by your faithful dog: as your soul guides you through the stifling fog of illness and disease; until returning home, exhausted, spent, you fall back into bed. One hand rests, warm on Tilly’s faithful flesh. The other feels your soul beating in your breast and, knowing that between these things you will be well, you rest.

With love,

May Tilly & your beautiful countryside and a hot cup of tea bring you a bit closer to feeling better Terri...and thank you for your thoughts for my dearest departed momma. I personally want to crawl into a fetal ball for awhile and then do some traveling...blessings & love J

Terri-today is my birthday, and there are few things I love more than a path, a melange of colors emerging from mist and a companion who embodies unconditional love. Thank you for the present!

"Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon."

Rest, be well, wrapped in warm wished from the world wide...

I do hope you feel better soon! I meant to comment the other day but forgot. I've been sending healthy thoughts your way from Maine.

I think the story is that the earth is still sleeping, not yet ready to wake from winter, and your body is feeling that pull, that urge to sleep. But Tilly is stomping the paths and waving her tail and kicking up the mist.

"Hurry!" she says. "Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! I can smell the earth waking. I can hear the sun returning. Let's meet him half way, at the top of the hill! There's no time to waste. Let's go!"

A charming poem. Today is about charm.

I could look at the first picture forever. The sight of a path always does that. Take me...I will follow...
and then, a magical animal comes and though we speak different languages, we are at one in the

Got to be "The Mist Covered Mountain" Get well soon.

I hope you feel better soon. Such peace and quiet in your pictures, it seems that the soul of the world is very near in that place.

Terri, your photos are so detailed I can feel that chilly mist flowing across my face and hear Tilly panting up the path. Be well, be comforted. You are your own Muse and also Muse to so many of us around the world.

I am minded of a vast, heather-striped sweater enveloping the land, and the mist is its breath, and Tilly runs over the beating heart of the world, called onward by joy on the wind. This magic is healing you as I write....

One misty, moisty, morning,
When cloudy was the weather.
There we met a little dog,
A trotting here and thither.

Clothed in her coat of black,
She plied her favourite track.

And sniffing here.
And poking there.
And sniffing here again.

Hope you're feeling better soon. ox

These are *marvellous* responses, everyone! I love each and every one of them.

I may have to do this again in the future (though not the "getting sick" part....) as it's a lovely form of group storytelling. Tilly, of course, is delighted to be a character in all our tales.

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