A Room of One's Own, III
Telling Stories

Tilly's prayer at the end of a very long winter

Waiting for spring, 1

Please come, Lady Spring. Bring sun, soft rain, and mud gentle under paw and foot; swell the streams and wake the Wild Ones from their sleep. Oh, please hurry and come.

Waiting for spring, 2

I am dreamimg of grass river banks and bird song; of bluebells, stitchwort, pink campion; of tender young bunnies that I...umm, will not chase. And lambs. And I won't chase them either.

Waiting for spring, 3

I am dreaming of warmth, and doors standing open, and roaming from house to garden as I please. Of lounging near our front gate and bar- ....umm, not barking at all who pass by.

Waiting for spring, 4

Please come, Lady Spring, and bring Summertime with you. We didn't see much of her last year -- perhaps she's forgottten the way to our hill. So please bring her along, with her sweet peas and foxgloves, her salt sea winds and her cool woodland shade. But if Summer can't come yet, please come by yourself, and I'll keep you good company here.

Waiting for spring, 5

Winter was fun, but he's outstayed his welcome, sitting soused by the fire and refusing to budge. Our wood stocks are low, our spirits need thawing, my thick winter coat has now started to shed. Please come roust him out, send him back to the northlands. Please come just as quick as you can.

Waiting for spring, 6

I'll show you my hillside, my best spots, my secrets. You can sleep in my dog bed and share all my treats. Your favorite flowers are almost in bloom now. The bird choir is gathering, and my People have set you a place at the table. We're ready. I'm ready.

Please come.

Waiting for spring, 7Happy Spring, Festival of Ēostre, Easter, Passover, [insert your celebration here], from all of us at Bumblehill.


Love your blog and photos Terri, especially the ones with Tilly in them. No idea how you get her to stand statue in your shots - I can't get my black Labs to do the same!

I've been photographing her since she was an eight-week-old pup, so she's used to it now. If the camera is out and I say "Tilly, wait," she knows if she stands or sits still for a moment, she'll be rewarded with a tasty treat. So she's only too happy to oblige.

Some shots you see here are entirely candid, simply snapped as she goes about her day, or her rambles during our walks together. (And a percentage of these, of course, end up as a blur of dog-in-motion.) But other photos start with "Tilly, wait" ... and then end with a happy dog bounding toward me, eager for her modelling fee.

Two pictures of a poser-in-training:



Oh thank you, Tilly (and her Boswell, Terri). Could Lady Spring resist that plea? Impossible!

I agree with Tilly that the Lady has taken her time and more...but this morning the skies in London are blue, the clouds fleecy, and the wind has gentled from raw to fresh...I think the Lady has maybe slipped in through the backdoor this season instead of making a grand entrance.

A blessed and dancing spring to all!

amen to that.

although, i'm noticing you at least have the *suggestion* of green in your neighbourhood...whereas we are still a murky brown. but at least the white is (mostly) gone.

i don't see how Lady Spring could resist that lovely face...

i am wildly in love with your woods. *sigh* and that signpost? *swoon*


Oh Tilly I hear your prayer and echo it. Just outside my window is a sliver of blue sky and a snippet of sunshine. There are bustling birds all a quiver with anticipation. Maybe they know something we don't.

Spring is there, she is just being fashionably late this year.

No poem needed. It is already there--your dog, words, the path, invocation, and the bone at the end.

Happy coming, happy greening, happy spring.


Happy spring to Tilly and Terri
We go to sing songs to the whales today who come here to the Salish Sea for their feasts and greening.

Dear Teri and Tilly

I pray Lady Spring makes a hasty visit to your corner of the world. These photos are priceless and evoke memories of my own childhood growing up in the Hudson Valley region of upper New York State. My mother's homestead had those moss-covered rocks, the forest stream and those overlapping trees. I shared the magic wonder of that "green wood" with a canine companion called Tammy. She was a German Shepherd and loved to explore the tangled pathways of the wood and dip her nose into the brook, often nudging some annoyed minnows and occasionally a frog or two. So Thank you for the stunning photos, the poetic prayer and the ability to revisit my own past.

My best

I remember when Tilly arrived and we've watched her become a noble being of the moor. I began photographing my cat when he was a kitten. Being a cat, he doesn't listen but he is aware of being noticed and seems to like it. How close to us and yet how mysterious they are.

that beautiful plea could only have been written by a dog - Terri you are becoming a fluent translator!!

now if our two feet of snow would melt I would be happy. My sap is rising and I have a dragon in my belly who is trying to behave.

Amen indeed!

Even in Firenze, it's barely above 10'C and raining, too. Brrr!

Did you realize how Tilly's prayer fell into a beautiful, natural, chanting rhythm towards the end, from 'Winter was fun but he's outstayed his welcome/sitting soused by the fire and refusing to budge...'?

If you break the lines as you might in a poem and read it like one it goes 'dum-di-di-dum-dum-di-dum-dum-di-dum dum, di-dum-di-di-dum-dum-di-dum-di-di-dum.' or something pretty close. Lovely!

With love,

A :)

The whole thing can be read as a poem/chant, if you read it carefully. The rhythm is there throughout, if you look for it. I know this because I read it out loud to my Tilly-look-alike pooch, Pepper. We haven't got spring weather yet here in the Canadian Maritimes either.

Thank you, Tilly, for a lovely prayer and forest wander.

I love imagining Winter sitting soused at the fire and refusing to budge. For once I am hoping that Spring will have the strength soon to entice him away to some snow festival up north, having just got my plow bill for this month, he's definitely not welcome to drop anymore snow here!

Dear Tilly, Amen.

Tilly sends a big "thank you" to everyone.

Firenze! Oh, beautiful, beautiful Firenze. Lucky you, rain and all.

Thank you for a breath of what is to come and Why I paint. Coming out of almost a year of grieving for my mother who died in my arm's last Mother's Day. I feel like I am awakening from a coma and experiencing things all new again. I haven't painted or written since she died and now I feel stirrings. Your words are like a salve to my soul. You have touched me dee

There are a lot of folklore traditions that say it takes "a year and a day" before you start coming back up from the Underworld of grieving the loss of a loved one. I've found it to be true in my life.

I think losing a mother is particularly hard--even for those of us with difficult mother/daughter relationships, so I can only imagine how hard it is to lose a mother to whom one is close. I still feel shaky each year on the anniversary of my own mother's death, and it's been almost 12 years now. I wrote this post about her on the 10th anniversary of her death:


I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Barbara, and glad you're feeling the stirrings again.

Give old Winter a boot up the backside and send him SOUTH...and his younger brother Autumn as well! We are well over summer down here and in need of rain and green springing things. Autumn is already late and if Winter is still dozing by Tilly's fireside then he's going to be way behind schedule!

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