every single time I turn this blasted thing on it turns itself off again. . . I'm reading another rather excellent book (not as excellent as The Lacuna, but still well worth picking up) (if the life of a teen as recalled by a grown-up is something that is relevant to you)
and I've ditched knitting and crochet for my summer keeping-my-fingers-busy-activity: the beauty that is an Ehrman tapestry. . . at the moment Magic Forest: actually, it might be Enchanted Forest, I'm not sure. . .

which reminds me of this. . .

A song of enchantment I sang me there,
In a green-green wood, by waters fair,
Just as the words came up to me
I sang it under the wild wood tree.

Widdershins turned I, singing it low,
Watching the wild birds come and go;
No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen
Under the thick-thatched branches green.

Twilight came: silence came:
The planet of Evening's silver flame;
By darkening paths I wandered through
Thickets trembling with drops of dew.

But the music is lost and the words are gone
Of the song I sang as I sat alone,
Ages and ages have fallen on me -
On the wood and the pool and the elder tree.

Walter de la Mare

I hope you have some enchantment
in your day today



Christopher said...

I was going to say I do sympathise, in a past that's growing ever remoter I've met women about whom I made the same complaint, but then I thought no, I'm not going to sully this chaste blog with suggestive inanities so I will just compliment her on her impeccable taste in reading, cross-stitch (if that's what it is) and furniture.

Dave said...

It does eem to be enchanted, for the scene changed between the first picture of it and the second.

Anonymous G said...




Mel said...

We bought a fairy house for the bug!
How's THAT for an enchanted deal?! :-)

mig said...

Not till I read the Walter de la Mare. And saw the enchanted cushion :)
And then followed the link - ooh such richness. I want the Rousseau jungle!