dormant magic

These are long slow days. Heat swells the hours, makes them cling to the walls of my cottage and the walls of my throat. I write nothing except a sentence full of winter and wild cold. I drink tea, although it makes me hotter; and listen to the gulls that cry restlessly of over-bright waters and too-dry skies; and keep on waiting for rain. It may never come.

In the sweaty grey of the evening, I water my garden very carefully, so that I don't bruise the flowers or miss the roots. Some days, its the only time I go out. The house is clagged up with heat, but the world outside is worse. I need willow shadows, short travels, a breeze from any direction, just to survive it. I need stories to add depth to the lustrous world. But there are no stories to be found - they have retreated into dark caves of old, cold silence beyond the edge of things. Perhaps it is the same place the small birds go for most of the day. Every wild thing is waiting for rain.

I read today about a mile-high tower due to be built in Japan. And I thought of the people already living in white sky cities. They don't experience weather. They have air conditioning, heaters. Do they care that birds are exhausted and thirsty, trolls have sunk back into weedy brown waters, liminal things are shrivelling?

lake trolls

I suppose many of them won't care because they don't believe. Their stories are polished, self-relevant. Do they read old books of dust-smell and strange tales from way back when the world was all edges? Do they dream the stars they can no longer see? What does climate change mean for people who live with canned weather?

The low-down wintry part of me wonders if the loss of bone-songs, smoke-songs, and prayers from folk who now live in the sky, all sophisticated, keeps the seasons from coming in their due hour.

Perhaps Old Woman Winter is oversleeping in the silence.

(overgeneralising about people for the purposes of dramatic licence)


  1. Our weather is completely opposite at the moment, soft blue skies, a touch of frost but beginning to feel springlike and, cool but beautiful and a pleasure to be out in (now the rains and winds have stopped). Sorry you are suffering from the heat still but you do have Autumn to look forward too soon surely. Hope the rain falls soon.

    1. Unfortunately, we don't really get autumn here. Maybe a month of it at the most. The muggy heat continues on right through April. But we are hoping for storms next week.

  2. exactly this.

    are there enough of us out there, i wonder, who do care for the old songs, the bone songs, and who dream the stars we cannot see?

    i have been wistful lately, too, for a world that was.

  3. My heart goes out to you right now. Although it's not here yet, the hot humidity is on the way. I find it suffocating - and even more so because though I DO have air conditioning, which is helpful - it still makes me feel caged in the canned air. To hat to go out - too closed up to stay in. I can barely think when it's like that and I tend to huddle in and turn zombie. People tell me I can't let it stop me - to get out and enjoy the sun and the warmth. I tell them they are speaking to a winter soul, and I'll be back with the clouds.

  4. Yes, we have lost so much so quickly in our pursuit of "progress", most of all our connection to All, which is ironic considering how much of progress has been about increasing the speed of communication.

    Old Woman Winter is wide awake, just now, in New England. ;) It is -7° and snowing lightly.

    Wishing cooling winds and rain for you, dear Sarah.

  5. Hope you manage to find some lovely, cool, shady spots. Beautifully written.

  6. As always, a beautiful post, Sarah. Praying that you get some relief from the heat when the rains come.
    Here, in New York, we've had a mild winter with moderate temperatures and rain instead of snow. It allowed for us to get outdoors often. I love living in an area where we experience all four seasons in all their glory.