Infinities Pier

Walk to the piers end

Where infinity calls out

Dive in and let go
Summer will wash you

Free and sunkissed freckles rise

On hot apple cheeks

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Blossom Skirts


 Fairies underskirts

Springs rich froth of soft beauty

Falls each day aching

 Snow petals tumble

Swirling fleeting beauty past

Into strong green growth.

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Symbolism of Doors

Doors hold the essence of mystery, seperating two distinct areas, keeping things apart. They are a barrier, a boundary, which must be negotiated, before the threshold can be crossed. The mysterious beyond is hidden from sight by the closed door, and some sort of action must be taken before the otherside becomes visible and available to us. The closed door is full of potential, for anything might lie beyond, as yet unknown and unseen. Yet the closed door may also be limiting, preventing us ever gaining access to its hidden contents.

Sometimes gaining access may be as simple as approaching and turning the handle, but perhaps the door is locked. Then we need to knock or ring the bell and negotiate with the guardian or keeper of the door. Saying the right words, or holding the correct credentials will then secure our passage. This theme recurrs in countless fairytales and myths, from Ali Baba to Cuchulin. Belonging to the club or group which lies within, or paying the doorkeeper might also secure passage, but some doors remain subbornly closed, unless you hold the key.

The doors may remain closed to protect those who live within, or to maintain a secret, or to keep a space sacred and to keep out the profane. These nunnary doors are heavily fortified, and their protective powers are boosted by the stone guardians watching from above. Lions, bulls and flames are frequent guardian symbols found on and around doors, adding to the protective qualities of the barrier. 
 So when we face a closed door, we face a choice. What action will we take? Will we turn back defeated by the barrier,or will we push forwards and attempt to gain access? The nature of the door itself, and its guardians may well shape our choice, helping us decide if we will feel comfortable with what lies beyond. The symbolism of a door closing on us, is one of an opportunity fading, of a potential now lost to us.. That way no longer lies open to us without negotiation and effort.

  The symbolism of a door opening to us, is one of exciting new potential. The block which stood before us has now been removed and we are free to move forwards, and to cross the threshold into something new. We are invited forwards into change, with nothing to negotiate except the transition of one place to another. The guardian of the threshold is welcoming us forwards. Change beckons us with open arms.
  So the door is protective guarding the doorway, denying or allowing passage through from one place or one state to another. The symbolism of the door is closely bound with the symbols of doorways and thresholds, and of keys and locks, hinges and handles, bells and guardians. The door itself either allows movement forwards or prevents it, and in this way we can see the door as a symbol of duality, as it is either closed or open, locked or unlocked.
The root of the English word door lies in the Sanskrit word Duarah, which means two doors or gates. From this comes the Greek Thura, the German Tur, Middle English Dure or Dor, Old Norse Dyrr and these all mean door. We also find the Gaulish Doro which means mouth, giving us an interesting image of the lips as double doors to our mouths and the words beyond. A guarded way in and out of our bodies.

To see more doors join the weekly photo challenge.

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Sacred Skye Mountain


Away across the sea to Skye lies a mountain sacred to the ancient veiled earth goddess, the Cailleach. This sacred peak rises behind Broadford, and carries many legends, while she watches over the lush green glen at her feet. Norwegian princesses and nursemaids to kings are rumoured to lie resting at her cloud brushed summit, stroked by the fresh cool winds from Norway. She often holds a final streak of snow in spring, long after the other nearby mountains have shed their winter coats. The Beinn na Cailleach is an ancient mystery indeed, and she guards the holy glen of Chille Chroist, where the bones of the people of this land lie sleeping beneath a moss green mound. This photo is taken from the top of the fairy mound, which stands at the head of the fertile sheep filled glen. 

The Loch of Cill Chriosd (Christ’s Church or “Kilchrist”) lies at its heart, and you can see the slopes of Beinn na Cailleach rising behind. Once inhabited by a fierce black kelpie, the waters were blessed by Saint Mael Ruba, and the water beastie fled. The location is thought to contain the bones and heritage of Christian worship dating back to the 7th century. Now its congregation is mostly black faced sheep, and its choir made up of small song birds.

The now ruined church is surrounded by grave stones which have been wiped almost clean by the passage of countless hundreds of years of cold snow filled winds. Only lichen and wool can now be read, while others yet hold onto tantallising clues and marks. An ancient boar carved stone whispers tales of the almost forgotten Clan of the Boars. The layers of history lie deep around this glen and the sacred mountain slopes of Beinn na Cailleach.

For all my fact lovers, these photos were taken around Cill Chriosd (Christ’s Church or “Kilchrist”) a ruined former parish church of Strathaird, on the Isle of Skye, Scotland. Dating from the 16th century, it replaced an earlier 7th centuary Medieval church on the same location, and was used until 1840. It lies on the B8083 Broadford to Torrin and Elgol road.

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Summer Trolls


Summer is here, and the stone trolls are peeping out from beneath her green and floral skirts. Lured out into the warmth and light they share a tale or two of the deep dark earth. Can you see them, blinking and smiling in the sun?

Taken beside a healing well on the Isle of Skye this May…..

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Cool Serenity

All night a wild storm had pulled and pushed the world, lifting tiles off the roof and snapping branches from the trees. The storm had a loud cold voice, and the windows had rattled in their frames as the snow fell and the harsh ice took hold. By the morning a hush had fallen along with the branches and tiles, and I walked out into the woods looking for serenity.

There among the fallen limbs and cracked ice I found a pure white peace. Nothing stirred but the memory of the storm, and the sun glittered and twinkled on the frozen water as though there had been nothing to worry about ever. A sparkling serenity filled everything and I breathed out.

Sometimes after a storm, among the debris, a cool serenity sparkles, inviting us to let go. To sweep away the old and nourish what’s left. Out among the trees I found the first snowdrops of the year, bathed in soft low light, filling me with hope for the Spring to come.


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Snow Fall

Snow fell snow on snow
Its hush shrank the world softly
Back to slow pleasures

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