 I sit on a stone from a long time past, hands cold as my fingers dance up and down the recorder. Dried gorse rages the fire into life and our friends walk from across the way, smiling through the dark to Highland Mary. The moon glows in her halo of gold—of cold—and looks down knowingly. The pitch black sky stretches out across the glen; wide and open, long, and filled with possibility. But we… we sit in the warm embrace of this circle of trees, this circle of stones; a circle that has called us home. Juliette de Bairacli Levy (a herbalist and wanderer I greatly admire) once said that wherever she travelled there was always a little corner of land, or a simple home, available to her. Well it seems our joyful (yet unexpected) return to this croft in the Highlands of Scotland, has brought us to a corner where we can now rest our own weary feet a while. As Juliette also said: “Every land has its own special rhythm, and unless the traveler takes the time to learn the rhythm, he or she will remain an outsider there always.” It has been a while since we have felt the pull to root down, but now the feeling is so strong that as I write this my heart feels light and fluttery, yet my feet—grounded. This land is special and I am awed every day as we walk through winter in her embrace. Trees call to me, earth grasps me, and the sky envelopes me. We are still travellers, but here we are, ready to throw down anchor long enough that we may know and learn the rhythms of this Highland space. We have come to rest a while; the land says so. And so that means a dwelling, one fit for these nomadic hearts that so long to stay connected with the earth. One befitting this circle of ancient stone and tree, where robins dwell and hearts swell; where all feels drawn from each corner of our life, towards this central point. So we asked, “But what shall we live in dear circle?” And she replied, “Why, a house of sticks of course!” Driving into the Cairngorms on a day of snow and spectacular skies, we visited a man about a yurt and now the course of our life has taken shape and we have never been more glad, more excited, more in tune. As poems flow this Burns night As music dances in our circle We know we have come to rest Amongst this land and people. There is a deeper whisper There is a hidden call, And if you listen carefully It says, “Here you are home.” And so this Highland Glen And so this Northern sky Upon and beneath We will rest a while. The other day an interview I took part in twelve years ago was brought to my attention. I ended it by saying, “I don’t fear change; I embrace it. Whatever happens it will always lead to something else and I never want to live my life wondering what would have happened ‘if’ … the day I don’t follow that if, is the day I will feel that I’m not really living.” Wise words from my younger self, and so we are embracing this unexpected change and throwing ourselves wholeheartedly into log cabin extensions (facilities) and a yurt base, ready for the arrival of our new home in the spring.
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 Beneath the Wolf Moon
My heart slows And I stand Motionless Lost in thought, In darkness mixed with light Longing to meld with all that is bright. For us, solstice celebrations started with a four-hour mandala-making session on the beach with friends and ended with poetry around the fire.
The shortest day, the longest night We stand in awe of nature, With respect for all so perfectly right. Into darkness we curl in Nurturing the light that lies within Safe in the knowledge sun will come again, Just as the moon doth wax and wane. So look around these darkest skies Trust in how the earth lets go And know That life will continue to ebb and flow. 🍂🌲Warmest wishes to friends near and far🍂🌲  My latest newsletter, filled with words about our four months in Portugal—as well as links to recent writings—has just been sent out. Please click here if you would like to receive my thoughts directly to your inbox.
“We walked around the village with them in the warm evenings—Ernestina’s arm looped through mine for steadiness—and sat on the old wooden bench soaking up the night sky. My Portuguese is limited, but there it grew as we talked. There will not be a day I won’t miss this place and yet, I know I soaked it all in fully so that in that longing, I will not feel pain for something I should have done differently.” Every moment we are in—this moment right now—is worthy of our attention. 💚  A table
Handmade with love for nights such as these. Messy with sweet chestnuts. Wine bottles and cups. Fingers black from peeling those fire-hot shells. Cheeks rosy, hearts swelled. The sound of children's laughter. Trampolining by torchlight, is a thing. Star-gazing, Conversation-amazing. Connections from mind to mind. Heart to heart. A table. The centre. Around which, we grow. I reminisce about all the tables we have sat around this year—this year of disconnection, of fear. And I feel thankful for the brave hearts that wonder, that question. I feel thankful for those still willing to share.  Since December 2019 I've been writing the 'Characters of the Cut' column for the Towpath Talk Newspaper. Each month I feature those who live their life on the canals of England and it's always enjoyable and fascinating to write their stories.
Having previously lived afloat for a number of years myself, narrowboating as a way of life is endlessly appealing to me. And by writing about others, it allows me to keep my hand in on this unique lifestyle! So far I have featured roving traders, artists, signwriters, environmentalists, families in search of a simpler way of life... do visit my Characters of the Cut page to read their stories. You can also read a few articles about my own narrowboat life, here.  On our last morning in the UK I walk my dogs alone around the two fields near my caravan. I wonder if it will be the last time—ever? Or for some time at least… The long grass is heavy with dew, but still I can make out the well-worn path. My flip-flops feel cumbersome, so I slip them off and walk barefoot.
For me, there is nothing like that feeling of freedom from the ground up. It’s something I work hard to remain connected to—the surge of nature to keep me rooted to what is real. There is nothing more real than the solid world beneath our feet, is there? TV, books, social media—they show us things, inspire, but equally they detach us and allow us to simply become receivers of noise. The force-feeding of ideas and beliefs can play havoc with our true sense of freedom and so, as much as I long to stay connected, I ensure I remain disconnected, too. I try to remember to stand on the earth. Root down. Jump inside my body and mind and say, “Hey, Alice, what are you feeling? Deep down? Truly?” What I’m feeling right now is discomfort—in this moment of walking barefoot; in this moment of life. I look at my dogs walking ahead and wonder if they too feel each sensation: each thorn, each soft spot. Do long lengths of grass wrap themselves around their toes (paws) trying to catch them out too? Do those same toes feel like individual ice-cubes as we step into the shade? For a moment I walk, feeling little sensation, only an all-consuming coldness and I ponder whether to slip my flip-flops back on. I persevere though, and as I round into the second field, I feel glad because this perseverance has connected me right down to that discomfort again; allowed me to get in touch with myself. I know I am fearful. I sense I too have been pulled into the panic of this virus. Friends and family express their concern over our packing up and heading off for an unspecified time and I know the worries of my community—the world—have permeated me. But I can’t stop; something drives me forward. The other day I turned to my husband and declared, “I feel like I am sleep-walking into this next chapter and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.” Things are strange everywhere right now and sometimes it’s hard to make out what is real—what will truly affect—from everything else and so, as focused as I am about following my path, don’t ever think there is not fear. Just as with everyone—choices are sometimes hard-won. The emotional and physical drain: heavy. And sometimes, it is only by walking barefoot—by reconnecting with the solid earth beneath—that the true way becomes clear. It’s not always well-worn or obvious. Sometimes it’s downright prickly and uncomfortable. But often it gives way to softness and moments of sheer delight and I’ll take that, because I believe there can be nothing true that does not bring both discomfort and pleasure.  For anyone moving to—or dreaming of moving to—rural Portugal I would like to introduce to you my very dear friend, Joana, who has just launched her new business: Portugal Green Heart This new venture will see Joana offering Property Finding & Translator services to help you achieve your dream. In addition, she is also available to help businesses with Virtual Assistant and Art Services. Joana is one of life's warm, kind, genuine people and I feel honoured to have called her my friend for more than a decade. Her passion for promoting rural Portugal is infectious and I know she will inspire you to explore the natural, slow and healthy pace of life to be found there! Do check out her website for more information and find her on: and here is a little photo of us together back in 2013!   My daughter has now turned 13 and I can hardly quite believe it. There are days when I long for my little baby, yet I remind myself that I have enjoyed every moment as much as possible. But still, time passes and I can't help but want to slow it down a bit.
Noting down some feelings about this stage—this stage of home-educating a teenager—I decided to send them to Ross Mountney. I've enjoyed sharing our home-educating journey on her blog over the years and you can read my latest post here: Reflections on the Early Years Ross's writings on home-educating are an inspiration and comfort to many and I always recommend her books to those dipping their toe in! Along with my daughter, we have been selling our individual writing projects to raise money for animal sanctuaries.
It's been a great learning experience, particularly for my daughter and so far we have raised more than £100! This has been split into two donations to Hillside Animal Sanctuary and Dean Farm Trust. You can still support us right here: Poems for Animals Click to Purchase My poems have been featured on the Viva! podcast and also in Vegan Life Magazine and ponder some of the questions and thoughts I have had myself during my 12 year journey from meat eater to vegetarian, and finally vegan. Here are some reviews: "Wow! Your poems are so powerful, deeply touching and moving and hearing them on audio takes them to another level. If I wasn't vegan already, I would certainly be thinking long and hard about eating the flesh of animals after hearing your words." ~ Jules, @thehippieboat “I am glad to be able to offer a little support to a good cause while also getting to enjoy some inspired and thoughtful poetry. I loved meeting the adorable duck community in Monsieur Robert and It Started With An Art reminded me strongly of an event in my own childhood. Griffin's work has a strong message encouraging readers to think about their attitudes to all animals. She doesn't hector, however, but uses her poems to present familiar scenarios that resonated with me, twisting the viewpoint to elicit an emotional response and then to illustrate the more humane resolution. If I weren't already vegan, I would certainly have been giving a lot of thought to becoming so as a result of this work.” Stephanie Jane, litflits.blogspot.com "Those poems. So so powerful. Amazing. Eye opening. I wish everyone would see the truth." ~ Eva “These poems emanate passion, reality and rawness. The words are brilliantly set out for all to read and digest with references that many turn a blind eye to. The talented way in which the words are put across to the reader are poignant and definitely leave you thinking. Alice is the voice, and has the words that need to be remembered.” Debbie “Beautiful powerful words by a woman passionate about animal welfare.” Lee-Anne Fictional Wolf Newspaper (Issue One) Click to Purchase Isabella (my daughter) & Milly are 13-year-old friends who created AWOOOO News because they are mad about wolves and thought it would be fun to create lots of stories and 'Wolf Reporters'. This 13-Page Easter Issue is full of stories, interviews, puzzles and fun and is a downloadable PDF Copy. "Especially at this virus time, animal sanctuaries need help because their open days have been cancelled and these days raise lots of donations. We thought it would be fun to make our newspaper available to other children as well as raise money to help!" |
Words on LifeHere I simply share musings on my life of wandering, writing, home-educating & dreaming with my little family. Welcome and do please say hello!
Me, my daughter Isabella & husband, Scott (+Milla & Pepper)
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