“ And Ruth said, Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me. When she saw that she was stedfastly minded to go with her, then she left speaking unto her.” Ruth 1:16-18
I feel exhilarated when in autumn, winter and spring a wind lifts my hair, brushes across my skin, fills my lungs – I am nourished. My history is of various tribes of people who found their home on the island of Ireland, Scotland, England and Germany – I have read that tribes were driven to seek the Island of Ireland – once called Scotia, Hibernia, Eirinn, Eire, The Isle of Destiny and more.
|FROM FOUR WINDS OF EIRINN|
“O wind-drifted Branch, lift your head to the sun, For the sap of new life in your veins hath begun, And a little young bud of the tenderest green Mine eyes through the snow and the sorrow have seen! O little green bud, break and blow into flower, Break and blow through the welcome of sunshine and shower; ‘Twas a long night and dreary you hid there forlorn, but now the cold hills wear the radiance of morn!“
Autumn musings, dreams of faraway lands, gentle thoughts of time and place are on my heart and mind this foggy, crisp morning….