Wells Cathedral

strength and beauty in the day. built by those whose faith had no doubt. their hearts yearned for the heaven to come after the hard life they knew. their faith gave them the assurance that within that sacred space that they had erected over many many years of labor and their last penny to spend, lie heaven. literally. heaven on earth.

Wells Cathedral

glowing in the night. a magical emotion enters ones heart when you gaze upon that edifice at night. ye olde gatehouse inn, part of the wall around the cathedral close, has a room with that exact view. i was fortunate enough to sleep there. wells, swelling and flowing with streams untamed, is a most special little city, still with a touch of the medieval world in its modernity. its a city because of the cathedral, a place of worship in england is only called a cathedral when it is the seat of a bishop and the community in which it lies is called a city, no matter the population. take a walk thru the fields in wells, and see to your south glastonbury tor, beckoning with its secret hidden tale, take a ride up to nearby bath, where marvelous architecture crowds into a valley, giving you a whisper of roman past georgian pomp victorian attitude. there are special waters that arise from mother earth in bath have never, ever seen the light of day. the romans and the georgians and the victorians felt they were curative. moderns say ooooo they are not ! when no one is looking, dip your hands in mothers flow and make up your own mind. ummmm. lovely. ok lets get our minds back to wells. i trust if you visit, you will be very happy you did. there are several fine old inns in the city. do stay in one, rather than in an out of town guest house or hotel....and for one moment while you are enjoying the thrills of the nooks and crannies inside the cathedral, please remember me....ta

oxenford

i'm not a poet, but i wrote this to describe what oxford in england means to me. in my head there was a chanting rhythm to the sound as it came to me. i expect its cause of my celtic blood. the song i sing to oxford is not romantic but passionate :

Oxenford

Your architecture, crystal song
Sings to me from your distant land
Your stone sweet music to my eye
Is passion’s reason, desire’s reply

With burning love, aching heart, I long
For your placid moors, your mired land
Entombed, a sodden isle of Avalon

Oxenford, your given name
And such a silly name knows none
They see you as some gelded bull
Stumbling through a flooded field

But we know, you and I
(and Men who’ve tramped your bosom’s paths)
That ancient bloodline, River Thames,
Is Isis when it fills your veins

Flowing, sacred, honeyed, draft
Hoary kiss of being
In archaic tongue you’re known

As ‘Is’ or ‘Os’ or ‘As’

Water’s sound
Of wizard’s fame ?
Yes !
Goddess Isis is your name

A man whose words as sweet
As mine be harsh
Breathed your soul and sighed
You are a place of Dreaming Spires

And lowering towers
And flirting gargoyles wise
And stones so wet with hoary moss
Their sheen reflects the skies

Down the cobbled alleyway
Laburnum trees are tucked away
And streaming golden racemes fall
On clear blue perfect April days

Such precious hours, all is bliss
And no one can reacall
You shroud your light in cloaks of gray
To match your stones, most every day

Your presence, deep with shades of those
Who walked your lanes with you,
They laughed and learned, drank deep your wine

We’re hung and drawn and wed
And each of them you truly loved
When they softly wept in bed

I feel them, and I hear their sighs
Deep in the nightfall’s streams
Long after revelry’s off to bed
And passed into your dreams

Oh how my heart does ache for you!
I’m drawn to you as home
As paramour, as confidante
As teacher, mother, friend

I’ve been with you through time, my love
A thousand years before
And when another thousand pass
I’ll be with you once more

Woman stranded in cat rescue bid

I read this online today, and thought, what a wonderful way for us cat lovers to get some exercise and meet a man who is fit, altruistic, brave and has a job that'll keep him out of our hair for days at a time while they are on duty ..oh, and the kitties always find a way to free themselves, dont they !

A woman who climbed 20ft up a tree to help a trapped cat had to be rescued by firefighters after getting stranded. The woman, aged in her 20s, went to help feline Mercedes who had been trapped in a neighbour's tree for almost two days. But a branch broke beneath her and she was also left stranded in the tree on Essex Hall Road in Colchester, Essex. Fire crews helped the woman down from the tree using ladders, while the cat eventually made its own way down.

Local resident Elly Hinkins said she had called the RSPCA after she heard a cat's cries for help and spotted Mercedes up a tree in her driveway. Ms Hinkins, who is not Mercedes' owner, was told to inform the fire brigade if the cat remained trapped after three days. But she called them a day earlier after spotting the would-be rescuer stuck up the tree along with the cat. Ms Hinkins said: "She (the woman) got up there and was quite a confident climber but the branch she was standing on broke.

"She didn't want me to call the fire brigade but I said there was no way I was having her falling out of the tree and she just couldn't get down. "I think she was actually quite chuffed to be rescued by some hunky fireman." The woman, who has not been named, was led down to safety by a firefighter using a triple extension ladder on Monday night, a fire service spokesman said.

[July 1st BBC]

the english pub

this is the kings arms in oxford, or i should say, one room.. this is a very old pub, with an air about it of quiet knowing...so many significant conversations, so many falling down drunks. now the kings arms is not usually this quiet, but even when the place is in a wild and crazy manic dance, theres always a cozy corner you can cuddle in with a book and a guiness [my favorite]. i have spent a lot of time in england, havent been there recent enough for my liking... i've backpacked around alot of the island, but i am drawn to oxford, tarted up ole lady that she is... true goddess sophia... arrogant and raw, beautiful beyond belief...ugly capitalistic beaurocratic debris about... but she is my love.

real celtic thunder

yup, its true, the celts were really really wild and crazy warriors, who scared the s**t out of the roman soldiers. they went into battle screaming their bloody heads off, after partying all night in a very revealing way. they battled wearing the above outfit.. hat, belt, and neck band. nope, no nut warmer... the women and kids cheered them on from the sidelines...the romans saw them as enormous, handsome muscular men with long hair thickly coated with lime, so that it was big and scary [and sexy] the celts were known to be extremely intelligent, with a profound interest and grasp of philosophy and when not getting drunk as skunks, partying or going into battle half cocked [or full cocked, by the look of it], would sit around discussing the more subtle points of the meaning of life like a bunch of monty pythons! But these wunderkids also developed extremely well planned battle techniques, learning from the romans and tricking them at their own games. kicking ass was their raison d’etre, their true love, slicing and dicing, adrenalin flowing, to them, to die in battle, was the greatest high of all....yep, then they became christians and the rest you know….

poughkeepsie

i'm really so amazed about this internet google instant gratification 21st century party...a recent tribe posting linked to the gutenberg project, [what a find! i didnt know it existed!] many kind souls out there in the world are putting out-of-copywright books on the net, by scanning, typing, proofing, etc...well, i no longer have my copy of george mc donald's "lilith", nor does the library, but the web site does ! i downloaded it and am reading / savouring it...one of the themes is you cant go out or come in until you have a home to do it from...now , where IS home ? [very esoteric book, so take it literally AND metaphorically]. anyway, home is something i've never really had and something i've always craved... you know, unloved daughter thing...but...home....somehow here i am in poughkeepsie, and you can see the bridge and mountains in the distance, its the hudson river in new york state, just as grand as the rhine, doncha know, and the adirondack mountain range sweeps up both sides of the hudson valley, with romanic names for the hills like the taconics, shawangunks [called the gunks] the catskills, the helderberghs, the berkshires, well you get the idea....less than 100 miles up from manhattan, and there's more beautiful countryside than you can shake a stick at.. rolling land, farms, orchards, and vinyards, too. not just forested mountains. and there are lakes. streams, creeks [called kills here, cause the 1st euro settlers were dutch]. now, poughkeepsie means in the indigenous inhabitants' [that pc for the indians'] tongue, the water that flows both ways..the hudson river has a tide at poughkeepsie, [actually there is a slight one for at least another 50 miles, up to the capital of new york. no, manhattan isn't the capital...albany starts at sea level before it climbs directly up a hillside to become one of the best city skylines you'll ever encounter].....the hudson [named for henry hudson, the englishman who discovered it for the netherlands, go figure] a beautiful river, cleaned up in good stead by the heroic efforts of a few, and mainly pete seeger, folk singer extradinare [heck, he wrote where have all the flowers gone and if i had a hammer, for goodness sake] and major activist for the rights of the everyman for the greater part of the 20th century, and now into this new millenium...[he lives just down the river from here]. he has a sloop [yep, thats the word] a wonderful sailing ship the clearwater, that sails the hudson, and they hold festivals every year to raise awareness of this fine rivers' plight, and mother earth's predicament as well.... so, i look around, and for now, POK is home. there are some friendly neighbors around me, and although folks do get shot outside my house on a fairly regular basis, and my tires get slashed, and,,,well, its home, ain't it ? the cats are happy, i have lots of windows to look out of, and .. well...its where my heart is.

when the door closes a window opens

i came to tribe by a circuitous route..one that would really only seem plausible on a soap opera. now, here i am. i look around, dust myself off, and think, well, its not kansas, toto...i've been blown around a bit, so kansas wouldn't be such a good idea right now. actually, my alter ego, y-rnyh, came out of her shell last month, and started joining into the fray here on tribe, making friends, learning and laughing...i was more hesitant because of the above-mentioned soap, but what the heck, i think i'll dance a bit myself...hello world !!!
Oh, you might find the pic a bit depressing, i don't. it reminds me of when i was helping a friend and his small band of sledgehammer swinging warriors renovate some historic townhouses in albany 25 years ago. i did the redesign, construction management and historic documentation... exceedingly hard work, incredibley happy time. all the houses turned out well, and helped turn around the crumbling neighborhood, for as we started working on one house after another, all the other houses in the neighborhood joined in. well, the people. not the houses themselves.