This picture was taken at a good moment. I thought it was rather ironic that most of the time at camp, the only time we saw a sun of any description, was on this flag! Mostly the sky was cloudy or it was raining. Torrential rain sometimes.
I found myself watching clouds again, wondering if they would blow this way or that way, but it didn't really matter about the rain or the wind, because both the air, and the company there were warm.
We went to a Bardic Camp, on the edge of the Forest of Dean, on a beautiful, hilltop site almost entirely surrounded by the River Severn.
I for one, attended workshops on storytelling, incense making, and most fabulously of all, 5 Rythm Dance (wow!). There were also talks on all manner of what have you, from firemaking, to mythology, to native awareness.
Another friend showed me how to spin wool from raw fleece to yarn using only a hand held drop spindle. I want to try it too.
I decided that if I can't live here:
I might like to live here:
But not here
This is one of the toilets. It's a wooden shack over a very big hole - a Pit. Think of a word which rhymes with pit, or knit, which begins with S, but isn't spit ... and you've got it. There were several camps before this one ....
To erase that thought, here's another pic of my dream home: