Welcome to Harvest Moon, a place where the creatures and landscapes of my imagination take form and meet the world. Nestled in beneath the wild craggy tors of Dartmoor inspiration comes on chilly winds from moonlit landscapes of other realms which share this rugged, ancient land of gorse and granite. Living here I sometimes feel on a bridge between worlds and ages as the land speaks from spluttering streams and wind-beaten tors, telling stories of folk and beast, but only in snatches before the endings are whipped away down the valley with the broad river and out to sea. So here I will share these stories and characters and they can dwell in your own imagination, continuing their stories with infinite outcomes. This is how they live, enjoy them!
Thursday, 10 November 2011
Some time ago a little group of friends scaled Buckland Beacon for a moonlit vigil. A few well known folk were also meeting, far away in the Nordic lands, to talk about our earth. There were high hopes for this meeting amongst some of us who still like to hope. Some went to the north to make their presence known and their hopes understood, others scaled a hill top and simply hoped their hopes and opened their hearts.
It seems a long time ago now, time has creapt on and more meetings have occurred. The well known folk have many Important Things to attend, the common folk must go about their daily business. The little group of friends came down from the hill top and waited to see where their hope landed.
They are still waiting.