Wassail, traveler, and welcome to The Gable Grey -- a place of retreat, of renewal, and of resistance: a tree-shaded refuge in Dark Times. Now pass the threshold, and rest from journeys! For a cold wind is blowing; and here, if you wish, you may hear tidings of the world without...

Friday, July 13, 2012

Dark Roads

Been a difficult year.  I've been neglecting The Gable Grey of late.  Can't be helped.  I don't know when I'll be back to posting on a more regular basis.  There has been and is still much to do.  My strength has been and is being tested like never before.  At some point I may find that strength wanting.  At that point I would take the Ship, and leave this place in more capable hands, or simply to the trees.  My heart is sick and weary of the burdens upon it.

1 comment:

  1. You are not alone brother. We both are searching for strengths. I will not let you leave on that ship without me. The trees, they will never forgive you...


Whiles carried o'er the iron road,
We hurry by some fair abode;
The garden bright amidst the hay,
The yellow wain upon the way,
The dining men, the wind that sweeps
Light locks from off the sun-sweet heaps --
The gable grey, the hoary roof,
Here now -- and now so far aloof.
How sorely then we long to stay
And midst its sweetness wear the day,
And 'neath its changing shadows sit,
And feel ourselves a part of it.
Such rest, such stay, I strove to win
With these same leaves that lie herein.

-- William Morris, from
"The Roots of the Mountains"