An Taigh Dubh - Part I

Foggy Bummers- Silhouette of a couple with two dogs looking at starry night sky

Twas’ the night before the Winter Solstice, a year to the day since we moved to An Taigh Dubh; so here’s a wee story from me to you…

One of Magick, a Mother Tree and the Woman that lives in her Woods.
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Prior to the move, I was in a dark place. The onset of the menopause broke me. Never one to miss an opportunity, my demons pounced. Normally, I keep rude health and for a myriad reasons avoid visiting the Dr, unless absolutely necessary.  However, so desperate was I for help and so clouded was my judgement, I tried HRT. And went from bad to the Dr's to play Russian Roulette with my hormones and mental health. It was a living hell and I could see no way out, bar one. 
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However, one wrong turn and a storm; Arwen to be exact, changed the course of our lives. It is said some storms come to disrupt your life. Others to clear your path. I saw it as a sign.
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When it came to considering the plot, it was a Beech Tree that sealed the deal. Centuries old, vast and magnificent, as soon as we saw her, it was a love at first sight. She is a Mother Tree, a matriarch of the forest and warden to the woods.
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I’ve always been wild and the shadow that trots behind me is definitely four footed. That said, nothing could have prepared me for the transformation that was to come. Some might struggle to believe that a meadow nestled in a forest could tend to one’s needs. Trust me when I say, we have all that we need.
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But Nature never did betray the heart that loved her. She can heal all of manner of hearts. A year in and I still can’t decide if I’m rewilded or enchanted. Perhaps it’s an alchemy of both. There are years that ask questions and years that answer. It is safe to say this past one has done both.
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So we spent Nov prepping and then Mark went back to work. I moved in Dec 20th 2021 and with my neighbours gone for the holidays, the first three weeks it was just the dogs and I. That first night was certainly a test of character. The black of night is never truer than when you live surrounded by trees and no light. But for every yin there’s a yang; and instead I have a cathedral of stars.
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I may be only fifteen minutes from town but here, I am a million miles away from everything. Life here, even off grid, is idyllic. But it comes at a price. To live this life requires dedication, sacrifice and plain old-fashioned hard graft.
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Eleanor Roosevelt once said “a woman is like a tea-bag, you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.” Or lack of in my case. I’ve discovered not only am I resourceful but resilient. Nature dances to her own beat and refuses to be rushed; her rhythm has taught me patience. As sure as the sun rises, night will fall. But the Tawny Owls of An Taigh Dubh teach there is nothing to fear from the dark; or from time spent in solitude. To be be fair, with two hairy besties by my side, one is never alone.
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Or foxes, badgers and teeny tiny wee wrens. The red squirrel with tufty club ears, or the black spotted woodpecker that’s lived here for years. The resident Sparrowhawk or soaring buzzards that float on the vents. The unkindness of ravens or my murder of crows. The still roe deer that graze the misty meadow; the silent creatures that leave mysterious tracks in the snow.
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Whilst it may be slightly masochistic, I know that once the house is built there will be a part of me that will miss van life. But I have determined that I won’t let bricks and mortar cage me.
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Such is the restorative power of Mother Nature, I owe her a debt of gratitude I can never repay. J.R.R Tolkien wrote “all we have to decide is what to do with the the time that is given to us.”
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I reckon we carry on just the way She intended

 



 

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