Shadows in the Oak Grove

Music - Gjendines Bånlåt (Gjendines Lullaby) - Pernille Anker
Moon Phase - 79% full, Waning
Mood -Introspective

*An inviting orange glow flickers through the trees ahead of you, leading you onward through the darkened garden, the moonlight barely piercing the thick canopy, and creating dancing shadows as the wind rustles through the trees overhead. The ground is covered in fresh undergrowth this time of year, and seems to have been untended by any hand save mother natures for many years. The glow reveals itself to be a small fire as you step through the majestic oaks, and into a clearing, where a man sits staring into it, lost in thought. Just as you think you have remained unnoticed, he motions you over to sit by the fire.*

"Come traveller, and find yourself a piece of ground. I regret I've little to offer in the way of comforts, but you see, I'm rather new here myself. No, I'm not quite sure how I got here, and I'd be willing to bet you're a little lost on that point as well. No matter, it seems to be the nature of the place." He reaches into a leather satchel that sits by his side, and after a short bit of rummaging, produces a clay pipe and a bag of tobacco.

"Care to share a pipe? No? Probably for the best, its a nasty habit I should quit myself. But sometimes in the shadows like this, a bit of comfort, however you can find it, is better than none at all." With that he strikes a match, and sets fire to pipe, and takes a few long slow drags, filling the air with the unmistakable scent of pipe tobacco. This seems to be traced with Orange, Vanilla, and Clove, a bit of an unusual mix.

"What is this place you ask? Well.. Near as I can tell its a place where memories go to be forgotten. Every bit of the place seems to have a bit of someone in it, but this particular grove seems to be mine. I figure I'm here for a reason, much as yourself, though what that purpose is, I am admittedly at a loss to say. Careful what you do here, by the way. Things seem to often have unusual results."

With that, he reaches down by beside him, where a pile of gathered sticks, leaves, and wood lay, and plucks out a bundle of leaves, and tosses them into the fire. The leaves smoke a bit more than you might expect, and quickly form a billow of smoke over the fire. Within the twisting veins of smoke, images begin to form, slowly but with purpose. "You see, as I said, each bit of this place contains a piece of me. Lets see what this piece has to say."

Hello traveler, and welcome to my blog. Never thought I'd start one of these damn things, but as you can see, I've been sucked in by the net community as surely as a clipper to a maelstrom. I am known, amongst those for whom I care little, as Brandon Withey. To those that matter these days, I'm known as Aodhan an Chalaidh. As a dear friend of mine once put it "For the Gaelicly illiterate, thats pronounced Aiden" and for my elaboration, the last part is 'Awn Kuh-lay'. In Gaelic, it means 'Fire of the Haven'. It is, perhaps, a bit of hopefulness on what my life will come to be.

I'm not really sure what to tell you about myself here, so I will say what comes naturally. To begin with I am deeply romantic, nothing stirs my soul so much as a haunting tune, or a quiet sunset viewed from a mountainside or the ocean shores. I often fancy myself something of an author, though it can perhaps be said that were we all what we percieve ourselves to be the world would be a much richer, and more horrifying place. Its funny how the two go hand in hand, wouldn't you say?

Of the things I truly can say I know about myself, is that I deeply revel in emotions of all kinds. I am intimate with sadness, and familiar with joy, me and anger are, at times, on speaking terms, though mostly I can say I merely know him and we keep each to our own. Mystery and shadow enthrall me, as do light and the simple joys of life. And love, ahhh sweet fickle love, it has been said it makes the world go round. I disagree, in my experience it is, in fact, the one power that can make the world come to a screeching halt, and allow one to hold a moment in ones hand for all eternity.

I have no doubt that the first of many to read this, will be friends of the light of my heart these days. *pauses for a moment in quiet thought, as if considering this statement* Its a simple truth, that. Take it for what you will. If you know not of whom I speak, well. Perhaps you will in time. But to all of you, know you she or not, welcome, again. *ponders for a long moment again, thoughtful again* It sometimes strikes me as odd, when the moment to stop writing has come. And this seems to be that moment....

*the smoke dies down, breaking into a thousand thousand whisps on a passing breeze, and the man sitting across from you at the fire, smiles a quiet smile as he tamps out his pipe into the dying embers*

"Time to leave is it? Well, I thank you for visiting with me this while, and regret perhaps that what the fire revealed this night was not as interesting as it might have been. But a beginning none-the-less." He stands and dusts himself off. "I suppose the least I can do is take you to the borders of the Garden. Come." With that, he leads you in silence to the edge, past fountain and rose, lilac and stone, across bridges draped in ivy, and to a doorway formed by two majestic Willows swaying quietly in the breeze. As you turn around to say your farewells, you find only the path and darkness walks with you still.