Time and again I return to the wisdom of John O’Donohue, an Irish poet/philosopher I first discovered when buried deep in fear and confusion amidst the gradual crumbling of my exiled life in the United States.
I once read that in the Celtic tradition monks and warriors undertook “incredible journeys of imagination and spirit.” Having just returned from Amalfi, a wondrous Italian coastal town originally built by monks and warriors, I don’t think this tradition was necessarily specific to the Celts.
Chris and I are shortly off to Amalfi in Italy. For the first time since I moved to Livingstone nearly six years ago, we’re going to be experiencing a chilly Christmas and New Year … a reprieve from our scorching summer days and ferocious thunderstorms that often crash about us through the summer months.
To all my readers who have been trying to post comments after my blogs, I have just learned that the firewall set up by my web hosting company has been blocking them. 🙁 I am so sorry. This bug has now been resolved, so if you still feel inclined, please try to post your comments again!
Thank you, as always, for your time and interest.
I have been experimenting with wild, indigenous and garden foods in the Zambezi Valley now for just over four years. Recently, I published a collection of recipes showcasing their development in three of Zambia’s provinces in which I have worked. The response, both in-country and beyond, has been unlike anything I expected.
I am reposting this story, one that comes to mind every October, because last night as I stepped into the ink-black water of our horizon pool to cool off, I smelt petrichor for the first time. Petrichor, that elixir to reinvigorate a stifled spirit. Petrichor, that precursor to renewal and new beginnings. Then it rained. Briefly. I am grateful.