The Fourth Marches On!

Happy fourth everyone. 

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Our country, well, we are so diverse.  We are a people made of the cultures, beliefs and history of  many.  We have a great deal of goodness to focus upon,  so at this time I will.

Happy Fourth of July.  Celebrate this honest holiday with pride and faith!

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PALM READING

mmpalmsAfter a self imposed hiatus from reading palms, I am so happy to announce that I am once more checking out your lines, helping you understand your destiny, and just having fun with people I enjoy.  Although I am not as glamorous as Ms.Monroe in the picture,  I promise you an interesting time!

Currently you can see my schedule at Mind Body Spirit in St Cloud, and schedule a reading there for your convenience.  I will post continuing updates with new venues, and offers.

Otherwise, I am available for private parties, (I love Bachorlette Parties) and private readings.

Your destiny, your life is in the palm of your hands.

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Day 22 And Day 23

I am just grateful these days.  Grateful for the opportunity to cocoon in my home, to live surrounded by the “things” I love.  I am grateful for John’s warm heart that love me.

And I am thankful  for Parker dogs scent…really.

I am thankful for Orange Cat patrolling our outside for the dastardly mice and hope he is thankful for his heated home in the garage.

I am thankful we have no snow, I really don’t like snow.

I am thankful for our full freezer, and the gas in our cars, the heat in our buildings, our electricity, just every little thing I often take for granted.

Today I am grateful for thankfulness.thankfulness

A slight romantic tale of fiction

youngHer  name was Tirion. A Kale from Wales. Often she was confused with the Gypsy. But was not such. Tirion‘s  kind has always traveled in Britain, from before even the Celts traveled to Ireland to conquer and control. They are not Gypsy, They are, and will always be, Travelers.

Even so, they share much in common with the Gypsies, journeying from place to place, and share much with our United States country’s own native tribes. They were persecuted for their beliefs, and often found themselves hiding  survive. Survive they did. Making their way, moving from village to city to ocean to mountain to plain, working hard; using the strength of their minds and their bodies.

Her own Gran, my Gran many times past, had a sight, theoldwoman ability to see past the veils of this world into others, and could reach into the soul of another to understand and hear their hidden secrets. From her Tirion was passed these gifts, and with them, she made her own small living.cards

From her words to my Gran’s Mother to my Gran and to me, I heard this tale…

“We look to the other world for our spiritual delight. Mab, Queen of all the Fairies we call our own, and the Fairies we are cousin to. My ancestors danced with the Fairies on many a midsummer eve, and many a hallowed eve, ensuring our prosperity and comfort. Together we drew down the moon, and made the small magic’s that kept our world turning.

I can tell you many a tale of my five decades here on this earthly plane, tales of visits with my cousins, tales of time spent with this United States own native peoples, and tales of my travels, sorrows, and joy. But I will begin, with just the small beginning. To say how I came to this vast and wonderful land of ours, this Western glory.

My Ma; as a Lass, came across the great ocean on a merchant ship bound from the port of Liverpool, in the year of 1825, headed to a port of New York City. Her passage was paid by a grand and fine Lady, and for this Lady my Ma fetched and carried, helping to achieve all of the fuss and froofa that great Ladies must have.

Her private time was little, but one fine morning she happened above decks, to stand with the salty breeze blowing through her hair, and the feel of the sun on her face. A swell rocked the deck, and she tumbled, crying out in alarm.

sailor in mastNow above her was the man who would be my Da, a Traveler as well, who had hired on the ship to earn his own safe passage to the Americas. He worked the sails, climbing up and down the masts, doing all those things that sailors do. Hearing her cry, he looked down, and saw her coppery curls glinting in the light, and her slight form tumbled about the deck. And she, lying on that deck looked up into the sky and saw himself, sun-browned and lean, hanging above her.

Quickly he clambered down the mast, and rushing to her, helped her back on to her feet. Looking into one anothers faces they knew, with their souls that they  to be together.

Later that evening, my Ma once more crept above deck, to find Da, waiting, where her heart knew he would be. And thus I was created, and still to this day, I hold in my mind a connected memory of the sound and smell of salty waves rocking against the wooden sides of a ship, and the sight of stars shining down into the water.”

I blushed as my gran told me this story, and was thrilled to know of the love running in my veins.

gypsy wagon

Time for a Wagon

Time for a Gypsy Wagon

Please take some time to check out my new endeavor!tyger voyage

Imagine

Imagine a weekend spent here.  Sunshine and scented breeze. Maybe a hammock. A small fireplace inside fronted by a soft comfy couch…peaceful place

Am I wrong

bohimean

 

A comment to John the other day.  “My favorite people are really weird!”    It is true.  With other souls who have a skewered outlook on living I am the most comfortable, the most at home.

Previous Older Entries

Tilly Evan Jones

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