Before the Victorians made fairies cute and cuddly, they were naughty and dangerous. It was said they would whisk a person away to dance at their court for what seemed like an afternoon and yet years would pass in the mortal realm.
That’s how I feel these days. Like I’ve been taken away to an alternate universe where time has little meaning until someone reminds me that something is due or needs to be done. It’s why I’ve been late posting this. I’ve been lost in the world of faery.
My time “there” got me thinking about time. On more than one occasion I’ve said to family and friends that time is a construct in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way. But is it wrong? We construct it for ourselves—personal hallmarks to tell us what comes next. This time of year, I expect the start of the new school year, cooler weather and longer walks. Now that one of those three things hasn’t happened, my natural writer’s clock is sluggish.
This is all a long way of saying I’m taking the month of September off from my blog. I need to get back in a rhythm and I feel my time with the fairies isn’t yet over.