Mother of our mothers,
Guide our hands in yours,
Remind us how to kindle the hearth. ~Caitlin Matthews, “A Blessing for the Hearth Keepers”
It’s dawn. I do my best writing when morning has broken. (Thanks, Cat.) What a blessing to still gaze upon the full moon in the wee hours. I’ve put a fresh log in the hearth that I smoored last night (actually I just put up the electric heat but a girl can dream, can’t she?) and I begin my post.
Yesterday was brewmaster Alexander Keith’s 214th birthday. Perhaps you drink his pale ale. Apparently people mark Keith’s birthday by leaving bottle caps and beer bottles at his grave site in Camp Hill Cemetery in Halifax.
Which got me thinking what will people leave at my grave site? Flowers? cards? little cut-out hearts? (that would be nice; I’d like that), moose antlers? (I hope not).
But maybe they won’t visit at all. And you know what? That’s alright too. I really won’t be there anyway. But don’t worry, I’ll be around. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. 🙂