Mar 13, 2017
Glaramara, Eastermeet 2016
The thing I remember most is the morning.
We camped in the valley, by the river under the mountain. We climbed out of our beds, with bleary eyes and cloudy heads.
The ground cracked under aching foot, as I stumbled to the fire, to find comfort in an outstretched brew. The steam warming my face as the cup did my hands and the liquid my soul.
And I watched. As sun descended valley wall, bringing with it a long awaited thaw. And a winter shadow made way for Easter day.
And thatβs what sticks in my head, that and Tabβs dad taking some stick; a right sight in mud and sick.
