Galdrgrimm

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The sun cuts low through winter trees, woodsmoke hangs in the air.  Walking through the forest one day I find what’s left of a raven dance, the steps clear in the snow. I can see where a raven has scratched it’s beak back and forth drawing concentric lines. As part …

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Scabbard, Snow, Lichen Stone

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I rise before the sun, the scratchy radio voices catalog what bad things have happened in the world while I slept.  But the world tells a different story– out the old farmhouse window the dawn blooms impossible colours against the somnabulant landscape. Two ravens sit warily in the orchard on …

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Travelling

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I’ve just returned from a three-week trip to Britain.  I taught a class about carving Iron Age ornamentation in wood, helped with a sword course that my friend Owen Bush was teaching and presented at a swordsmithing conference.  Owens workshop and home “Bushfire Forge” is an amazing place to do …

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