Mountain Air

The is something in the air on Tamborine Mountain. It feels like the stars are in alignment.

My hostess here, Sandy, and I have things in common, to the degree where it is spooky. We both planted lavender bushes on our great grandmother’s grave.

My name is Ceridwen. My favourite goddess is hestia, who gave up her immortality for the hearth, but the one identify most with is Ceridwen. Sandy’s favourite goddess is Ceridwen, but her guide is Hestia.

Whilst I’m on the topic, I met a girl last night who has a daughter called Taliesin, who is the same age as my little girl would have been. Ceridwen has a son called Taliesin.

Every person I meet, the first thing they say to me seems to be a deep thing that connects us together – this one loves weaving, and makes corn dollies. That one grew up without his father, and being about my father’s age, had still managed to get wrinkles in the shape of a man with a kind heart.

We both definitely drink too much too. Last night, we drank til the sun came up, and then went for a walk in the rain forest listening to kookaburra and lyre birds calling, and looking at the gum trees and the jacaranda bushes, huge trees covered with purple flowers.

I loved drinking in the bowls club, where Tommy would have drunk. The people up here are so lovely, I can see why he chose to stop here.

I was going to go out partying tonight but I lost my phone. I lost my phone just long enough to decide I would stay on the mountain tonight. Then, I found my phone, and straight away Jeff, who is arranging the thing tomorrow, said could I go to the bowls club to meet to discuss tomorrow.

That’s what I mean about the mountain air. It would make you believe things that would seem incredible in a place with less magic about it.

Like I said, the beautiful people of Tamborine Mountain have embraced me, and they embraced Tommy too – they had a collection for his funeral.

My heart is very full today.

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