Cloth is not the only thing woven here — Will is also a weaver of tales . . .
I was sitting on the front porch of my mountain log cabin today, rereading “The Tales of Avalon,” which I had written in 2010. Unlike many authors, I do like to revisit the stories I have written, not as a craftsman, but as a genuine visitor. I’m vain enough to think they are quite good, so I’m not embarrassed by them, and indeed I learn something new from myself on each visit.
How strange it is to be sitting on the edge of a 1,000 foot bluff in Tennessee , literally immersed in the ancient, dark marshes of Avalon, at the sea level of Somerset in Britain, reliving the Tale of the Lights of the Ellylldan. This morning bright Fall sunshine was everywhere. But at 2,000 feet above sea level we are often in the clouds, and then the mists of RavenOak, our home, are quite reminiscent of the mists of…
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