The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Fourth Age by some, an Age yet to come, and Age long past, a wind rose in the Bunya Mountains. The wind was not the beginning, there are neither Beginnings nor endings to the turning of The Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
The wind blew the shade cloth off our patio. It shook our tomatoes and it rattled our chook house. I will see what other damage was done in the morning.
This is a beginning. Not the beginning of course, because we can never know where to start. But with the help of Robert Jordan, it is a beginning.
This will be the story of my darling wife, my interesting and infuriating children and my own journey to a happy heathy life. There are moments between screaming children, storms and unrelenting heat, that I feel such happiness that I want to preserve it or distill it for later.
Here are a couple to get started. The kids helping build the new chook house:
More to follow.