Long Road of a Gift...

Once upon a time there was a young woman, and the young woman had a sister, and the sister had a boyfriend who was in one nation's army.  Now the boyfriend had a buddy who was in another nation's army, and that soldier had a sister.  The sister discovered a music, and she sent it to her brother, who shared it with his buddy who shared it with his girlfriend who in her turn shared it with her sister, the young woman where the trail began.  Which if memory serves me is the full story of how the music of Blackmore's Night found its' way to my muse Alex, who shared it with a great many of us.  To this day in my heart it is her music, the magic Ritchie and Candice weave with sound the perfect complement to the spells of love distilled Alex would cast.  Let me share a few favorites with you here, for a gift of that sort is a gift that needs to be passed on to others.

Music beneath the fold...


This one, Ghost of a Rose, perhaps among Alex's favorites, it was often played...

... and yes sweet woman, if I see a white rose it is you I think of, then, now, likely forever. 


I wish I had a copy of Alex's dance to share along with the music, it was fully inspired...  I don't think she'd meant to dance the whole work, I think she just fell into the music and lost track of time.  Things like that can happen you know, when you do what you love and love what you do.  Treasures of the memory, don't you know.

When I met Alex she knew me as "Nostalgic", it was my handle in those days, and in all truth in that time it was a good one word descriptor for me.  But time ran on, and in large part because of her influence the pain in my life began to heal, my attitudes changed, and when I chose a new handle to be known by this is what she said to me, dedicated a dance to me quite by surprise... I didn't know the song, in that time and place when I was open to her what I saw pierced me to the heart, such a sweet pain it was.  You'll recognize what I'm talking about in the song...

And now?  Now I'm again a bit nostalgic, from time to time.  I do so miss her magic, the magic of love savored for what love is when the ways of the world and the ways of the flesh can't dim and dilute what it is to feel that sweetest of sentiments.  So if you want to you can call me nostalgic, I don't mind. It fits.  Again.