I woke in the dark today. In the night only the few brightest stars had pushed through the moon's brightness to become visible. Moonshadows still splintered the earth beneath the ash tree when we headed out,  and down to the beach, to find the light. I was searching for endpapers and thinking and looking. On the tideline remnants of Icarus lay.

In time tide moved and beach grew, opening the way to seek stones.

I left a gift of gold and sea smoothed stone, for the sea, or someone who might find it. An offering to this time. Three hours of peace and waiting as the moon and gravity pulled at the water and stripped back and sorted the sand into pattern.

The lists close on 19th December for subscriber names. Alison needs to design the index of supporters names into the back of the book. She's almost finished the interior and it looks elegant and calm. Below are two pages from this book.

It has space to breathe, is woven with light, made with old technology and new, and ink and metal on stone and bark and feather, and now I find myself haunting the edges of daylight.

You should get an email asking if you would confirm the name you wish to see in the back of the book, so if you have purchased as a gift and wish to change the name that is the time to do it. Reply to the email with any corrections. And if you have purchased as a bookshop and want your shop to be included in the list then change the name to that of the shop. ( Bookshops who pledge- you can order more of the special edition. But you need to get in touch with Unbound, so do this, as the specials will be limited and signed and numbered, and the Unwinding ones sold through fast)

Thank you to everyone who has supported the book. It is a nerve wracking time of waiting now. This book is so different from anything I have made before. It won't delight anyone who wants more of the same I am afraid, but I hope those who have put their trust in me will find enough to give thought and hope, and set them dreaming in a different way. It is, as with everything else I make, a heartsong. So, here, a small wild blessing. And now, I am away to paint. The Book of Birds is calling and I have rooks to shape.