A story teller's autumn tale

Now in the quiet time, the in-between time, the pause of the year, there are moments once more for stories to grow and fully form themselves. In the months of autumn blustering winds and my busy time, I have been stealing moments for whisperings, shared dreamings and the watering of words with this wonderous story teller. While the dear kindred soul who wished this being into becoming has been waiting patiently for the autumn tale, which is it my joy to now share.

THE STORY TELLER'S AUTUMN TALE

All as the wind dances to and fro, from long into this autumn afternoon, the story teller listens to the rustling of the falling leaves. Come play they say, come frolic this day. And so the story teller spreads her arms with glee, filling her cloak with a big breath of bluster, she twirls up up onto her toes, almost lifting herself into the swirling colours and the leaves seem to laugh all around her. Gathering a handful of golden russet crackles, she throws them high, high and calls to the wind to take these magical letters, as invitation to the children.

Up up and along blows the wind, flutter, flitter the lovely leaves fly, until each dear child they spy, and float gently gliding down that their message might be found.

And this is what the children hear, from the leaves as they hold them near.

‘Come come to the story teller’s hollow tree

Bring all your gathered autumns treats

Apples, cobnuts and blackberries

We will create a heart-filling feast'

And running and shouting, woohoo wheee come the children,
Tumbling down the hill and tripping over the roots of the huge old hollow tree

They knock, and above them the rainbow bird peeps out to see.

'Yes yes dear ones' the story teller calls, opening the ancient trunk door, 

'Yes leave your hats, coats and scarfs to amuse the wind 

Come in to the warm heart of our beauty-filled tree

Bring all you have brought, come share with me'

And in that secret nook, all lined with the soft growings of the rainbow bird’s song,

The children shelter and show, all that they have gleaned and gathered together
Rowan’s shiniest conker is held by all
Daisy gives generous tastes of her seeded bread
Fern shows how to make a corn cobb doll and a dragon too

Then as the last golden rays begin to slip, dipping behind the branches into the dusk. 

The story teller takes the children out once more,

'Yes bundle up, so you all stay warm.

Now Let us whisper into the patterns of the leaves, all the tales of our adventures, our hopes and even our tears, that as the leaves return to earth the future will grow to reflect all the wisdom of your play'

I hope that encoutering this story has nourished your being, and that you will await with me, the becoming of the story teller's winter tale when it unfolds.