tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39073809378487201972024-03-14T12:22:07.182+00:00The Magic Fairy Lady The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-21824589224830156142023-08-02T11:40:00.001+01:002023-08-02T11:40:13.516+01:00A Magical Mermaid's Tale<p style="text-align: center;">She began with a beautiful tail, full of the sea, and I gave<span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"> lightest hint of definition to the creatures swimming
within the silk, so as to maintain their freedom
to move and the possibility for your eyes to see them differently than I
do. </span><img alt="May be art" class="x1bwycvy x193iq5w x4fas0m x19kjcj4" data-visualcompletion="media-vc-image" height="427" src="https://scontent-lhr8-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/359395226_795265868771902_7189272140831614598_n.jpg?_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=730e14&_nc_ohc=SEduh6gaDhQAX_F97W7&_nc_ht=scontent-lhr8-2.xx&oh=00_AfDn85Mj_AsSnkswhG7_WMVbgnMgDTR75EBWhZxNRNjIxg&oe=64CEF2FE" width="640" /><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"> Then I shared this watery magic with the mermaid
herself. I wonder if perhaps I do not write enough of this part of my
creating with the magical beings, the listening, the waiting for the
atmosphere to be what is needed, the communication and love <span></span>as
they slip into being. I know that many of you perceive this etherial
enlivening of the cloth when you hold these beings, and sometimes it is
hard for me to put into words, but today I have tried to show it a
little more clearly. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="No photo description available." class="x1bwycvy x193iq5w x4fas0m x19kjcj4" data-visualcompletion="media-vc-image" height="427" src="https://scontent-lhr8-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/359703673_795265822105240_9187531399383845780_n.jpg?_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=730e14&_nc_ohc=1FkXZTvk0oUAX_V-YnG&_nc_ht=scontent-lhr8-1.xx&oh=00_AfD_u87Z5bRRpN0e1GKI0cP3IU4tJQC4g0g6miA4TKWo9w&oe=64CFDE63" width="640" /><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"> </span><img alt="No photo description available." class="x1bwycvy x193iq5w x4fas0m x19kjcj4" data-visualcompletion="media-vc-image" height="546" src="https://scontent-lhr8-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/359213768_795265755438580_5364755638889531092_n.jpg?stp=cp6_dst-jpg&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=730e14&_nc_ohc=Eu2ygtItTogAX-bgczS&_nc_ht=scontent-lhr8-2.xx&oh=00_AfCR9RN-KZRvgOh8YF3gYa147ytqvbK3f-9pGlHHu4BA9w&oe=64CE6C47" width="640" /><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto"> I will also tell you that the silk that she is
wrapped in, of which some will be hers to wear, was a gift from my
grandmother when I was eleven when she visited me after a trip to China
and gave me snippets of the silks she had found there. The colours and
pattern of this sea coral like print is perfect for this mermaid, and
she reminded me that I had it, so I could not refuse her, thus the story
and preciousness of this silk will grow into the hands that will come
to love her.</span><img alt="No photo description available." class="x1bwycvy x193iq5w x4fas0m x19kjcj4" data-visualcompletion="media-vc-image" height="640" src="https://scontent-lhr8-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/359758531_795265785438577_3179733500501333463_n.jpg?stp=cp6_dst-jpg&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=730e14&_nc_ohc=6lcNZIQ5SOgAX8cosxe&_nc_ht=scontent-lhr8-2.xx&oh=00_AfD2NAj-vFh_L8BPaJB6alAMCf1ZlzDUNgRauPmPHRbVNQ&oe=64CFF36E" width="545" /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/reel/2269482556572154" target="_blank">Slowly she swam into being and called for her companions </a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto">When
I began stitching this wonderful being I had no idea that she would
call forth so many companions and whisper about such precious snippets
of silk for me to stitch with. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjejcpt1W2nLcUhkYEfv6hO5YsWELVCX17V5-I4tLX-gQZdTV6YpgJ8CU9WoAkLGYzgBIV1xIAjAS0PWnTJO2zjqw68fgNoI34-qXpatTLMw15E0jXWBtMyWntrYRNspPdMxg6L9UwpKYzzeUuOvi_ErPZtZ-eb-DCXfCGmVDcbBkn8uVwq2DceStHxBy4/s2859/fullsizeoutput_20e7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2859" data-original-width="2537" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjejcpt1W2nLcUhkYEfv6hO5YsWELVCX17V5-I4tLX-gQZdTV6YpgJ8CU9WoAkLGYzgBIV1xIAjAS0PWnTJO2zjqw68fgNoI34-qXpatTLMw15E0jXWBtMyWntrYRNspPdMxg6L9UwpKYzzeUuOvi_ErPZtZ-eb-DCXfCGmVDcbBkn8uVwq2DceStHxBy4/w568-h640/fullsizeoutput_20e7.jpeg" width="568" /></a> <br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/reel/1202963547043961" target="_blank">Here she is cradled in the sea</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXl1vps88YtZJLheRY21wswyklSn4BylcrY6dPQcvkgTvnAP_l-5ZFGBK7g3eGV9sGjQW0id_R_b9wu-8X3TCGZiYRiYGwtMIIJXbiW6YLzEIscjTjXobaIvgetYpYP5xdWXPFYcv19RkBz7LPqPeiRW8Y-sxK_FtRqY7IaFFWqNtgSmIUwefT5jHR5E/s4752/IMG_0228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf7wHVpv0dVoikIYrcEG0AorPn-8-8-8lCvmPgu7h_Q4_kfthftRKFxQWXSosFYj-eWfW8bMJtLx1eM39kb6vsRKX6WerYNSzv1Ik9UCRCuoTq7A1wEWGqceyeJ3XsnIe1yJccbzR8tdkPAgOOezWn3qY06AiVGCTbBaVJ5n2azd6qLJpSjwCH0KmwDY8/s4752/IMG_0215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4752" data-original-width="3168" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf7wHVpv0dVoikIYrcEG0AorPn-8-8-8lCvmPgu7h_Q4_kfthftRKFxQWXSosFYj-eWfW8bMJtLx1eM39kb6vsRKX6WerYNSzv1Ik9UCRCuoTq7A1wEWGqceyeJ3XsnIe1yJccbzR8tdkPAgOOezWn3qY06AiVGCTbBaVJ5n2azd6qLJpSjwCH0KmwDY8/w426-h640/IMG_0215.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><img border="0" data-original-height="3168" data-original-width="4752" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXl1vps88YtZJLheRY21wswyklSn4BylcrY6dPQcvkgTvnAP_l-5ZFGBK7g3eGV9sGjQW0id_R_b9wu-8X3TCGZiYRiYGwtMIIJXbiW6YLzEIscjTjXobaIvgetYpYP5xdWXPFYcv19RkBz7LPqPeiRW8Y-sxK_FtRqY7IaFFWqNtgSmIUwefT5jHR5E/w640-h426/IMG_0228.JPG" width="640" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAXaYqtW7LOK9djbPq9Pw4t5Z2yCRivw6VUef0iGC08LRNepX12U7GCv-YuM8uaEHM8If_7PKr5FWemQ07a0C9ZnCVR3j8Uge58-TmJH0UL1e0mOl2OGlfPfA60UHmdgObGkkc9CDYBRSyVPBovvE2fNSbEIs5ZMoC7j3-RYmHeG8xIHRitcQOOxiHoY/s3028/fullsizeoutput_20eb.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3028" data-original-width="2674" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAXaYqtW7LOK9djbPq9Pw4t5Z2yCRivw6VUef0iGC08LRNepX12U7GCv-YuM8uaEHM8If_7PKr5FWemQ07a0C9ZnCVR3j8Uge58-TmJH0UL1e0mOl2OGlfPfA60UHmdgObGkkc9CDYBRSyVPBovvE2fNSbEIs5ZMoC7j3-RYmHeG8xIHRitcQOOxiHoY/w566-h640/fullsizeoutput_20eb.jpeg" width="566" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEdgxdLEbOO7qHJmHAR9nRTxBrojTwJPcE0s75le1y3HAhl4P3Bi3ycO_mCxYDoRtVceWXSvpdAZFU77wVganTCMRtOMT-LWotXfE1luZpN5ij6StsxiHAlgurW19NLsg7DwaDwzi4yZKB1FVHlexPjOnOkI6pe-REwk0yDYd-ioM-XFIspu7Tb8bAzM/s2646/fullsizeoutput_20ea.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2636" data-original-width="2646" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEdgxdLEbOO7qHJmHAR9nRTxBrojTwJPcE0s75le1y3HAhl4P3Bi3ycO_mCxYDoRtVceWXSvpdAZFU77wVganTCMRtOMT-LWotXfE1luZpN5ij6StsxiHAlgurW19NLsg7DwaDwzi4yZKB1FVHlexPjOnOkI6pe-REwk0yDYd-ioM-XFIspu7Tb8bAzM/w640-h638/fullsizeoutput_20ea.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto">This piece contains so much precious
treasure and has so <span><a tabindex="-1"></a></span>much possibility
for play, story-telling and celebration of the sea. Of course the
mermaid and her babe can be taken from their seat amongst the waves and
either have their tails around them or their feet showing, all their
companions, two jelly fish, a seahorse, a starfish and schools of tiny
fish can be moved from their places on the mobile too, and as well as
the sea treasures that I have added you may choose to collect some of
your own to twirl from the mother of pearl buttons around the mobile.
The size of the mermaid means she is perfect to hold in a puppeteer’s
way for the telling of your own magical seaside story.</span> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/reel/214100727884281">Your story might begin like this..</a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto">And then this
beautiful pearly heart shell that came as a gift on my seashore just as
I was completing this magical creation, it felt like a beautiful
message of validation from the beings of the water and it fits so
perfectly at this mermaid's heart</span> <br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="May be an image of heart" class="x1bwycvy x193iq5w x4fas0m x19kjcj4" data-visualcompletion="media-vc-image" height="640" src="https://scontent-lhr8-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/363361582_802838024681353_7081599635533091671_n.jpg?stp=cp6_dst-jpg&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=730e14&_nc_ohc=XwUQaXTrzT0AX9ls0pA&_nc_ht=scontent-lhr8-1.xx&oh=00_AfCN-uqz2xrsmpuqmpn6UB7LlhnRCNwcAwdarMbLFmDfIQ&oe=64CE6555" width="480" /> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW1yCJVKFvGcSRjydha94Aq0hXxthtpOD7s1XlGsIDM_6agLglJo-xc4m01x3oVdJZYFQ1pkaAPaq_eITPF2JvRnkddyRiBdq17_I7m_5MsBbPvKzUbR_-YfhRykro3HsGaxrRxpSVRSDLTxKBFY5U7qU-xk4D-tCKr67zSDrdyigsfFU-V9GgmzRLejQ/s2946/fullsizeoutput_20e9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2946" data-original-width="2710" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW1yCJVKFvGcSRjydha94Aq0hXxthtpOD7s1XlGsIDM_6agLglJo-xc4m01x3oVdJZYFQ1pkaAPaq_eITPF2JvRnkddyRiBdq17_I7m_5MsBbPvKzUbR_-YfhRykro3HsGaxrRxpSVRSDLTxKBFY5U7qU-xk4D-tCKr67zSDrdyigsfFU-V9GgmzRLejQ/w588-h640/fullsizeoutput_20e9.jpeg" width="588" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">She is now looking for a magical home to play in.<br /></div>The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-85747797121083527292022-11-16T16:35:00.001+00:002022-11-17T01:38:38.186+00:00Kindling joy for Advent <div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">In silence she walks in slowly
stepping full of awe, towards the spiral’s inner flame and
there she reaches out her apple held candle, asking for the kindling of her light<br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US">Softly the darkness sings, as she carefully
carries her light outwards towards the world </span></div><span lang="EN-US"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6o-Y1v8s78QT0Wwq0OKYeVg6otVbv6CIGBhAnQnxTKA8NDkx2-FFOiYLGkQMl8rdlu2SlqCsytdSEja5aSCtV_xpgfeAZlLdHdO_xhyHzMwpo4S6s1BAcYnfHZ1d-XPGIMMDQ4Phs-ao1AMwzk7VKBtqDX5ZTts1LbjDxbwkItMroupm3R6xdeOJ/s4752/IMG_8754.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3168" data-original-width="4752" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6o-Y1v8s78QT0Wwq0OKYeVg6otVbv6CIGBhAnQnxTKA8NDkx2-FFOiYLGkQMl8rdlu2SlqCsytdSEja5aSCtV_xpgfeAZlLdHdO_xhyHzMwpo4S6s1BAcYnfHZ1d-XPGIMMDQ4Phs-ao1AMwzk7VKBtqDX5ZTts1LbjDxbwkItMroupm3R6xdeOJ/w640-h426/IMG_8754.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirK33B-ES4MsWjIC9R1YFTlGLGbi31njPXhu9tWThQzSMxZpo5uQ_mMWUXAwHjL-XgFjDjLnfftO0ADxocRJ7tiQbiRFfYmMtyFJq7ZJ_SDldXdS4IioSzYHZt8-u7dzZMJHLnt-cQJyFBhtWDl3WwSwGKdtDQkHX0Lak2W5llD8UwG-MmSVNlqpyW/s4752/IMG_8757.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4752" data-original-width="3168" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirK33B-ES4MsWjIC9R1YFTlGLGbi31njPXhu9tWThQzSMxZpo5uQ_mMWUXAwHjL-XgFjDjLnfftO0ADxocRJ7tiQbiRFfYmMtyFJq7ZJ_SDldXdS4IioSzYHZt8-u7dzZMJHLnt-cQJyFBhtWDl3WwSwGKdtDQkHX0Lak2W5llD8UwG-MmSVNlqpyW/w426-h640/IMG_8757.JPG" width="426" /></a></div></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHLyPpXH2fupDOLn19Wjt2YJPfUHkalFj1LuzVPavM-kaHXYrwyjrzCKztsapVJaNnJ3GkjX57zRi-lyPMj_hXhsERb2f-zPLBGVTv0mmQLMbNH4_mgEK18owAeADPB6FVlpiStzx8Q2XT7l7ktnB3rahJVAsXx92qUSdi7FFcywU1qY46I7Ud7Kh/s976/advent%20spiral%20beginning%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="976" data-original-width="858" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHLyPpXH2fupDOLn19Wjt2YJPfUHkalFj1LuzVPavM-kaHXYrwyjrzCKztsapVJaNnJ3GkjX57zRi-lyPMj_hXhsERb2f-zPLBGVTv0mmQLMbNH4_mgEK18owAeADPB6FVlpiStzx8Q2XT7l7ktnB3rahJVAsXx92qUSdi7FFcywU1qY46I7Ud7Kh/w562-h640/advent%20spiral%20beginning%20.png" width="562" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7O_a8hLSZyRwPF1CW9EYXGYlSOiWvcqvUGZyequYP6Nr1Ro4RdW_J1upbvJaj2t7OA5Z2KkGnJ7fwA36OTslC5gyzwlOa2RqTqR_EH40ivW07esXvzODx69o4EnWkYc8OeaFIPPpRr1TyMczAoVEXB0cQqtfQ__kS7slawj8NC_sBT6c70jmIdqeP/s1084/advent%20spiral%20.2.png"><img border="0" data-original-height="1084" data-original-width="868" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7O_a8hLSZyRwPF1CW9EYXGYlSOiWvcqvUGZyequYP6Nr1Ro4RdW_J1upbvJaj2t7OA5Z2KkGnJ7fwA36OTslC5gyzwlOa2RqTqR_EH40ivW07esXvzODx69o4EnWkYc8OeaFIPPpRr1TyMczAoVEXB0cQqtfQ__kS7slawj8NC_sBT6c70jmIdqeP/w512-h640/advent%20spiral%20.2.png" width="512" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmmf__eQZj-ne5WiXYIMNCH2UcqDxbhxRJh4s_WhKxkkjFk4ZqRRSDhkzR5e6IuYBF3V-Hk_b09jtSQR64TQnEfO5Z8hux-ve0_yyG89ExI1i3LK1I-HY9eZ6pe2cMas4voHUUtBMgAsvoUYr__5eUVFlDP3ShPVLUC8qHVkXJeOy9KZuMZZDriak/s1098/advent%20spiral%20.4.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmmf__eQZj-ne5WiXYIMNCH2UcqDxbhxRJh4s_WhKxkkjFk4ZqRRSDhkzR5e6IuYBF3V-Hk_b09jtSQR64TQnEfO5Z8hux-ve0_yyG89ExI1i3LK1I-HY9eZ6pe2cMas4voHUUtBMgAsvoUYr__5eUVFlDP3ShPVLUC8qHVkXJeOy9KZuMZZDriak/s1098/advent%20spiral%20.4.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1098" data-original-width="812" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmmf__eQZj-ne5WiXYIMNCH2UcqDxbhxRJh4s_WhKxkkjFk4ZqRRSDhkzR5e6IuYBF3V-Hk_b09jtSQR64TQnEfO5Z8hux-ve0_yyG89ExI1i3LK1I-HY9eZ6pe2cMas4voHUUtBMgAsvoUYr__5eUVFlDP3ShPVLUC8qHVkXJeOy9KZuMZZDriak/w474-h640/advent%20spiral%20.4.png" width="474" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFzQ0SI-LDSeBp0EpJWbNIieR6RtdUys3kf78MU94JeyjQyjOxVXFJ4oWLaGKAR7pRFlw22e4sxfEmNBv9mKoOAujzBx1UFG6oQb_g_kMoplBwQWlDwCxxh5CcaBIKJE8iChGPnE8qw2oyJ6bxJa1_nCpTMcI3WPVP5nFV1Gw-NzjTrS-TJ2jh7aaH/s1048/advent%20spiral%20.5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1048" data-original-width="828" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFzQ0SI-LDSeBp0EpJWbNIieR6RtdUys3kf78MU94JeyjQyjOxVXFJ4oWLaGKAR7pRFlw22e4sxfEmNBv9mKoOAujzBx1UFG6oQb_g_kMoplBwQWlDwCxxh5CcaBIKJE8iChGPnE8qw2oyJ6bxJa1_nCpTMcI3WPVP5nFV1Gw-NzjTrS-TJ2jh7aaH/w506-h640/advent%20spiral%20.5.png" width="506" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdMpCpTFKA_wc3nHA09osq86xnk2j2pYIO3wWFjTn6vTGtiNJ25n9ILzVPE9_IPt3fpetypixMHYRHfNflCElxPFi-oeUxx0p_18qGDMNmNJ2EmjGZXa9ER6yb6DEua1gpg5FW-7cPdZCKD2oKsUL_m4-O6dSreBeoJ6tEvjypyzDXXQaXVMoC9xLE/s1048/advent%20spiral%202.png"><img border="0" data-original-height="1048" data-original-width="806" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdMpCpTFKA_wc3nHA09osq86xnk2j2pYIO3wWFjTn6vTGtiNJ25n9ILzVPE9_IPt3fpetypixMHYRHfNflCElxPFi-oeUxx0p_18qGDMNmNJ2EmjGZXa9ER6yb6DEua1gpg5FW-7cPdZCKD2oKsUL_m4-O6dSreBeoJ6tEvjypyzDXXQaXVMoC9xLE/w492-h640/advent%20spiral%202.png" width="492" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwtuB-gRc9YcHFCwxfE9XWcXpvHjtcO0TFLQDS6zqeGIxl3UXomKzxwImYphJ9xtWrgiD2TCDJc4_ztDaxP5tq047gSc4R9gMv9r8QnjL5ej5ZocLLXlSxF6V1Qm_MXsEs7GJbYu0_Ob3VlrAovlXhrX4ri13dH0Pwy0EAZWA69gIFSg8gW7uZbS0L/s1104/advent%20spiral%20.6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1104" data-original-width="830" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwtuB-gRc9YcHFCwxfE9XWcXpvHjtcO0TFLQDS6zqeGIxl3UXomKzxwImYphJ9xtWrgiD2TCDJc4_ztDaxP5tq047gSc4R9gMv9r8QnjL5ej5ZocLLXlSxF6V1Qm_MXsEs7GJbYu0_Ob3VlrAovlXhrX4ri13dH0Pwy0EAZWA69gIFSg8gW7uZbS0L/w482-h640/advent%20spiral%20.6.png" width="482" /></a></div><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzirPPu7HXr3Z2zfysZnNBBvcwMi8n-5dL6kADAH1mBqsRgdZsQXcgOUG9RgC8SPQcaZnHT9jnRs-3cVxX72A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-75205811818017294932022-08-06T13:58:00.001+01:002022-08-06T13:58:43.045+01:00How they sometimes come to along<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">I never unpick, I never remake, I never rub out, I never
ever dispose of a little being’s form once it has started to become. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">To correct or get rid of a partly created little cloth body
would, to me, be akin to sending a message to the magical wisps of inspiration,
to the fairy folk all around, that their influence and enlivening presence is
no longer welcome to guide my stitching hands, it would be like saying that I
know best about the way they should appear, it would be a gross act of self-importance
on my part. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Often though, I start to sew, to gather a little bundle of
cloth and fold and mould, without having much awareness as to what I am doing,
and then I look at what is in my hands and wonder how this one fits with what I
thought I was doing. And sometimes I put that little one down, sometimes unfinished,
and often then they disappear, in the muddle of my scraps of silks and patterns
and wools, and I forget all about them. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Until I come across them again, and wonder when and how they
began.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95g3apWac8qlrRf4_n_H5GDCNjVrqhMHJdJbqGO-Wzl_-fuXtXpcYwtKZosi2YcJPWuS_4fve3AJTE9pEVdnyYFHN0minroorh9QtQ2B_LRHI3mYeFLTjxtlBmoZ4MNrjEoP99fb7FX65Pbka3S7vy33E_uyX1kcFq_D2W6KPxcxkfCeNY0xyXfN9/s3024/IMG_1548.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95g3apWac8qlrRf4_n_H5GDCNjVrqhMHJdJbqGO-Wzl_-fuXtXpcYwtKZosi2YcJPWuS_4fve3AJTE9pEVdnyYFHN0minroorh9QtQ2B_LRHI3mYeFLTjxtlBmoZ4MNrjEoP99fb7FX65Pbka3S7vy33E_uyX1kcFq_D2W6KPxcxkfCeNY0xyXfN9/w640-h640/IMG_1548.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">This is how it happened with this wee one</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Last week she reappeared at the edge of my pretty plate of
tiny bits showing me a scrap of white silk veil and asking for her bonnet. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSGhjOPXaSYaw6KZTfZV3N2ENhIGXA08RIBwKRe_w-btyXk8x15frR-HHV9KmaXLmKQKG9sH7IwFZR1TUYvgymGsbFXpeL8tPwsNqEdydUrkqfMu4YFgfAhuD17I6WxBRYoMDZVN6E5eFnQg75delVZjZp3dVgE4PurTdNdDheoxwsnQcl1M5exp7/s3024/IMG_1549.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSGhjOPXaSYaw6KZTfZV3N2ENhIGXA08RIBwKRe_w-btyXk8x15frR-HHV9KmaXLmKQKG9sH7IwFZR1TUYvgymGsbFXpeL8tPwsNqEdydUrkqfMu4YFgfAhuD17I6WxBRYoMDZVN6E5eFnQg75delVZjZp3dVgE4PurTdNdDheoxwsnQcl1M5exp7/w640-h640/IMG_1549.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then
as I painted her peeking out face, she told me that she was ready to show me where
she lives and introduce me to her friends. <br /></div><div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3CBMAR4sAf4" width="320" youtube-src-id="3CBMAR4sAf4"></iframe></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">How lucky I feel to have held them <br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDwN6tBNq3wwDOkf3lTqhcxCsILfOUWYNIMGhGaGAoHInAklF76Zn8XywQoikBlvwmCZ__BoyEi2ZKwH5jMnJrXYKTBmdUHiwSI5iXoD2NgDDG4DXrLcRzurluyhy3FWHMaC5V8eMWrCY608eeYxNSttYvyJ80RweFlEWkfCqJjU7kqZphVscNSL2/s3773/fullsizeoutput_1b6d.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3110" data-original-width="3773" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDwN6tBNq3wwDOkf3lTqhcxCsILfOUWYNIMGhGaGAoHInAklF76Zn8XywQoikBlvwmCZ__BoyEi2ZKwH5jMnJrXYKTBmdUHiwSI5iXoD2NgDDG4DXrLcRzurluyhy3FWHMaC5V8eMWrCY608eeYxNSttYvyJ80RweFlEWkfCqJjU7kqZphVscNSL2/w640-h528/fullsizeoutput_1b6d.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p></div>The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-87582788265207692752022-08-01T10:35:00.000+01:002022-08-01T10:35:15.245+01:00The Lammas Queen and the young farmer - A Harvest Story <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjensixNljbzsiih0lkzgwhsYUgibh8wC6sHUn_zjYgnl4qSLcH540QPBoYZBr529jTZ8GjtUcvFQ1j3L2ZpStyNUsqGHPV_vEh_6lz64u906OVhkGHvxxVBqyyzAridNFACaxiCT_8kTgs0vF3jHSukKe8KOdx_PFw5q_0p3KiTfzXHO2hd9sFPEdJ/s4752/IMG_3842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4752" data-original-width="3168" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjensixNljbzsiih0lkzgwhsYUgibh8wC6sHUn_zjYgnl4qSLcH540QPBoYZBr529jTZ8GjtUcvFQ1j3L2ZpStyNUsqGHPV_vEh_6lz64u906OVhkGHvxxVBqyyzAridNFACaxiCT_8kTgs0vF3jHSukKe8KOdx_PFw5q_0p3KiTfzXHO2hd9sFPEdJ/s320/IMG_3842.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span>Long ago in this beautiful land there lived a
farmer and his wife, they loved the land and the land loved them, their little
granddaughter lived with them and she played every day about the farm.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Every year the earth gave a glorious plentiful
harvest and the farmer reaped all that he needed for his family. Those in need
from the village were always welcome to take a share and the edges of the
fields were always left for the creatures of the hedgerows, the birds, the
field mice and the squirrels all gathered grain for the winter stores and the
gnomes of the forest enjoyed a feast too. Every year the farmer and his wife
saved enough grain to sow again in the spring, just as their ancestors had done
for all the time that the farm had stood on this land. And every year in
gratitude the family would bake two wonderful harvest loaves, they would bless
both and eat one loaf in celebration, the second loaf would be left in the
field in offering the Lammas Queen.<span>
</span>Between the late setting of the summer sun and the early morning, whilst
the little girl slept, the harvest Queen would pass over the fields blessing
them with her love, as she gathered the loaf which the little girl had left for
her. Year followed year and the farmer and his wife grew older and their
granddaughter grew to be not so little any more.<span class="tojvnm2t"> </span><span>With each passing year she became more
and more able to help her grandparents, and they were grateful’</span></span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span>Then it happened one year in the early spring,
just before sowing time, that the elderly farmer fell and hurt his leg. How
would the seed be sown this year? All night the farmer worried, but in the
morning his granddaughter said to him. ‘Have no fear, I am a farmer now too, I
will sow our fields.’ </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span>And with all her heart and will the young
farming girl set to work. She had helped her grandfather many a time and knew
what to do, but though she knew, she was not yet practiced and though many came
from the village to offer help, they did not know this land as well as the old
farmer. The grain was sown with all will and heart, but in somewhat higgledy
piggledy ways. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span>Nevertheless, the seeds waited patiently in
the earth, and the gnomes sang songs through the ground, songs of green
sprouts, sounds of growth, songs of the golden harvest that the seedlings would
become. But that spring the rain and the sun did not come in the ways that they
usually did to help the seedlings grow, the rain came late and then too much, the
sun shone hot and then not enough, the wheat grew huddly and muddly. And the
elderly couple worried for the harvest, though they tried hard to have faith
and not show their granddaughter their concern. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span>On the day before the beginning of the harvest
the old farmer stood at the edge of his field and hoped that somehow this
scraggly crop would be enough. That night the Lammas Queen moved over the
field, and as she passed the wheat seemed move with her beneath the starry sky,
and it seemed as if it doubled in size and strength. The next morning the old
farmer was joined by his wife and granddaughter and many from the village to
harvest the grain. And what a harvest it was, as glorious and plentiful as
ever, with as much bounty as anyone might need and plenty of seed to save for
the following year. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span>After their celebratory meal, the young farmer
carried the loaf of gratitude to the edge of the field, and waited, long into
the starry filled night, for this year she was determined to speak her
heartfelt thanks to the Lammas Queen.</span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMn5QbQdiEUadyblBs-XfAh8P9qN_mstKxirl_uiAKBlYTY2fIudFC6PC5RA9AKPFHPgN7qY7Qpyw3Eq2R6nL67_TpUXKew5CZn7xnpgn31lniTHcoIDCRCzPZRyvquYL4jd8kFNw40p19SzuCNXLVztj-rbgX4VGGizcEpiKRnQIY0jDh03XyNKTn/s3309/fullsizeoutput_25b.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2510" data-original-width="3309" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMn5QbQdiEUadyblBs-XfAh8P9qN_mstKxirl_uiAKBlYTY2fIudFC6PC5RA9AKPFHPgN7qY7Qpyw3Eq2R6nL67_TpUXKew5CZn7xnpgn31lniTHcoIDCRCzPZRyvquYL4jd8kFNw40p19SzuCNXLVztj-rbgX4VGGizcEpiKRnQIY0jDh03XyNKTn/w640-h486/fullsizeoutput_25b.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div></span></span><p></p>
<br /><p><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-72945324512852482552021-03-02T00:17:00.001+00:002021-03-02T00:17:13.921+00:00The Story Teller's Spring Tale<div style="text-align: left;"><p><br /></p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><span><span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">With a sudden jubilant burst of sunny glory, spring arrives, and all around new sprouts of green, tinkling flower bells, lauging children, singing birds, life in all its astonishing forms can be felt rising and reaching towards the future. And it is this vital energy which has co-created with me, spinning itself into this last and first of the story teller's seasonal stories. </span></span></span></span></span></p></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><span><span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #38761d;">(You can find the stories for winter, autumn and summer in the previous posts)</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9m0h7ivSt_IRUDwfl0LGUScLiDLeRrqo8onS-69QGUNgFgbVQaPZDN3uzYZAIpHYxLCKOuHQz1B0NvqEJfcN8DUm0xtLpm9lH15N7XoccAIV1esl2FqWJRUiEH2Dyevje3h15eEsdFZ0/s2048/fullsizeoutput_111b.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1869" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9m0h7ivSt_IRUDwfl0LGUScLiDLeRrqo8onS-69QGUNgFgbVQaPZDN3uzYZAIpHYxLCKOuHQz1B0NvqEJfcN8DUm0xtLpm9lH15N7XoccAIV1esl2FqWJRUiEH2Dyevje3h15eEsdFZ0/w584-h640/fullsizeoutput_111b.jpeg" width="584" /></a></span></span></span></span></p><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><span><span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">THE STORY TELLER'S SPRING TALE</span></span></span> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Suddenly, in the bright instant of this and each Spring
morning, all the tinkling flower bells begin to sing, and their delicate fresh perfume
fills the air, tickling the story teller’s nose, as the children pull at her
skirts, rousing her from winter’s long sleep. ‘Wake up! Wake up!’ they urge, ‘It
is time to sing, it is time to dance it is the time… the joyful time to rise!’</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug7_BjtRTVgW2ViZjCn2iA0TJmCx2NPlz_zfZp49hjHBeR6u1IU7tMq0m_13PNvAuMLBkpJmlzXVHLsqawqz7cPZ76Mqz3k-aNlFsgQvzjXTOAfjpI9-LrKNtK53u238EReZxkqAmfac/s2048/fullsizeoutput_111a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1395" data-original-width="2048" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug7_BjtRTVgW2ViZjCn2iA0TJmCx2NPlz_zfZp49hjHBeR6u1IU7tMq0m_13PNvAuMLBkpJmlzXVHLsqawqz7cPZ76Mqz3k-aNlFsgQvzjXTOAfjpI9-LrKNtK53u238EReZxkqAmfac/w640-h436/fullsizeoutput_111a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEMvSDRW6RnR_T_bql_uZLnhEw5KUapXENSgkavNdxczmUDj9bLsaY2c_D6ENEFCYvg7X0TUTy5pSniOHsofy1E-kUXxbgydm70vVJRtBWl-YwWsJoSx10YzcCcFdwXGkj8zqpG_lj-AA/s2048/IMG_3898.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEMvSDRW6RnR_T_bql_uZLnhEw5KUapXENSgkavNdxczmUDj9bLsaY2c_D6ENEFCYvg7X0TUTy5pSniOHsofy1E-kUXxbgydm70vVJRtBWl-YwWsJoSx10YzcCcFdwXGkj8zqpG_lj-AA/w640-h426/IMG_3898.JPG" width="640" /> </a><span style="color: #6aa84f;">The story teller catches the children’s outstretched hands
and they run as fast as the wind down the hill to the dew-filled valley and
there they all take off their shoes and wriggle their toes and jump so high
that the frogs and the bunnies hear the <i>thump!
thump! thump! </i>of their feet and come to join the play. Then hop, skip and
away they go, </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxnwzpTUuPn-V8WeMHNVkgW5iTHe7lJQ1d-t7v71x90nC33LB3nOtlkv49RDr9gsgUtEgNLEEkm_rKylDENpYaU5qjHBW_BFO0sITW9rY_HPFpGgMa0f2SiLzskABTefP1U7JyQ0Wutrs/s2048/IMG_3910.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxnwzpTUuPn-V8WeMHNVkgW5iTHe7lJQ1d-t7v71x90nC33LB3nOtlkv49RDr9gsgUtEgNLEEkm_rKylDENpYaU5qjHBW_BFO0sITW9rY_HPFpGgMa0f2SiLzskABTefP1U7JyQ0Wutrs/w640-h426/IMG_3910.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0lxzH3gmqzmjaiEwIa_KNLqBoUdev-n1_g0MPjFpJxqJcNX3pKrX4hG3AdmLiSmuxKwMln8PNAbm01rymZQxO0KpZgomOlcpDMlF_gNxoZM7uV_7ydJk08hzEauiPrqI7Mx_gczfEGg/s2048/fullsizeoutput_111d.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1475" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0lxzH3gmqzmjaiEwIa_KNLqBoUdev-n1_g0MPjFpJxqJcNX3pKrX4hG3AdmLiSmuxKwMln8PNAbm01rymZQxO0KpZgomOlcpDMlF_gNxoZM7uV_7ydJk08hzEauiPrqI7Mx_gczfEGg/w460-h640/fullsizeoutput_111d.jpeg" width="460" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
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{page:Wo</font></style><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nLGW6DiFxG8" width="320" youtube-src-id="nLGW6DiFxG8"></iframe></span><p></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><p></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div>
<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""Calibri", sans-serif">All but one.</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv3TDPv6__qw7DCxxCCo1XgKz1C0L78NBxqvJrUXEs_AJ_Aa0SSPp3QsSBP-B2-xJdX996Fxj8LedfeBngtMCWwcP7oAGfTrkH5MFm0eYLswys71sZf7yWoB3QuucFY8E0O0HZetnknvY/s2048/fullsizeoutput_1126.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1788" data-original-width="2048" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv3TDPv6__qw7DCxxCCo1XgKz1C0L78NBxqvJrUXEs_AJ_Aa0SSPp3QsSBP-B2-xJdX996Fxj8LedfeBngtMCWwcP7oAGfTrkH5MFm0eYLswys71sZf7yWoB3QuucFY8E0O0HZetnknvY/w640-h558/fullsizeoutput_1126.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""Calibri", sans-serif">This mama rabbit comes slowly, shyly
closer, and the story teller puts her finger to her lips, <i>'shhhhh...</i>' and the children
still their play. </span></span></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""Calibri", sans-serif"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhyjGLQCPc6FYg1LXEJTY5HkCZ_UnvBHzwpIaPJEaZw1_ICo5w0qbDgZpe3LOpFaso9ueVS9TiC8A0qT_YDFbRccwKVf5pOtd-AQlw_8RK9i8pYO8lzG8FFmWkwzXNzsfzFaMAyiVCzA/s2048/IMG_3920.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhyjGLQCPc6FYg1LXEJTY5HkCZ_UnvBHzwpIaPJEaZw1_ICo5w0qbDgZpe3LOpFaso9ueVS9TiC8A0qT_YDFbRccwKVf5pOtd-AQlw_8RK9i8pYO8lzG8FFmWkwzXNzsfzFaMAyiVCzA/w640-h426/IMG_3920.JPG" width="640" />
</a></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">At the edge of her burrow mama rabbit shows them a small
bunny, too floppy to hop, and the story teller bends to see, a thorn and redness
on a tiny paw. </span></p></span><span style="font-size: medium;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC7bXtg1watoXWp3FbOFyS5N_p8_4ojB-qMDEcZtwK5MR-0m730MGOs0KBVFMlaT_LX2M0866f57l8jgKoX_BFGLic9KzRHweydEQaHLSQAzhF7cWUSeGmTrz8SuQ2DiYzGFHzeN-bas/s2048/IMG_3921.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC7bXtg1watoXWp3FbOFyS5N_p8_4ojB-qMDEcZtwK5MR-0m730MGOs0KBVFMlaT_LX2M0866f57l8jgKoX_BFGLic9KzRHweydEQaHLSQAzhF7cWUSeGmTrz8SuQ2DiYzGFHzeN-bas/w640-h426/IMG_3921.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Gathering the this littlest one to her heart, the story
teller leads the way to the old evergreen. </span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2wib_Q5Wtd6C-LS6XbsD9tKTODORFYKwcUVudGoxMafizJWjvsCB-5r61IaCo_czX_5uhXlh-ONWJI_B-3ZheOqQVrQnY1xhLkYDeb5JrzfteLbJefrEO5MW9QTrGEcyKVUFM2sufiI/s2048/IMG_3926.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2wib_Q5Wtd6C-LS6XbsD9tKTODORFYKwcUVudGoxMafizJWjvsCB-5r61IaCo_czX_5uhXlh-ONWJI_B-3ZheOqQVrQnY1xhLkYDeb5JrzfteLbJefrEO5MW9QTrGEcyKVUFM2sufiI/w426-h640/IMG_3926.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection</style></a></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">And there with his back in the tree
they find the green healer and they hear him too, fluting a conversation with
the birds. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimnIDEAvxj2i9XrzPDkPjeJCURIHoVqkWHY4UtoNxue6oNoK3188MyBfDGEh9uxybAd6dwQW3V4TONvlhVrVUytZbezkGYKw-ZGNOhRV61zO7NM8F8mrnWyulVr1dZcqFl3GPqRaT1mTg/s2048/fullsizeoutput_1119.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1415" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimnIDEAvxj2i9XrzPDkPjeJCURIHoVqkWHY4UtoNxue6oNoK3188MyBfDGEh9uxybAd6dwQW3V4TONvlhVrVUytZbezkGYKw-ZGNOhRV61zO7NM8F8mrnWyulVr1dZcqFl3GPqRaT1mTg/w442-h640/fullsizeoutput_1119.jpeg" width="442" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBTEYUnEEYYEQrRlr4JwgN5qdUWv79mCFtmLawVyBIp0LX9Du-rgapugZCvjX6V_BDySyvEAAeygyUm2SgkO1ysMlO5HcO8atdjKkZgDBdtYhwtIH83-jsqwoXzwm1jg8CvbVgs8XjU5k/s2048/fullsizeoutput_111e.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1655" data-original-width="2048" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBTEYUnEEYYEQrRlr4JwgN5qdUWv79mCFtmLawVyBIp0LX9Du-rgapugZCvjX6V_BDySyvEAAeygyUm2SgkO1ysMlO5HcO8atdjKkZgDBdtYhwtIH83-jsqwoXzwm1jg8CvbVgs8XjU5k/w640-h518/fullsizeoutput_111e.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><span face=""Calibri", sans-serif">He stands and into his magical hands the story
teller lays the tiny bunnykin. With a quick tenderness the thorn is gone and a
healing compress wrapped round. </span></span> </span><p></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNb8sZc-6xvOKCSqMo3MCqD26qMFggkClPgYbxEzzX0q_SnpDE7AmB-oxYmclicqCvo_YSSj6t0h-cTPKIiviXq7Agqo6odkSkEAKBFhYslNJJ9iCnZBH57DTIYN5pOW3uKmR9ljN8d8U/s2048/fullsizeoutput_111f.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1520" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNb8sZc-6xvOKCSqMo3MCqD26qMFggkClPgYbxEzzX0q_SnpDE7AmB-oxYmclicqCvo_YSSj6t0h-cTPKIiviXq7Agqo6odkSkEAKBFhYslNJJ9iCnZBH57DTIYN5pOW3uKmR9ljN8d8U/w476-h640/fullsizeoutput_111f.jpeg" width="476" /></a><span style="color: #6aa84f;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Then in cradling arms the little one sleeps while the others
prepare for their spring parade. Whistles are whittled, flower crowns woven,
new songs are learnt as voices weave rhymes and rhythms between one heart and all
others.</span></span></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF26EWuDS0C7hU8oo7A2wg7iY-wtiOgxoTeWjEQr5aGXpN_NCD_vd4GdXLac2z8E2cbdZObDf_ZMM-jeWGlMA1Trvh3as5e4-BmWLULzptRhIOi8ZW5odlHGElzOa9tPgV_x4lUhu8vkc/s2048/fullsizeoutput_1120.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1435" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF26EWuDS0C7hU8oo7A2wg7iY-wtiOgxoTeWjEQr5aGXpN_NCD_vd4GdXLac2z8E2cbdZObDf_ZMM-jeWGlMA1Trvh3as5e4-BmWLULzptRhIOi8ZW5odlHGElzOa9tPgV_x4lUhu8vkc/w448-h640/fullsizeoutput_1120.jpeg" width="448" /></a></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Then together into the day the children step, a jubilant procession
into the future, and all the birds and butterflies do follow too, in faithful
exultation for all which each spring brings forth. <span></span></span></span></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">
</span></span></p></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRMjg07xxSs0kW751_jG_LAuNrMWEimjECn58UcvAlK4nQ917g_TFxT8j_1QdtZIdB577BMXY6_lf8NnhkCC7Widkvfxb05y6aM8shKu_6q4vhQR1-HvwNIfHIdwtbsiO3rh8LO4c2Sg4/s2048/fullsizeoutput_1123.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1430" data-original-width="2048" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRMjg07xxSs0kW751_jG_LAuNrMWEimjECn58UcvAlK4nQ917g_TFxT8j_1QdtZIdB577BMXY6_lf8NnhkCC7Widkvfxb05y6aM8shKu_6q4vhQR1-HvwNIfHIdwtbsiO3rh8LO4c2Sg4/w640-h446/fullsizeoutput_1123.jpeg" width="640" /></a><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span><style>@font-face
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{page:WordS</style></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7Kx9L4OMC_8" width="320" youtube-src-id="7Kx9L4OMC_8"></iframe> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;">And now with this story I am wishing you all a glorious spring!</span></span><br /></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"></span></span></p>The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-34470558736357922882021-01-31T12:00:00.001+00:002021-01-31T12:13:38.329+00:00A Story Teller's Winter Tale<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Already the feeling of folding inwards towards the longest nights is fading from our beings, and we begin to notice more light in the skies and start to step with the lighter feet that echo the new hopefulness of the earth as it awaits its awakening into spring. And while I wait for this magical story teller to whisper her spring story to me, I share with you her gentle dreaming winter's tale</span><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFVKFkl_i5jOZHSeiI-kKaQm6fmu_U80Vdn8LuktWQLj77fuWQLd4onCxtkOKgrTi0vMFG0v4VxMX4V3Pqhk5nW64k3qlAt-fSh8PEdXFsyXJGGd7t6lCY6ltNeR44Hr2875BvpsLE8A/w640-h406/fullsizeoutput_108b.jpeg" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">A STORY TELLER'S WINTER TALE <br />Now in the stillness of endless time past-by and forever to come, in the sleep spell of the world, in the waiting of winter whiteness, the story teller slips into sleep.<br /></div><div><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD8fDFSYIbJp2pCJSDHUWmNf3dgVAyQiDhy7w1QA4VJ6LDh4iA8fzUBoDY29kpbcHROa8Er1_BhnQe_by39MHKiiHNcLSjHvmKjYeCXkYBmNGHEvfUxlNIuTGf8TPCgrlTVg5f0tArUrA/w640-h508/fullsizeoutput_108d.jpeg" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PiH-CorVhkJqlEowGmBrCbLLUfBQAI2B4WktpK9LAxolwOdtT5JtrAWQYFzJVlPAqyqaPLXHGsOzFjP3etwAGOdu-fbIBJdgNI9jVYVCPWlLmWKQ8fSV4wcvSwA9ZikHt1lfUirUB3o/w640-h426/fullsizeoutput_108c.jpeg" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Nestled in the folds of darkened ground below, she shares her dreams with the earth. <br /></div><div><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdyHI06GzpEVIL1q6a32FCJZl9rCXxdFal1B3XBFVUYlzH0VyKc31xVwnWmbNfIOA9Tow4IBIqaVx7Dsn0hvRNVIGyfkEDEJm9VxZ-rS1JJBcw85QUvTJfspa0uUlv7QHwOrt9E1l1Psw/w640-h426/IMG_1590.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> She dreams of the children, dancing, singing, she dreams of their stories, their adventures, their worries, she dreams of the bees and their humming and the taste of honey and of the love letters that the flowers write on their petals to be carried on the summer breeze with the fluttering butterflies. She dreams of the splish and the splash of raindrops and the cloak of mist that wraps itself around her shoulders, so gently from the sea. <br /></div><div><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_Fc9qtTI_ngBTySaKMWviDZvwBLhfJovniAD2RDyoWKSDfqJHMLO1EX_ZjkFfkXTZhWelpn-2o6_LC7ajJDm2gKT5kYN_Bbg4Nj8jWSTPYd6-Fq6UKnURb5sH6yIG6Vc1davDE4spKg/w640-h426/IMG_3362.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_Fc9qtTI_ngBTySaKMWviDZvwBLhfJovniAD2RDyoWKSDfqJHMLO1EX_ZjkFfkXTZhWelpn-2o6_LC7ajJDm2gKT5kYN_Bbg4Nj8jWSTPYd6-Fq6UKnURb5sH6yIG6Vc1davDE4spKg/w640-h426/IMG_3362.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> And some of the story teller’s dreams seep into the lustrous layers of crystals, and some mingle with the messages carried by the roots of trees, and some rise up into the air floating high high into the sky to twirl with the falling feather flakes of the snow goose. <br /></div><div><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCl8crpaUjucBDm4sBMkkPpt9NA1jf85SyckEmeRtL71y-G87aMM8TULqGxSCNUVuSk21bROsg5XanP2Xc7LWuxb_R9OBrSBsN8I7gdYUR4sbVundgYlFBwrajkuZrY8XfH-6I_mWfMQs/w640-h426/IMG_3325.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The snowflakes flutter down and cover the ground and the laughing children join their bright lightness and scoop them up and play, because the children do not sleep through the sleeping time of the earth, they play, keeping the spark of joy for life alive. <br /></div><div><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgazm3-QECcSQL6jdVrFq-GPeNiWYkJ7XgykOXfrndJjORBe_E7_Jl-PwG7yDcq8vaNh4gOg45EGGmn0_bBNyV3ZXtYaEg40IYFQpwk5UtMHywdfYUuLNL9HuAKn3W0jfioRp-iMK0mZik/w640-h426/IMG_3395.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And now, amongst the happy shouts and snowball throwing and fast sledging, one dear child gathers the snow into a womanly form, drawn from the memory of the story teller’s kindly cradling lap. <br /></div><div><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKsGon0Nsq6IAtiJZN5ZVotkfSZE0GFa4CdoKpnEeFwWJRtqnBJwDk0cDhQnJyVrHtSn6jXJPrWfWMHwzd3u5rn5IBkAm48WXnaeNdjMmoROWY6qOzKqLImd-tmyhSmi3cs4BDCzqvft0/w640-h426/IMG_3347.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8JiT_966L8YjDye09XfHApEhz-SgU93dzCAJNjyvPrnfSNB7-sntq3OueDfvrbi1tWMJYYLgpVSDVVszRPCJGVagDVaZ8fNOs6Nm2plVgeNM84wplbUYvXetZTCZsz1728Gb5ElrvRw/w640-h426/IMG_3350.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCVjdbEmegKHPDl1i8kPvyreewlw915FthGtzVHWO4nt27rPzw3ob7ElgXm4TA8or6lWQSj75NHl7QoeQqLfryEIoXG8JV2WkYLjCBumRe4nmyeGZQO_U9QfRt20yKMZbZ4bz2VrlDoDI/w640-h426/IMG_3404.JPG" /> </a><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmVKz9vkxY7PlUfzxPoK9DX7cIvVO_6jxC8PYHE19BLsgRmhEd2td0rIezgeBpWr0_i-JOQ1aVud1gaODVsMI9PofnkSCLKkR0nr7ql3-CfTO35ZmKie8CE8SF42eS6-zp_1WCj40ZGaI/w640-h398/fullsizeoutput_108f.jpeg" /></a><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLM2n9aO9u9rAJRgkvUZnFBWCtue2hQcUw4nTwn3kl5ARGAWkhQwHRS9quCblaG0xizozDZt1suEC-pRlnmh45_VaxmY5T4elxZLVGxTL4zISpe6k8Gkioyt0-kDthO7RLruya3QcbPC8/w640-h434/fullsizeoutput_108e.jpeg" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> All this bright joy is happening in the cold endless air, while under the blanket of snow, the story teller rests, with all her dreams, and all the goodness of her heart, which the children have gladdened all year through their play. And her goodly gladdened heart now nourishes the earth, giving strength and form to the newly growing beings, letting them know of the world they are becoming into and the children who will play with them and touch them with their tender hands and love them with all their hearts in turn. <br /></div><div><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9oBJaYgxxAsaEr9k5GCB-ma-218LZ2bs677LASnW7xxW5XS2ozaaVZ7d-ZpL80kxngzDkeDHRcmYO_iAgbsqSai2mFz9nIynFqJFgPiblzjORwgVpz_UCKTXVblDWEPokHyWLl08ci8/w640-h426/IMG_3380.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IvX4XbTSs6-f6PIm20eizfdqvs8Nk86bjm-nW2kCEAarznguWOcB3L6o5KwfLOxSk-BQJdrahtWb6-ST-Zvwme-2p8o7MfPs_9X0-KR7mgVaG-4AxiNMC2vwVJ_raIYN5fkmvZv95HQ/w640-h426/IMG_3366.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So soft in the ground is the sighing sound of the story teller’s dreams, and the meanings that they tell is truly older and younger than any words that I know, but if you were to lay your ear against the cold earth and hear with your imagination the feeling that you might hear, would surely be close to a lullaby. <br /></div><div><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0vDt4eUGHmvGdX3cKfsamBdkLoI_PC_7J_uAFYw73lrio5Nk3cCbtI_az_PqhrJS6TiKkrLj03W1CdseeNLiuC4iG__CujRwL6DMEHSzkU3hpg6XCpKwwFnORSV6bByxvj443cz3L8HI/w640-h426/IMG_3382.JPG" /></a><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-2384060660143187442020-12-20T23:35:00.000+00:002020-12-20T23:35:22.785+00:00A story teller's autumn tale <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">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.</span></span></span><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2TpU-5Xz9A8dRbjHeGamS2wgX49PAB0KrlpKzpl_8ZMKOE7xBluJipGJvrjA-XsJYgjFpo1PFumBFGnsSBxZxlkXJKdC4Jnj_BMtg8JpBUMS8dI_XuGM-4SrSIeazbTe6xMBYUqXUvCU/w426-h640/IMG_2592.JPG" /></a><br /></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">THE STORY TELLER'S AUTUMN TALE </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">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. </span></span></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqr_h6Jt9-95V_n_kht9DOdqsenbpJApC3vL2hMZpTxJZ7rqR_RJKhJ_y1t-dSXWnxHl9KEeBcFHEzQv4dSaNhuL6UM8qGW5qJloNSAbSkkwzBH5pcHf-PYKx3QitySRRsXknJEJ9I6-U/w640-h484/fullsizeoutput_ee7.jpeg" /></a></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAt0oO30ZejaDbR4xTZe7kpWIyHnj5SecK_LTUL8Ko48Nc1y__nxY1ZTPnyn6vvFGBcZQbc_sYUwir_Ens26Hpckk38zphtalL1wig4XgUdKw7K5qXwJlOUvZQLk3fV28MML2qwTOJXeU/w640-h554/fullsizeoutput_ee6.jpeg" /></a></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">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. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And this is what the children hear, from the leaves as they hold them near.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">‘Come come to the story teller’s hollow tree</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Bring all your gathered autumns treats</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Apples, cobnuts and blackberries</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">We will create a heart-filling feast'</span></span></span><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIiTmnr4hJXmaQMcezEuUO0mQfi9TZi4HGm1dv4P1wZVvn9P50Lno2WcILnVfIWptRMlpJKv7iydkfLivMchW61P3MYr09v6H_T5SdA_aQ7UDoTVdwkNT7ZZERwMzS9VMSgGJ7qzpS69g/w426-h640/IMG_2602.JPG" /></a></span></span></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEa99uSrDVOHaU6mCdZvWPqtmu-TKG2yG6MWSVetSGprnjQnQ_g8Fw7RjkEPHczKk7ZtSQL8Ht9VRBl1JmvUUoV-Ks9t41BWYYqoeomwCkr86raxifloF45OjwrZpxF-2wPaZd4bhmGfI/w532-h640/fullsizeoutput_ee8.jpeg" /></a></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And running and shouting, woohoo wheee come the children,</span></span><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Tumbling down the hill and tripping over the roots of the huge old hollow tree</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">They knock, and above them the rainbow bird peeps out to see.</span></span></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX-ah7zRX0mdAtKNqZUJV5Pk0rLgQdP0ca1tdhso_kuqFnqqci6_kwpoZOY60lCx17ZI2w9EqHDOzjWJngoxlwrbW383PvGqQVGVdqHHSlINY8srITot9Ro4wczSfiZE9SoyDv_cQoiVk/w640-h544/fullsizeoutput_ee9.jpeg" /></a></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6UFE2cujcdCdXaL_SSip2W0AEPHYFH4JYr2Ue75_PqeegJWiixGbpFnLprdauhkXQcVMyxj7u3FxKHwlgQSpzN8SssYQYDzr5KCSwBYRK5HJlAvXDJNneHFKCj8XKtgkXjP2DjmhBJs/w416-h640/fullsizeoutput_eea.jpeg" /></a><span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: medium;">'Yes yes dear ones' the story teller calls, opening the ancient trunk door, </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: medium;">'Yes leave your hats, coats and scarfs to amuse the wind </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Come in to the warm heart of our beauty-filled tree</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bring all you have brought, come share with me' </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/#" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi85OGvDbwmOTCtYmGLxypiueKDEnOvck8bYbw-pWsiHJKSA9F7NnlBfYqf5vF-t5XenVht630NvDHvU3PmdtTNxH32UvmBEdDJjrISXDqwavdq8UZLjh_5mq-AdaeoWSPlYuulzBpeK0/w640-h454/fullsizeoutput_eeb.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/#" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin3eVSc5F_eh1guWIukLiXayIQFxwlFytRni7gWS5lxd37zUCGNO8zy5nFT0CvcF5zCPu4_anvzUNU3-ktSWfyRcPonHuujEIhn6O_0lcAzwirI1rmpAk8ILr3RIgteJIp30rxcF4iTqk/w640-h426/IMG_2586.JPG" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And in that secret nook, all lined with the soft growings of the rainbow bird’s song,</span></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYx5reLIlO_ML285ghCApCxvLz2VjcqkCSArr8rsE1A7cuZtNJTc_lDdTEq3pgHZa2PgDXPm63hVoUCKORdwvSaKVLQFWEtOn4xoQmx5IC-qT4p7Hzu93YWCApPOa5NYfImsqwmsKnQ4/s2048/fullsizeoutput_eec.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1301" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYx5reLIlO_ML285ghCApCxvLz2VjcqkCSArr8rsE1A7cuZtNJTc_lDdTEq3pgHZa2PgDXPm63hVoUCKORdwvSaKVLQFWEtOn4xoQmx5IC-qT4p7Hzu93YWCApPOa5NYfImsqwmsKnQ4/w254-h400/fullsizeoutput_eec.jpeg" width="254" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The children shelter and show, all that they have gleaned and gathered together<br />Rowan’s shiniest conker is held by all<br />Daisy gives generous tastes of her seeded bread<br />Fern shows how to make a corn cobb doll and a dragon too</span></span></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihclFZjj-UG_PNmlqnJepgIRhPRy7iCj0y6TpCTiu-Wb9OTKy8LGgPZYGPGCGRW9ZmVAeVrEuG_kj1QOs9kwRlJfefXvU-Ea_i9k22KqgeobzbKyrXV2rgWH6Y8XkSiGXvKGJoyzU-0Mk/s2048/IMG_2620.JPG"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihclFZjj-UG_PNmlqnJepgIRhPRy7iCj0y6TpCTiu-Wb9OTKy8LGgPZYGPGCGRW9ZmVAeVrEuG_kj1QOs9kwRlJfefXvU-Ea_i9k22KqgeobzbKyrXV2rgWH6Y8XkSiGXvKGJoyzU-0Mk/w426-h640/IMG_2620.JPG" /></a></span></span></span><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Then as the last golden rays begin to slip, dipping behind the branches into the dusk. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The story teller takes the children out once more,</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">'Yes bundle up, so you all stay warm.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">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' </span></span></span></div><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rrQQOWbEiDeh2HgJEMAzGuAnEbtaTBpaBxWkdTtYgOfh801IDLS8y9s_HOsCWs873EZFliRI47X0aqyrSF1gw_y9pQdkZglEWBfAQKP5R7lQ-j29ZS6hxIdGUh6ObUHnFe7HZigFp-Y/s2048/fullsizeoutput_eed.jpeg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rrQQOWbEiDeh2HgJEMAzGuAnEbtaTBpaBxWkdTtYgOfh801IDLS8y9s_HOsCWs873EZFliRI47X0aqyrSF1gw_y9pQdkZglEWBfAQKP5R7lQ-j29ZS6hxIdGUh6ObUHnFe7HZigFp-Y/w640-h478/fullsizeoutput_eed.jpeg" /></a></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-size: large;">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</span></span>.<br /></span></span></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-5100064027091669982020-09-14T11:23:00.009+01:002020-09-14T11:45:52.885+01:00A story teller's summer tale
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_zSgOeGrz_vyUXyO8wNSniAFlm5Wti4wLDVXKo1Fi-TZFApCz9c_qs9pmDeZB3cBZXPPAh2G0EpEf84z3peItYbVbgnxod1297LyWkNtUJ7lHHTgQXN8SLNgIEuFkxtHI38JdcjRvvM/s2048/IMG_1573.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_zSgOeGrz_vyUXyO8wNSniAFlm5Wti4wLDVXKo1Fi-TZFApCz9c_qs9pmDeZB3cBZXPPAh2G0EpEf84z3peItYbVbgnxod1297LyWkNtUJ7lHHTgQXN8SLNgIEuFkxtHI38JdcjRvvM/w625-h416/IMG_1573.JPG" width="625" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The summer is slowly ebbing and soon autumnal winds will ruffle the golden
leaves, but I will carry the soft glory of this season within me as nourishment
for the colder darker months. And this magical story teller will do the same,
weaving the whispers and treasures that the playing children have entrusted to
her, back into the earth, from where they will spring once more next
year. </span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKqBxxTgxLkNJvGEYkdP37DYMiAdXhf0QqD0xn5dMuWb-OCkCnPqqh8qtPjlK31Ry8fNNFyGHz2qwF1etYBQa1lusXCLBLFRaCKVnpsbpUNecy9OBaQ5g-37xtzsS-9W2hK2zk2Bmobc/s2048/fullsizeoutput_d60.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKqBxxTgxLkNJvGEYkdP37DYMiAdXhf0QqD0xn5dMuWb-OCkCnPqqh8qtPjlK31Ry8fNNFyGHz2qwF1etYBQa1lusXCLBLFRaCKVnpsbpUNecy9OBaQ5g-37xtzsS-9W2hK2zk2Bmobc/w416-h625/fullsizeoutput_d60.jpeg" width="416" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">
</span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">It has been such a privilege to share moments of my summer time with this
wondrous being, who has become at the bequest of a dear kindred soul. This
story telling creation will have four seasonal story panels, incorporating
transparency work, silks, wools, painting and applique, and of course magical
beings to live and move within the frames. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UICcyVTI9g6aWmPALMw70q0JbvxywtL1Nua-g78AElXe7VtNBSqnvA7kB6ndqpT3WZSAC9NT-0Q68WWif4VTo-G3CI8luz3QO7-UZlZQZ2-kEkQh0CJAtVF0tOIFsxd-mA-ptePp9Dw/s2048/fullsizeoutput_d76.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1407" data-original-width="2048" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UICcyVTI9g6aWmPALMw70q0JbvxywtL1Nua-g78AElXe7VtNBSqnvA7kB6ndqpT3WZSAC9NT-0Q68WWif4VTo-G3CI8luz3QO7-UZlZQZ2-kEkQh0CJAtVF0tOIFsxd-mA-ptePp9Dw/w625-h430/fullsizeoutput_d76.jpeg" width="625" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Today I am able to share with you the summer panel and the story which will accompany
it, as well as a little song about the prince of the lavender and the bees.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdyHI06GzpEVIL1q6a32FCJZl9rCXxdFal1B3XBFVUYlzH0VyKc31xVwnWmbNfIOA9Tow4IBIqaVx7Dsn0hvRNVIGyfkEDEJm9VxZ-rS1JJBcw85QUvTJfspa0uUlv7QHwOrt9E1l1Psw/s2048/IMG_1590.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdyHI06GzpEVIL1q6a32FCJZl9rCXxdFal1B3XBFVUYlzH0VyKc31xVwnWmbNfIOA9Tow4IBIqaVx7Dsn0hvRNVIGyfkEDEJm9VxZ-rS1JJBcw85QUvTJfspa0uUlv7QHwOrt9E1l1Psw/w625-h416/IMG_1590.JPG" width="625" /></a></div></span></div><p></p><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"> </span><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>THE STORY TELLER'S SUMMER TALE </b> <br /></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">One summer noon, and perhaps within the folds of this
very moment, the story teller is listening to the hum of the bees. She listens
for their togetherness in their mummering song and she listens for each bee’s
voice, every one. For within their golden buzzing they carry the stories of the
flowers they have visited and the old woman hears all the joyful noticings and
sing-song questions that the children had come to her with last year.</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
</span></div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">She hears Rosanna’s wondering at the heart shaped petals
she had found and sent with kissed wishes into last year’s summer breeze. She
hears Fin’s enchantment with the tiny mint flowers and the small flutterer that
danced around them in the warm dusk of the rising golden moon.</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
</span></div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">And now as the listens dreamily to the bees, reminiscing,
she hears other voices of today, children’s voices from the meadow, coming closer
and soon they are here, today, perhaps in the folds of this very moment, gathering
into her lap, and around her shoulders and at her feet. In their hands they bring
treasures, their findlings of today, a seed to plant in the story teller’s
skirt, a shell of the sound of the tumbling sea. A stone so hot that it seems
to carry the sun, and carried oh so carefully on a purple blossom, a thirsty bee
who is too tired to fly.</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
</span></div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">The story teller holds each child and each child’s wonder
and takes their noticings deep into her heart, that the living world will be
nourished by all that the children have brought and that next year she will hear
these stories in the hum of the bees.</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
</span></div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">Then the story teller asks Isabel to help her sing a song
story with the puppets and all the children gather round to watch and listen.</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77y0v_s9Jqo" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiILJhi0wonXt1HdlU_6EW5OFEApIcEoR0g6apvq2YjeldYU5hNyD-zga14UiR0N850iwwY-dXD7rSBnVFi0aw4gP25cI9c87tsz-hg5yejgxep8TiwGj7S_37Q3SQ1GgkfPZJIM30TUkU/w500-h333/IMG_1585.JPG" title="Click here to here The Prince of the Lavender's song" width="500" /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span style="color: #674ea7;">Click on the picture to hear the song </span><br /></span></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">The Prince of the Lavender comes </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">dancing O'er the Green </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">Following the humming bees </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">to find his Golden Queen <br /> </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">He carries an offering </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">his flower sweet and sunny</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">In hope she will honour him</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">with just a taste of honey </span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVpyYIFEgLcELg-4uEDLPWXT8l7OQXc0zN2MADbxP2xWL2Qk3-EuyHtUv25uWBFoGqFJciDzMeFk12IOwGTLZ7QrcDToFRVn_kA8_mYUngt7wij2B6iNNztoNg8e0UOmKhcRe6W2i5Ng/s2048/IMG_1365.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVpyYIFEgLcELg-4uEDLPWXT8l7OQXc0zN2MADbxP2xWL2Qk3-EuyHtUv25uWBFoGqFJciDzMeFk12IOwGTLZ7QrcDToFRVn_kA8_mYUngt7wij2B6iNNztoNg8e0UOmKhcRe6W2i5Ng/w500-h333/IMG_1365.JPG" width="500" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I wish you a wonder-filled journey from summer into autumn. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></div>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-88326415557645415012020-07-29T13:01:00.000+01:002020-07-29T13:06:23.583+01:00The first unfoldings of a story<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-M9Q4rbgw2cq67yUxt-pgX7SqHDJFqhRmTo9zBxt0ARs1eUlUQj-cK3lyjPvCjMMFE7xIubW8nQhtl_yd1y93iRDNyEhgHgKjRa80QomRhyBuv0H6PYNkgoYcGzC_MoQDDcywpM3Ld8/s1600/rose+petal+babies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-M9Q4rbgw2cq67yUxt-pgX7SqHDJFqhRmTo9zBxt0ARs1eUlUQj-cK3lyjPvCjMMFE7xIubW8nQhtl_yd1y93iRDNyEhgHgKjRa80QomRhyBuv0H6PYNkgoYcGzC_MoQDDcywpM3Ld8/s640/rose+petal+babies.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A little while ago I received a beautiful message, a message
asking me to create a wonder-filled story, a message of deep appreciation and generous
trust in my artistry and my listening relationship with the magical beings. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
This message came from a dear mother, who had been looking
through the pictures of the years of my work and had fallen in love with a
previous cyclical tale of a story teller who listens to what the children tell
her of their joys in nature and weaves them back into the world, for children
to find anew.<br />
<img alt="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZHlbiGPGYHhBvZt1z3TMQMlu4Z5ZTqliWDgyUKBU4qA3bNxmv1rjLJUC_SxjQfXtSRfAdFjKGo1vIcMGFfyJfvdjno3JGeanCjg8U3azk47Akr2TAmQidnXcuiBJeb1m3w4hX0unCYIs/s1600/IMG_4904.jpg" class="shrinkToFit" height="729" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZHlbiGPGYHhBvZt1z3TMQMlu4Z5ZTqliWDgyUKBU4qA3bNxmv1rjLJUC_SxjQfXtSRfAdFjKGo1vIcMGFfyJfvdjno3JGeanCjg8U3azk47Akr2TAmQidnXcuiBJeb1m3w4hX0unCYIs/s1600/IMG_4904.jpg" width="682" /> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The original story can be found here.<br />
https://magicfairylady.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-story-tellers-dwelling.html </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpmNaCVjVmIfRUEZew5-72cBtU1Os7xnC-6x3NY-fdMi8-VQVhONsQ3lRSOOdvhM3odvMi22x-uCeAptobSJ5uXet5gYrAlImF_-apapE93iIilEcHlr_uPmUJ56oNfFdVdYGEBN6q8M8/s1600/IMG_4907.jpg" width="426" /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br />
I was at first a little nervous at being asked to create
from a similar place, but with the assurance that the atmosphere and frame of
that previous story could be used as a ground of inspiration with no
expectation of duplication, I felt deeply warmed by this request and found
myself breathing deeply with enchantment, my heart full, as I began. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And this beginning, which I share with you now, came of
itself so bountifully after I had let it sit with me… germinating ….rising …..becoming
what it would. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
One afternoon the words and images began to want to spill
themselves so I opened an old sketch pad that my mother had given me because it
had a few empty pages left in it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But instead of an empty page I opened onto a rosy warmth, left
by my mother, and this felt like the most perfect place to lay some of the
first words of the Summer part of the story. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuuhjkw2M0vuEB6CNJSeNUcYP9AhfbYgB8NoLzQBIomlouY3rVhrSsaKunrt7m8zHXi9pRNL5zK9wJt6L-VOTRts53cl9eKAnx0lMfCW8eZ9kYT3jgF4q5IlTK2h_MLvEplnXAdbCkXzs/s1600/IMG_1180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuuhjkw2M0vuEB6CNJSeNUcYP9AhfbYgB8NoLzQBIomlouY3rVhrSsaKunrt7m8zHXi9pRNL5zK9wJt6L-VOTRts53cl9eKAnx0lMfCW8eZ9kYT3jgF4q5IlTK2h_MLvEplnXAdbCkXzs/s640/IMG_1180.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZLreGL5ngscwl8QqOO4Xb_m9a9AEOgeV_PNfL8n9CRemtZvWqKFkzRq7DbvyVAsnqketz34JgzKrTuPmuh4LE2Cpwq2ZQfnKq1H7pfXj8pGloz7BnWNL0cFW4XMfMCvrj_EdXjVgPwA/s1600/IMG_1192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZLreGL5ngscwl8QqOO4Xb_m9a9AEOgeV_PNfL8n9CRemtZvWqKFkzRq7DbvyVAsnqketz34JgzKrTuPmuh4LE2Cpwq2ZQfnKq1H7pfXj8pGloz7BnWNL0cFW4XMfMCvrj_EdXjVgPwA/s640/IMG_1192.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
As I wrote in messy curves the archetypal female form in
nature welcomed my sense of lap and gathering, of sun in stone, of reverence and
reverie. And then, when the words were as much there as they wanted to be, the
opposite page with its smudge of pastel pinks and yellows beckoned and there this
story-teller showed her face, and in her expression was everything that I had
felt of her.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzlXhrZSeiKwNJ400ytKyFXmL5df3ALFz-cYeXYKlpy1L6MPaq-LaHCR7i6M1UUlYX4We6my-oFzuYbepxBJiH9DJ3muVRqMyY_aouSHn91_MOege0ER2R7bpki53c73cH0WprJGtO4g/s1600/IMG_1184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzlXhrZSeiKwNJ400ytKyFXmL5df3ALFz-cYeXYKlpy1L6MPaq-LaHCR7i6M1UUlYX4We6my-oFzuYbepxBJiH9DJ3muVRqMyY_aouSHn91_MOege0ER2R7bpki53c73cH0WprJGtO4g/s640/IMG_1184.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
And then from the curl of the movement of the her hair came the
puppet play of a child, the dance, in time, of tiny friends and insects with
their gifts.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXCGt0lh2h923HCy1PhOaIl268plGiiWKKr4a099qayPNH15KoYqOE9W8Yr1SaU5Fe8zgM0KU7lz8Uwv1uo2g1TEz8_4V3mFcTqRuc0MDeCUpO3rOa_KQbPCNXP99dL5KkCFm0qzx6zJc/s1600/IMG_1186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXCGt0lh2h923HCy1PhOaIl268plGiiWKKr4a099qayPNH15KoYqOE9W8Yr1SaU5Fe8zgM0KU7lz8Uwv1uo2g1TEz8_4V3mFcTqRuc0MDeCUpO3rOa_KQbPCNXP99dL5KkCFm0qzx6zJc/s640/IMG_1186.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
When I looked at these pages I felt a expansive gratitude to
the magical beings who were willing to come into this creation and also a small
trepidation and concern for whether I would be able to do justice to this story
teller in cloth. Then I breathed deeply with her and was reminded that her essence
was with me and that would shine through however she grew into cloth and
stitches.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But before I had time to sit with her and sew, a feeling of Spring’s
story came to me, and there three pages from the summer warmth was a pastel page
of spring green. And here into spring came courage and rhythm, and water and
movement bursting forth. And then came the frame, just the sense of the winter
before the spring and lastly autumn’s nourishing gratitude.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvf0IvxT8cD2RagTusD0p4rTYlzu-ZhvElmHbU26C462RGJd6kRSH8pnOdLcXII77nRVLx5p9oO3Ek_ECY9VdHIbd5eg26PJsb9a8pjHZxX2Xl42rSx3JvYZY0kU3M8XMmk49Zyf_Tgd0/s1600/IMG_1194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvf0IvxT8cD2RagTusD0p4rTYlzu-ZhvElmHbU26C462RGJd6kRSH8pnOdLcXII77nRVLx5p9oO3Ek_ECY9VdHIbd5eg26PJsb9a8pjHZxX2Xl42rSx3JvYZY0kU3M8XMmk49Zyf_Tgd0/s640/IMG_1194.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still haven’t told
my mother about this serendipitous coming across and use of her left-over seasonal
beginnings, I know that she will be so happy, but I couldn’t show anyone any of
it until the story teller was more strongly here. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And amazingly, after another time of dreaming sleep, she is
coming, she has shown herself and my fingers and seeing have found her and
heard her and love her. And we have played in the garden weaving summer into
her hair.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMkR0UKQ6S7pWizaCEROOqjRyC7biFUNF5Wm4YhcUPMokYvi1Er6KMtizBiwUtemSAKKcyy6O4AIQw7jHnNEQnEvkcB5RapMq1051OtqijIA2ATZ8tFUoRlIW8pHO9xnWVX8XqdPAPg9U/s1600/IMG_1350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMkR0UKQ6S7pWizaCEROOqjRyC7biFUNF5Wm4YhcUPMokYvi1Er6KMtizBiwUtemSAKKcyy6O4AIQw7jHnNEQnEvkcB5RapMq1051OtqijIA2ATZ8tFUoRlIW8pHO9xnWVX8XqdPAPg9U/s640/IMG_1350.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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So today as I share this beginning with you, with joy, I <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>trust that you will have a sense of the magic
of all this happening, and I am full of thankfulness for the possibility offered by such
a kindred request and by the holding which all of you have given over all these
years, that I might be here, doing what I love, in conversations with the magical
ones. </div>
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The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-50345463952016757422019-06-09T22:39:00.000+01:002019-06-09T22:39:36.472+01:00From trash to treasures - creating wonder from empty boxes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
This is a little story of serendipity, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A little story of how wee sweet Nicoletta the Treasure Collector came to be.</div>
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One sunny afternoon, when I was showing one of my older daughters my new deodorant, she made a little comment about the fact that there was still a fair amount of packaging involved, despite its eco credentials. <br />
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And though I had already put the box aside to reuse in my own packaging of wee folk, I started to play with ideas of how this sweet little box might become something more fun and worthy. <br />
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At the same time I had been casting my net of inspiration towards fairyland in the hope of a little idea to help a young girl who has been having a less than easy time at the moment.<br />
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And then just like that, smile-making-thoughts started to skip into my mind... a little treasure collector, in her own little treasure box, which might sometimes, with play, become a gift shop or such like. A little something that could be taken out and about for company and purpose, on less than pleasant outings.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
And so it all started to become</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
And one little idea led to another </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
And I found out more about Nicolleta the wee little treasure collector</div>
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And so when I sent her to meet her little girl I was able to add a letter </div>
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And now I share this little happening with you all,</div>
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In the hope that it makes you as happy as it made me, </div>
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And that it inspires the creation of other fun and treasure from empty boxes. </div>
The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-59532670715014829352018-08-26T18:03:00.001+01:002023-08-01T11:10:23.070+01:00I believe in fairies, truly <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNmRt_TvrTcSqMpD530IW-YE4IrrIGFnYDNV8HpeIa8PvZVfrmlNqhkjOOk0xHE4IOhqxC-TnJQmiABprZMRXVTLnWDkPtJ8e1vEztoeFDv2bt_nAih0Qgf8CQtZaOXbWlaBFKMDfs9RU/s1600/IMG_3913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNmRt_TvrTcSqMpD530IW-YE4IrrIGFnYDNV8HpeIa8PvZVfrmlNqhkjOOk0xHE4IOhqxC-TnJQmiABprZMRXVTLnWDkPtJ8e1vEztoeFDv2bt_nAih0Qgf8CQtZaOXbWlaBFKMDfs9RU/s640/IMG_3913.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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Some things are hard to express, sometimes putting things into words feels almost inappropriate, a clumsy capture and thus an alteration of an intangible essence. Sometimes in saying things, in trying despite our ineptitude to communicate more than we can, we make ourselves vulnerable, we risk ridicule for our willingness to know what we cannot quite know.</div>
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For these reasons it isn’t always easy for me to say ‘I believe in fairies… truly.’ What I mean when I say this is that I believe in fairyness, in ethereal beings, in the aliveness of the natural world, an aliveness which we are called to perceive, which wants to be known, with which we can communicate daily, in moments, and outside the bounds of time. When I say I believe in fairies I mean fundamentally that I believe in that which as a child I knew to be true, one of the truest things.</div>
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Often as I go about my days I am aware of the aliveness of these beings, or to put it another way, of the forms of this aliveness. Sometimes this awareness is simply there, in magical places, or at twilight, and sometimes I am quite surprised. Always, these encounters give a sense of awe. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually such noticings and interactions are small, indescribable moments, a little <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oh there you are</i> or a small shared breath, perhaps quite appropriately soon dissipating, leaving just a trace in my sense of existence. Such moments are hardly substantial enough to try to communicate.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinponKpp7S4yvxpJFf0bBqon0opR0E7a9gL0FLkccawJyesJfCVbwgSOoec20MIeeDAwXQOFr7LvG1wreT9OWO_dKEUbX5yAF_kwy8DHzN0ZOJM-8cXHBYKnXeO2OLZ1v4uVr9Hx0tni0/s1600/IMG_3915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinponKpp7S4yvxpJFf0bBqon0opR0E7a9gL0FLkccawJyesJfCVbwgSOoec20MIeeDAwXQOFr7LvG1wreT9OWO_dKEUbX5yAF_kwy8DHzN0ZOJM-8cXHBYKnXeO2OLZ1v4uVr9Hx0tni0/s640/IMG_3915.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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But now and again perhaps, it is important to mention these happenings, perhaps most importantly to share with others and thereby support these truths.</div>
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Mary Oliver offers us</div>
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Instructions for living a life.<br />
Pay attention.<br />
Be astonished.<br />
Tell about it.</div>
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A recent interaction with Marna Widom, an artist who I admire greatly, who’s images seem to me to reflect her own experience of the ethereal realm, reminded me of the importance of the importance of the ‘telling about it.’</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcaOi2lsTcRlN0hu5uXJU5QE8wJIZOq0j33MI-dZRxCMn8oRs0fvtFs-cjmHUrHmHJv-XU8bV_O6plkODa7aUDvjuSl1skg83ha5DI90omCdhAhCLlP4p7XAhfWCrjKpEmDzrhye4vlA/s1600/gnome+stick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="542" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcaOi2lsTcRlN0hu5uXJU5QE8wJIZOq0j33MI-dZRxCMn8oRs0fvtFs-cjmHUrHmHJv-XU8bV_O6plkODa7aUDvjuSl1skg83ha5DI90omCdhAhCLlP4p7XAhfWCrjKpEmDzrhye4vlA/s640/gnome+stick.jpg" width="408" /></a></div>
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Marna commented on a picture which I shared of little beechnut hats sitting on my fingers, my fingers giving playful visibility to the beings beneath or within the hats, these simple pictures resonated with her, and so we came to exchange a few images of those beings which we have seen, showing themselves to us in forms with which we can identify, within drying flowers, seeds, wood. Soon our friend Lucinda Macy joined in too.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZIgBQoLit8XZ-UtRA4VuRsGf9ZoQqaov-QOJzO8hHfpAArWQfRQEjCKtvTD1ojqVIjWXOKbnlH7C6o8YJLP2-wzHDAU0ibFMHjywCyAx4eeBXGkXr98eya_N2yZQZ-MCC21b3jqiZiSA/s1600/IMG_3815.JPG"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZIgBQoLit8XZ-UtRA4VuRsGf9ZoQqaov-QOJzO8hHfpAArWQfRQEjCKtvTD1ojqVIjWXOKbnlH7C6o8YJLP2-wzHDAU0ibFMHjywCyAx4eeBXGkXr98eya_N2yZQZ-MCC21b3jqiZiSA/s320/IMG_3815.JPG" width="211" /><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuoO7-q3dB-ogR8lNJBflvUlfVLNqfDuNdf9Wx-x5cswhcpjQUpNNy5u3utuBglsyBO7hjo3Y0wQJqXjOAV_5dvUTk6MCgREd3REi0qxg-0TcUEcEinwTvKqvIemeKlAfK3NzYDnA1dig/s320/IMG_3812.JPG" width="211" /><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5T1YTsrGY8Yv4axS6lMmpZELkHzlQ9W4hJbQINJidLyd_GrnyzwNEw1j9GdZfvIqVmGv_458fbGOP_0kwzPpOnbB3edt9v8Y08MdJTfuD9uBj4zyjwA3YpN5TrpUbghyQyepGXJv90qM/s320/IMG_3813.JPG" width="211" /></a></div>
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It is through the simple nourishment which that sharing of wonder gave me that I find myself with tender courage, taking the time to write about the following little occurrence.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrtPpjApEUou9LgamiBlVHX7G5bnQPLHmrzHNqvy8Gz1BUzYuPyBsXrpUKYu_EjKbHME_IKaCKWsgjiI8kIGEallAAINoSjhELhjJsvOKjHcn-s-PO8XhZtOjOlH3ysMBCBTPNftU_E4/s1600/fullsizeoutput_258.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="248" data-original-width="1600" height="98" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrtPpjApEUou9LgamiBlVHX7G5bnQPLHmrzHNqvy8Gz1BUzYuPyBsXrpUKYu_EjKbHME_IKaCKWsgjiI8kIGEallAAINoSjhELhjJsvOKjHcn-s-PO8XhZtOjOlH3ysMBCBTPNftU_E4/s640/fullsizeoutput_258.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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My daughter and I are walking along the pathway by our local allotments, she stops to look at the dry poppy heads, and as she touches one it whispers a little of its seed-sound, I pick it for her to see, shake it lightly, tip it over her hand and tell her that we can take the seeds to our garden. She is still, entranced, shaking into her hand then taking off the edges of the crown to let the tiny black seeds spill more smoothly into her hand.</div>
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I feel the mellow time, stretching like humming silence, into the warmth of the sun, into the next year, back to the forming of the poppy and long into seconds of looking. My daughter gives me the empty seed head, and asks for another, I stroke the slightly pink sun-browned paper-thin face, such a beauty, I feel a care for her, though her hourglass is empty, she is not empty, I lay her in my pocket.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjRQDJEOQXM-Dr9E8aq5BDcef9coRupZc2KHbTqW5tt8A4LhQSRaKyKU1CRjEraVeuJuGg4j93BPjKrkicTZt23fxkpIh5C5mUC5-dLmcZJTW7O0SACKC4DMg5kxfr1usrI1tfStgNc44/s1600/fullsizeoutput_254.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1265" data-original-width="1600" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjRQDJEOQXM-Dr9E8aq5BDcef9coRupZc2KHbTqW5tt8A4LhQSRaKyKU1CRjEraVeuJuGg4j93BPjKrkicTZt23fxkpIh5C5mUC5-dLmcZJTW7O0SACKC4DMg5kxfr1usrI1tfStgNc44/s320/fullsizeoutput_254.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Later I am peeling sweetcorn from my veg box and a memory of childhood creeps into me, the beard of the corn is plentiful, and I start plaiting it as hair, I fetch the poppy shell from my pocket, and begin folding, and forming, waiting, watching for the suggestions which the corn wisps make, ‘here is my hand, this will be my cloak’.</div>
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She becomes so simply, quickly, imperfectly beautifully. </div>
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I stand her on my daughter’s mantelpiece, she seems pleased.</div>
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Soon I bring some wee stitched ones around, they are pleased for my attention, and later for my daughter's attention. There is a fresh newness and invitation to noticing, to playing.</div>
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Two days later when I come into the room, I see she seems different.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-V9mhcqkcR4m2BSLxKq2f17hEv6Jgm5IPFN832AVY9huSCrs4671N4WPi2fjJXzTG41SbwOVep1y62Iq7v_USkVU1jfJaPdVGHjW3FM7UKTRSssqk4VHjdzWPpjYA7NhEGmmbu6cHM3U/s1600/fullsizeoutput_25b.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1214" data-original-width="1600" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-V9mhcqkcR4m2BSLxKq2f17hEv6Jgm5IPFN832AVY9huSCrs4671N4WPi2fjJXzTG41SbwOVep1y62Iq7v_USkVU1jfJaPdVGHjW3FM7UKTRSssqk4VHjdzWPpjYA7NhEGmmbu6cHM3U/s640/fullsizeoutput_25b.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I look more closely and realise that in the communication between her corn dress and time, she has started to bend, and in so doing she seems to be inclining towards the wee ones around her, listening to them, becoming herself. I am moved by this simple expression of her nature, of her stretching herself into this new body of hers, of her becoming as she dries, as her greenness dissipates giving magic into the air around her.</div>
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I share this blessing with you all, that you may be encouraged in your own moments of Autumnal magic. And, these words too, which I love, to accompany you...</div>
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I dwell in possibility by Emily Dickinson</div>
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<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/emily-dickinson"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"></span></a>
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I dwell in Possibility –</div>
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A fairer House than Prose –</div>
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More numerous of Windows –</div>
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Superior – for Doors –</div>
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Of Chambers as the Cedars –</div>
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Impregnable of eye –</div>
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And for an everlasting Roof</div>
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The Gambrels of the Sky –</div>
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Of Visitors – the fairest –</div>
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For Occupation – This –</div>
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The spreading wide my narrow Hands</div>
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To gather Paradise –</div>
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Marna Widom's work can be found here <a href="https://www.instagram.com/twelvelittletales/" target="_blank">@twelvelittletales</a><br />
Lucinda Macy's work can be found here <a href="https://www.instagram.com/willodel/" target="_blank">@willodel</a></div>
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The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-3166736826752853442018-06-21T14:26:00.000+01:002018-06-21T14:26:28.553+01:00Midsummer's first song<br /><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuU1SC-YE3lHMjnf0VE-bbdaXjb4j7B3VD91k0GTMS8tjtMLvVFit6cRgwVKJLIGn6cmBiLIICwR_eqVBUvF2SXhH6QlkT07CmijdIF57CU8ab28HMQuXN4zWvPcC__FBGx5zxZMfgDM/s1600/fullsizeoutput_13a.jpeg"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuU1SC-YE3lHMjnf0VE-bbdaXjb4j7B3VD91k0GTMS8tjtMLvVFit6cRgwVKJLIGn6cmBiLIICwR_eqVBUvF2SXhH6QlkT07CmijdIF57CU8ab28HMQuXN4zWvPcC__FBGx5zxZMfgDM/s640/fullsizeoutput_13a.jpeg" width="452" /></a></div>
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You probably already know<br />all about the garden folk who help the garden grow.<br />The gnomes who nourish the roots,<br />The fiery faeries who guide the sunbeams to ripen rosy fruits,<br />Those swift small sylphs bearing up in the air,<br />Dandelion wishes to grow here and there.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidj669sIUt-dvQuRbmtjaEj5x8Mvt5EL0EuXP-Ql-Oazl1DHJ-nWuUj-1LdtMLuvAwNcOJn2JTlXj9Enl4bPK9ng-zCd7E2htKeY15MLnd3icXRLohgIubSQmGZJh8_u0IUyvBfZY-2Ow/s1600/IMG_3075.JPG"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidj669sIUt-dvQuRbmtjaEj5x8Mvt5EL0EuXP-Ql-Oazl1DHJ-nWuUj-1LdtMLuvAwNcOJn2JTlXj9Enl4bPK9ng-zCd7E2htKeY15MLnd3icXRLohgIubSQmGZJh8_u0IUyvBfZY-2Ow/s640/IMG_3075.JPG" width="426" /> </a></div>
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But I wonder if you might have heard</div>
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Of the wee ones who help the birds,</div>
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Carrying twigs to furnish nests</div>
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and helping find berries that taste the best.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1cZaTTmM9qrpQKXG0j9PSagMx-gN5_Tp_B8dAQ5r0lpEDzyTTL1rtn4POQVeU0cGOE-vk1FyCWRa5HF8dMre0Nohon40kbhUUyOMAnHz2gxkebElmz6eI_sgCilf-vHszGqbtlyKZW8/s1600/IMG_3080.JPG"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1cZaTTmM9qrpQKXG0j9PSagMx-gN5_Tp_B8dAQ5r0lpEDzyTTL1rtn4POQVeU0cGOE-vk1FyCWRa5HF8dMre0Nohon40kbhUUyOMAnHz2gxkebElmz6eI_sgCilf-vHszGqbtlyKZW8/s640/IMG_3080.JPG" width="426" /></a><br /> </div>
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At this magical time of year,</div>
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When midsummer festivities are drawing near,</div>
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The birds all sing with happy din,<br />Enjoining festivities to begin.</div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkuVdWTjela8_jaX27lqRcjbTpUS8KHCiYu1GUL1NE71k0DEeqbLy4doHmcK0_qgVX2V_H0QOEIj7jlNnS0plu9WFRSspmTMIe04TPIiSw7ddWCr8KQ8m83U_hrFC5HdZDTGCIdzT7iU/s1600/fullsizeoutput_132.jpeg"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkuVdWTjela8_jaX27lqRcjbTpUS8KHCiYu1GUL1NE71k0DEeqbLy4doHmcK0_qgVX2V_H0QOEIj7jlNnS0plu9WFRSspmTMIe04TPIiSw7ddWCr8KQ8m83U_hrFC5HdZDTGCIdzT7iU/s640/fullsizeoutput_132.jpeg" width="556" /></a><br />Dear robin has a lot to do<br />Delivering mail all fairyland through,<br />So these little ones give a helping hand<br />Carrying letters across the land.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVjS2UfN8WEsceO7kELqbBxcfQ6zDqDZx5a4iudgqQCY0RgNEbRM4eQB604ahuySug5hE6FyaqtaPslm8cy4MYUWrkwXqT-mvvkpkQuEHsRsuytQs5GDjIgwTKirbB_PeayhCI0CRLUKU/s1600/fullsizeoutput_133.jpeg"><img border="0" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVjS2UfN8WEsceO7kELqbBxcfQ6zDqDZx5a4iudgqQCY0RgNEbRM4eQB604ahuySug5hE6FyaqtaPslm8cy4MYUWrkwXqT-mvvkpkQuEHsRsuytQs5GDjIgwTKirbB_PeayhCI0CRLUKU/s640/fullsizeoutput_133.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Le2ki4-dytnXfgX5xiYY8BpjredEyRYQro0FNY4vAzE2Iq4u1GnDtBydhh6oTnHS1sbjpvgqBNdz_F8hbhMt1Rdls2RdAS1Z2RGfr7UhMgO4a2-5AZLr30djN07NRpGvOqNMcBkdxbo/s1600/fullsizeoutput_134.jpeg"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Le2ki4-dytnXfgX5xiYY8BpjredEyRYQro0FNY4vAzE2Iq4u1GnDtBydhh6oTnHS1sbjpvgqBNdz_F8hbhMt1Rdls2RdAS1Z2RGfr7UhMgO4a2-5AZLr30djN07NRpGvOqNMcBkdxbo/s640/fullsizeoutput_134.jpeg" width="602" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpJ6ViDJWYCxAsZRaNTcjHZkx_iy9atfT12tnbUa1T6EQYuVYOUmH-qjNUQbGWDV6zr7PyNZI1LY7ZZJ9m3T4crp67dQjVrVcx2mjdA0cSxWM6YjFlB5lASdod0Og6LjV8WobYAShuZU/s1600/IMG_3099.JPG"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpJ6ViDJWYCxAsZRaNTcjHZkx_iy9atfT12tnbUa1T6EQYuVYOUmH-qjNUQbGWDV6zr7PyNZI1LY7ZZJ9m3T4crp67dQjVrVcx2mjdA0cSxWM6YjFlB5lASdod0Og6LjV8WobYAShuZU/s640/IMG_3099.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Here’s a tender request from the wind to the rose,<br />to share her petals as a carpet for tiny dancing toes.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5N31xDNPhg1Ho2yTtoxaHUh3FzYkFrcUNF2X3_acqk2UbOdjPUWhnyciYBXhpTOTHA9mIhVkpaYIjmxDB52wE70D6f6LFO1i_CWWNbbhoWJXdANqEmqM5NsfjkaHW3eF1zUE5YvHKsA/s1600/fullsizeoutput_135.jpeg"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5N31xDNPhg1Ho2yTtoxaHUh3FzYkFrcUNF2X3_acqk2UbOdjPUWhnyciYBXhpTOTHA9mIhVkpaYIjmxDB52wE70D6f6LFO1i_CWWNbbhoWJXdANqEmqM5NsfjkaHW3eF1zUE5YvHKsA/s640/fullsizeoutput_135.jpeg" width="534" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfcSn1qQllzIoc9kVTr7u4lACFP-SJbYLYNUasen7ZCdUsKa3Y9-obfEIhyphenhyphenKChRLTtKUfVuYHRuXCP0AKMx7SsGgjpI9_Re1MHClrVRsbHC6mxQfsvQX00bgmkQVHqPe6qPmz7mB9xq4I/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1a6.jpeg"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfcSn1qQllzIoc9kVTr7u4lACFP-SJbYLYNUasen7ZCdUsKa3Y9-obfEIhyphenhyphenKChRLTtKUfVuYHRuXCP0AKMx7SsGgjpI9_Re1MHClrVRsbHC6mxQfsvQX00bgmkQVHqPe6qPmz7mB9xq4I/s640/fullsizeoutput_1a6.jpeg" width="436" /></a></div>
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There’s a letter from the moonbeam fays to sweet slow snail,<br />Arranging for reflection of silvery sheen around this mysterious veil.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf9MgvwQoGBJLhNrnA1JpxV7yB239inKXNd_Xxcu8qZVAWw_7kHE4_do77yD5xg-8S3iHYTAJUj125P7RaZ0RU6EIhtaGLZFxFUV5ZT_8KyJcDt41Vrh2nAjKtia_8ni2Vy0raOH8ZofY/s1600/IMG_3118.JPG"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf9MgvwQoGBJLhNrnA1JpxV7yB239inKXNd_Xxcu8qZVAWw_7kHE4_do77yD5xg-8S3iHYTAJUj125P7RaZ0RU6EIhtaGLZFxFUV5ZT_8KyJcDt41Vrh2nAjKtia_8ni2Vy0raOH8ZofY/s640/IMG_3118.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /> </div>
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And a precious request from the fairy queen,<br />bearing a special stamp not often seen.<br />A letter to dear Robin himself,<br />Carried with great care by this kind helping elf<br />‘Honourable Robin, it is the wish of wee folk all,<br />That you should sing the first note of midsummer’s procession call.'<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8bwdnHZ4qfsGKIcdgN87_DR6JzGc9n-R10H67vZdyB-7FQY_MEDfv0jQRRH3EpM3-46Ad1q6r8uY8HXXlSGDj6owtd9WFArLKsiruH0u3z6oEqHZj8xj0tLTIWo7_U7hBSJvSoNM45qU/s1600/fullsizeoutput_137.jpeg"><img border="0" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8bwdnHZ4qfsGKIcdgN87_DR6JzGc9n-R10H67vZdyB-7FQY_MEDfv0jQRRH3EpM3-46Ad1q6r8uY8HXXlSGDj6owtd9WFArLKsiruH0u3z6oEqHZj8xj0tLTIWo7_U7hBSJvSoNM45qU/s640/fullsizeoutput_137.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uy1nRYTrAZtTMj5LFa8d6TJGHL_dGeW4c8zudhf7WtMYsFIKDSD3bXl7PfpRUl8SbchHlC9zPhWeogZn3KsTdMsPU4AAR58_OxTqahS8oP-SZwK2ggud1RwMCwUrfSsporMMu-899G4/s1600/IMG_3115.JPG"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uy1nRYTrAZtTMj5LFa8d6TJGHL_dGeW4c8zudhf7WtMYsFIKDSD3bXl7PfpRUl8SbchHlC9zPhWeogZn3KsTdMsPU4AAR58_OxTqahS8oP-SZwK2ggud1RwMCwUrfSsporMMu-899G4/s640/IMG_3115.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBcklK1BqlpBhqwxtvsDb7mQu9WOnHsp6rORjlSyuNk5jpZnmEpFYqKwLi3FQY32WkvEqYdepcJcBzWBUQb3zeUyXQl-lrG_M7kqTq5KqkFq4_7Al15LTgdQjALerSUInnTcn-18JrBg/s1600/IMG_3114.JPG"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBcklK1BqlpBhqwxtvsDb7mQu9WOnHsp6rORjlSyuNk5jpZnmEpFYqKwLi3FQY32WkvEqYdepcJcBzWBUQb3zeUyXQl-lrG_M7kqTq5KqkFq4_7Al15LTgdQjALerSUInnTcn-18JrBg/s640/IMG_3114.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Filled with all this preparation<br />the whole garden is full of elation.</div>
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<br />If you were to wake<br />At first day break,<br />And tiptoe to peep<br />While many still sleep,<br />You are sure to find<br />Magic beings of all kind,<br />Dancing midsummer blessings for the ground<br />To the trill of the birds first joyfully sung sounds.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBcSCPqmMUXiVTMna8yCdQq8gxj43tEj_Ks2VLT-aGbsI-Es8jqAh1yraI06aI38AS3uZzjfwFvCQDUBJxi7vNKv-fX5nIWV5MsMzVql7S2MWDUyVon07AvZ-s2Anyp67TQdTg_zQF1Nc/s1600/IMG_3122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBcSCPqmMUXiVTMna8yCdQq8gxj43tEj_Ks2VLT-aGbsI-Es8jqAh1yraI06aI38AS3uZzjfwFvCQDUBJxi7vNKv-fX5nIWV5MsMzVql7S2MWDUyVon07AvZ-s2Anyp67TQdTg_zQF1Nc/s640/IMG_3122.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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This story was first published as a tiny booklet insert in the bird-zine 'Perched' by The Knothole Tree, you can subscribe here: <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/617525287/perched-a-bird-zine-issue-5-junejuly">https://www.etsy.com/listing/617525287/perched-a-bird-zine-issue-5-junejuly</a></div>
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If you would like your own wee fairy robin helpers please request them from the Magic Fairy Lady here: <a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/604117216/robins-fairy-children-helpers-with-tiny?ref=shop_home_active_1" target="_blank">Dear Robin's fairy helpers </a></div>
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<br />The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-74370800939064643062018-05-30T18:03:00.002+01:002018-05-31T15:33:29.143+01:00Listening for the story of Midsummer's first song<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnULmXjmpWsjDeu3QP2tK-rFEZyb99GjQjgEidMIR0_d-_sRzJdiKxnxQkYLVtS3Ym9OTIFVQqDtE6V0cl0x1ZvDB_BM-Ehi5hV37lotUxpVsU-KG34UWkBcWEWO9r95_Ip2cT88U_OCc/s1600/IMG_3122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnULmXjmpWsjDeu3QP2tK-rFEZyb99GjQjgEidMIR0_d-_sRzJdiKxnxQkYLVtS3Ym9OTIFVQqDtE6V0cl0x1ZvDB_BM-Ehi5hV37lotUxpVsU-KG34UWkBcWEWO9r95_Ip2cT88U_OCc/s640/IMG_3122.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Quite a little while ago I received a lovely message from Summer of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/summersknotholetree/" target="_blank">The Knothole Tree</a>, asking me if I would like to write a small pictures story with special wee-folk, for her bird-zine Perched.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCZGCCTu00iRHJUEpUPYlclnTtXaAyVYDCUzaD0ElsYsN_ti2v872PLatQq2iInFbbQA2FLOMYe4z_SRXRyA75_p6tXYwQhYJZQ_aybMp-85jN84TwGGZsQ43Us9QDsH5hrshfgTXbiWE/s1600/33569538_2097976770460097_2960686987683561472_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCZGCCTu00iRHJUEpUPYlclnTtXaAyVYDCUzaD0ElsYsN_ti2v872PLatQq2iInFbbQA2FLOMYe4z_SRXRyA75_p6tXYwQhYJZQ_aybMp-85jN84TwGGZsQ43Us9QDsH5hrshfgTXbiWE/s640/33569538_2097976770460097_2960686987683561472_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Though I loved the idea, I wasn’t sure that I would be able to do it, as most of the stories that I write about the fairies and gnomes seem to create themselves out of their own necessity to be told and I didn’t know if it would work if I tried to do it another way. However it was a lovely thing to be asked to do, so I said yes and sent a little wish into the air…. And then I wasn’t sure all over again!</div>
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I still wasn't sure for quite a while, until one morning our little Robin perched our the garden bench, and looking at this sweet little character I realised that in all my searching for inspiration I was perhaps being too grand - the Robin seemed to be saying, ‘what about me?’ and ‘just begin, everyone will come for their story, the way they do’</div>
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And so I began stitching, with love, with trust,<br />
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And sure enough the little ones came and they brought their story with them. As they took their form in my hands - an older sister, a littler brother, kind helpers of dear Robin, in his joyful delivery of fairyland mail. These magical children in their hooded capes could easily be mistaken for little robins themselves as they echoed the birds flutterings through the air.<br />
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When they were ready the story was nearly written too, but still I had no idea how Robin would appear in the pictures. Should I sew the little fellow, or try to take a picture of our garden friend and somehow merge it with the photographs of the fairy children? Then I remembered that at Christmas time our two year old had fallen in love with ‘a robin bird’ in the Granny’s nativity gathering. I remembered that little robin and felt he had the perfect feeling for the story, so I rang my mum and asked to borrow him.</div>
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However, when I got him out of the box I realised that though he was just the perfect little character, he did not actually have a red-breast as such! My remembering of this wee bird had clearly been filtered through my daughters seeing and loving of ‘robin bird’ at Christmas time!</div>
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I wondered what to do, and came to the decision that the feeling, the spirit of robin-ness was most important, more important that precise or correct physical characteristics and so I simply added a little kerchief which echoed the red of his kind helpers' clothing, and so connected them all more perfectly than might otherwise have been.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoHD4sjLN5Zw19CASCP4JjjltjsTOHDVps2nZ6nWT2YS8KzlOMuOfutXeVTqJHRQL3SvrRNRTMW4hZC62oNNPLRQsg8Pgtk4eMrRPd1-fNVt65AcYhLdthSBnQlv1qFVVFdQOgbJ3Y3_A/s1600/fullsizeoutput_13a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1133" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoHD4sjLN5Zw19CASCP4JjjltjsTOHDVps2nZ6nWT2YS8KzlOMuOfutXeVTqJHRQL3SvrRNRTMW4hZC62oNNPLRQsg8Pgtk4eMrRPd1-fNVt65AcYhLdthSBnQlv1qFVVFdQOgbJ3Y3_A/s640/fullsizeoutput_13a.jpeg" width="452" /></a></div>
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And so the most important wee ones of the story were ready, but I wasn’t sure of the story’s ending, its reason, its culmination!<br />
I did have a sense of a special letter for Robin himself, and so I sat down with my tiniest paintbrush and painted... first the envelope for the snail, and then the rose with the sprinkling petals for tiny dancing feet, and then a fancy stamp on the largest letter….and Oh! The fairy queen just looked through the stamps window frame, leaving her dress and wings floating out behind! And then I knew, a letter from the Fairy Queen, an honour for Midsummer, a request from all of fairyland that Robin be the one to sing the first song of celebration!<br />
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And so I smiled at the air and said a little grateful thanks.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1H1QLNVgAf2XobBANbEbnpSXkiUH8Wj-Jfb03dNj5jvBp8kn847CiZzC0tBW1WOu_JqeHB4jz1wquA2BPhAZhM2WZvzb5OFyFQNVAr4AIHi1t2oaw6jPhsVX7BA4KQvxsp_3I66Hc8WI/s1600/IMG_3114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1H1QLNVgAf2XobBANbEbnpSXkiUH8Wj-Jfb03dNj5jvBp8kn847CiZzC0tBW1WOu_JqeHB4jz1wquA2BPhAZhM2WZvzb5OFyFQNVAr4AIHi1t2oaw6jPhsVX7BA4KQvxsp_3I66Hc8WI/s640/IMG_3114.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Though I had the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>words of the story, and the order of the small happenings, it was only when I took everyone out into the garden one sunny morning and took the photographs that the story truly came alive. As so often happens the wee fairy folk showed all the nuances unfolding.</div>
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The quiet way the small boy waited by the sleeping snail...<br />
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The warmth of the sun on the fairy girl's face as she tucked the rose's letter into its green star...</div>
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the reverence of the children for dear Robin...<br />
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Robin's humbleness...<br />
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And the giggling celebration of all the fairy folk as they tumbled and danced their way into a haphazard procession while the Robin sang above with love for them all.<br />
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If you would like to read the story MIDSUMMER'S FIRST SONG and find all sorts of other bird orientated wonders, please go to Summers etsy page:</div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/617525287/perched-a-bird-zine-issue-5-junejuly">https://www.etsy.com/listing/617525287/perched-a-bird-zine-issue-5-junejuly</a></div>
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If you would like these little fairy children helpers to come and play and make stories and puppet-shows with your children please contact me:</div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/themagicfairylady">https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/themagicfairylady</a></div>
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The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-86094999141673212462017-11-29T22:45:00.000+00:002017-11-30T23:08:22.731+00:00Advent Blessings for the Elemental Beings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The first week of Advent, blessings for the Gnomes, children of Earth</span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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{page:Section1;} </style><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Deep deep, deep
beneath </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Winter’s frost firm
blanket of sleep </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Magical children,
dwellers of our ground</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Hold love to be
awakened and re-found</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The Gnomes tenderly
care</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">For Earth’s treasures
resting there,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Each child polishes
stones to glow,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">With murmurings of
ancient dreams they know,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And from pointing hats
they draw, soft slumbering stories </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Soon to urge, small
seedlings into Spring’s flowering glories</span></span></div>
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</style><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnMiNftOEDqlyWF0ermjx1LvOW2qSih-GlMak_bHNqHo0NILQJrr44njpolu23sWGJBlGLb4448nXA_tarTSg4TuRmj6UXYjtZ601OSp7miDdoLX4KmzrsElJgvHOI9j1iC-pCls-0u8/s1600/IMG_1836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1081" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnMiNftOEDqlyWF0ermjx1LvOW2qSih-GlMak_bHNqHo0NILQJrr44njpolu23sWGJBlGLb4448nXA_tarTSg4TuRmj6UXYjtZ601OSp7miDdoLX4KmzrsElJgvHOI9j1iC-pCls-0u8/s640/IMG_1836.jpg" width="432" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Dear Gnomes </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We are holding love
with you</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In gratitude</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This Adventide</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">------------------------------------------- </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<h4>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> The second week of Advent, blessings for the Undines, children of Water</span></span></h4>
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-</style><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Clear clear, clear
within</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Still moon pool
reflections, where wonders begin,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Magical children
swimmers of seas and stream,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Form love into
patterns, spiraling powers to be seen.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The Undines gently
shape,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Small Nooks of
raindrops and glaciers great.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">With the tip of his
wand a young boy carves</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Trees into sea-sand
and puddles-glass stars,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And though Winter’s
rivers surge fierce and rushing,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Soon with soft
burbling, Spring’s babes they’ll be hushing. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldiQEIZJnoVD_IvUZf55Iu7_s9MFritpZO5vasIlYL8aL21WakDZiAkcytD8cu2iu_k28nvXjdn4ahuSOUcWm9h_Dp1uHpwjSEhzEizGbgQh4A-xDdwu-NW_8Fkp2XfgQPCTEKNDadkQ/s1600/IMG_1841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="983" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldiQEIZJnoVD_IvUZf55Iu7_s9MFritpZO5vasIlYL8aL21WakDZiAkcytD8cu2iu_k28nvXjdn4ahuSOUcWm9h_Dp1uHpwjSEhzEizGbgQh4A-xDdwu-NW_8Fkp2XfgQPCTEKNDadkQ/s640/IMG_1841.jpg" width="392" /></a> </span></span><style><!--
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Dear Undines</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We are forming love
with you</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In gratitude </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This Adventide</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">--------------------------------------</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<h4 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The third week of Advent, blessings for the Sylphs, children of Air</span></span></h4>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmrHsByhC2EJRDZ8g3oGtBj_V7dIt8AASZEu1krJGpTNQvlH2e-EAffTwFIyYCr9l1eWJmRIe53bWchMU0lo4FcP9BtSdpkRbg3G1ZoE0aRPqV6FmixLc1okrBARQAnxlg75rKOps0uwI/s1600/IMG_1780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1304" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmrHsByhC2EJRDZ8g3oGtBj_V7dIt8AASZEu1krJGpTNQvlH2e-EAffTwFIyYCr9l1eWJmRIe53bWchMU0lo4FcP9BtSdpkRbg3G1ZoE0aRPqV6FmixLc1okrBARQAnxlg75rKOps0uwI/s640/IMG_1780.jpg" width="520" /></a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">High high, high above,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Tree tops listen
for the song of the turtle dove,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Magical children,
beings of fair air,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Breathe love to sustain
life here, there, and everywhere.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The Sylphs joyfully
twirl and gustily blow</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Golden leaf
flutterings and flurries of first snow,</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And while caught in
the woosh of windy wild dancing </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The air they’re
preparing for dandelion wishing. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EYnSZ7NhdWs2sRb788owamgEXSqdA5AMjFpo5xG8ox-ruek-uGJUoKbZjs_Mgg5u3zsX4iRPplicklLd6ruq7kt3sc7Iy2xpYszvUuzt2zh4mvyesQMMMpKyS00Do-QkZyjFIbTgHc8/s1600/IMG_1777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EYnSZ7NhdWs2sRb788owamgEXSqdA5AMjFpo5xG8ox-ruek-uGJUoKbZjs_Mgg5u3zsX4iRPplicklLd6ruq7kt3sc7Iy2xpYszvUuzt2zh4mvyesQMMMpKyS00Do-QkZyjFIbTgHc8/s640/IMG_1777.jpg" width="426" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpirgaYPlYA43OvZWfE_h2wPZLOSZMRnVt-dwUzHh2tSAB35AyLNmnaxgD572zzW6rYX86JEqvxlvC4LVYPkLZfezgPDgKfP2q-fsPUqstasilTt-o7d0TggdP-mGOMP7OaumMAjfwBdg/s1600/IMG_1783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1546" data-original-width="1600" height="618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpirgaYPlYA43OvZWfE_h2wPZLOSZMRnVt-dwUzHh2tSAB35AyLNmnaxgD572zzW6rYX86JEqvxlvC4LVYPkLZfezgPDgKfP2q-fsPUqstasilTt-o7d0TggdP-mGOMP7OaumMAjfwBdg/s640/IMG_1783.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMn3ft4Tz3VUF1TW4JEOL_f4DqkakSUtEWki873cuMIPIYR-sL2AvnFnjD2AOlXkXflp6Wb3xbMGXRMeDgV0aUWYGz5T5mfOnw_pfktFN-FgFI7XgZrxjKlRrYX1HXIXH-NXndKliZfQc/s1600/IMG_1762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="989" data-original-width="1600" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMn3ft4Tz3VUF1TW4JEOL_f4DqkakSUtEWki873cuMIPIYR-sL2AvnFnjD2AOlXkXflp6Wb3xbMGXRMeDgV0aUWYGz5T5mfOnw_pfktFN-FgFI7XgZrxjKlRrYX1HXIXH-NXndKliZfQc/s640/IMG_1762.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIneuwi0LTWICj-DQ63Cv4QqOpYQHu-IRrSwn-O50z7wMi-co6K7Q3RaHJnQqSYje8qgoCJZHLyFu1tLbdzG6jg4Wp2yweGGrXrhCqJkjtX35XB2vP4kKWXx0wop3loZ0zzuMQl66SB4/s1600/IMG_1537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1141" data-original-width="1600" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIneuwi0LTWICj-DQ63Cv4QqOpYQHu-IRrSwn-O50z7wMi-co6K7Q3RaHJnQqSYje8qgoCJZHLyFu1tLbdzG6jg4Wp2yweGGrXrhCqJkjtX35XB2vP4kKWXx0wop3loZ0zzuMQl66SB4/s640/IMG_1537.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> Dear Sylphs</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We are breathing love
with you</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In gratitude</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This Adventide </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "cambria"; font-size: large;">-----------------------------------</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h4 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The fourth week of Advent, blessings for the Salamanders, children of Fire</span></span></h4>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiinT6aKFkSRx3y0xq20F4Fqu_IAJAR83X1n4X4BgcB0DXNCQ_VQXyImOrcsGlB9OD1SeV9pnnwz7CH_JwiLvh594If25r1O2H9vPmg1I16bTRk9X6oVfrUDB-jc_jYgjsZBVxBTV_W-rY/s1600/IMG_1807.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1315" data-original-width="1600" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiinT6aKFkSRx3y0xq20F4Fqu_IAJAR83X1n4X4BgcB0DXNCQ_VQXyImOrcsGlB9OD1SeV9pnnwz7CH_JwiLvh594If25r1O2H9vPmg1I16bTRk9X6oVfrUDB-jc_jYgjsZBVxBTV_W-rY/s640/IMG_1807.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Free free, free beyond</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Flickers of starlight
in dreams are thronged </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Magical children
creators of fire</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Nourish love in
harmony with Sun’s heavenly choir.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The Salamanders guide
warmth and light</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">To comfort the world
on cold winter nights</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And the flames <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">of </span>our hearths serve to remind</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Our hearts to share love with all living kind </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dear Salamanders </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We are <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">n</span>ourishing love with you</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In gratitude</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This Adventide</span></span><br />
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The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-54446028513438476592017-09-02T22:06:00.000+01:002017-09-02T22:06:34.114+01:00Mamma Blackberry's first Autumn walk with her children<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtDxJrho0OkaOu2_iQ2pyHxzLYtFXIEIP6q2amL_j9sy0-H1wqRx5VS9-z9bP5ldhrX6f931QgG9M4xXeYfooyX37Hy6vaT9OI7cVKBq3t5JMmJcVru-8rvHR_Z4sp2gKg9P5VAyS-dps/s1600/IMG_1272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1038" data-original-width="1600" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtDxJrho0OkaOu2_iQ2pyHxzLYtFXIEIP6q2amL_j9sy0-H1wqRx5VS9-z9bP5ldhrX6f931QgG9M4xXeYfooyX37Hy6vaT9OI7cVKBq3t5JMmJcVru-8rvHR_Z4sp2gKg9P5VAyS-dps/s640/IMG_1272.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Stepping neatly from between the brambles down the little hidden pathway
from fairyland, comes Mamma Blackberry and her three dear children. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">They are
here to welcome Autumn time as they take a little stroll humming harvest songs
on a crisp bright morning. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The baby sits up against a pillow in her beautiful
pram, while the little girl carries her new satchel with pride, walking along with her mother </span>
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--></style><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">and then forgetting
all about her secret plan of being all-grown-up and running up and down the bramble
hedge instead, balancing and playing chase with her brother. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Soon Mamma Blackberry pauses and lifts her baby for kisses, </span>
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colours. Perhaps she tells them a little story, and shares some
praise-full words about each of them, causing their eyes to shine brighter and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>letting them love each other even a
little bit more, and notice anew all the tiny treasures of the earth.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Then the children
play, making a den amongst the biggest bramble leaves.</span></div>
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And while the baby gets ready for her nap....<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> The older children day dream a little into the warming
midday air wondering what this new season will bring. </span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-42252881012794938942017-07-18T15:27:00.000+01:002022-08-04T22:54:36.788+01:00The Apprentice Puppeteer <div style="text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-US">There is an ancient winding trail that
gleams o’re fairyland. It is not laid in stone or tar or even from long trodden
earth and leaves. This way is made of wisps of mist, layered think and thin
enough to forget journey’s toil and drift within. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">For almost all of each hour and day and for
nearly the full turning of the year, a cart and unicorn travel this wayward
road. Sometimes a faint or louder hoof fall can be heart and sometimes it may
simply be imagined that the travelers glide. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">It would be foolish to hope to see them as
you went about your busy day ordinarily, but if you gaze for long moments through
the shimmer around the sun-kissed petals of a rose, or breath the morning dew
blessed air with your eyes half closed….then, who knows. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">Children of fairykin or human kind, and
older folk who know how to stretch still seconds, are often lucky enough to see
the pathway in the distance. And to remember that, there, to the rhythm of
clippety clop, and turning wheels, is where wishes dance and tangle with story and
what might be. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">Perched high upon the cart’s hollowed bark
seat, from which wild sweet strawberries tumble and climb, and looking out over
and past the horizon where the unicorn’s horn pricks new stars into the sky,
rests the Apprentice Puppeteer. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">This ageless being is not apprentice by the
usual human understanding of the word, but apprentice in all humility to the
stories of worlds, never presuming to know what will unfold. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">Once in a while, at times that are not most
times, or when a story needs to be told, or when a being needs to be held and
rocked by marvel, the cart pulls into a clearing, into a pause, or a bubble of
glistening air. And all around little announcements and invitations can
suddenly be found. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">And whispers fill the air…. The Puppeteer is here, the theater cart has come, stories of tenderness and glory will be
shown and told, gather gather young and old! </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">---------- </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Once upon a time the puppeteer wove a story
for the little pussycat blue who had no home in a busy dark town and who weary and
hungry one long night had slipped and dipped his paw hopefully into milky mist,
and there found the answering longing of a flowering fairy girl in need a galavanting
furry friend. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">--------- </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Once upon a time the puppeteer lent her
hand to the wind who was unknotting a mother’s wash basket of worries, teasing
each care free and tossing it up to float away in the arms of the dancing
trees. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">This story when it was told, began at dawn with the twitter of early rising birds and babes... </span><br />
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....and continued all day,</div>
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moving through the magic cart's theater windows as evening came and settled into night.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vxwhBF8EgVomdaHL8PU00b0OQRhnXie9QumDHsGdJ3rReksm92GPd_NjM6H2eNxVUOX1Jv_F2SlTzuBePcHO3xa4hL58yH0EChK5NrIorcpYVZxHDzYTHE94FrXtyKRU7gTzXB8ilIs/s1600/IMG_1087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1293" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vxwhBF8EgVomdaHL8PU00b0OQRhnXie9QumDHsGdJ3rReksm92GPd_NjM6H2eNxVUOX1Jv_F2SlTzuBePcHO3xa4hL58yH0EChK5NrIorcpYVZxHDzYTHE94FrXtyKRU7gTzXB8ilIs/s640/IMG_1087.jpg" width="516" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep8JIVL6iPWHYiKK5iYqU7ms8K9fnOLk6ZCgN6n5Z0rs_uTXRfvLqJsiMrttIYruDESC24usufe_l9ppt0KHfhPkiTtV72gBtpLPKu5rY4IUkR9uayNwLMAx0li-FwdoOzjGHXREPbpc/s1600/IMG_1123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep8JIVL6iPWHYiKK5iYqU7ms8K9fnOLk6ZCgN6n5Z0rs_uTXRfvLqJsiMrttIYruDESC24usufe_l9ppt0KHfhPkiTtV72gBtpLPKu5rY4IUkR9uayNwLMAx0li-FwdoOzjGHXREPbpc/s640/IMG_1123.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">And then that story went to sleep with the Apprentice Puppeteer and hummed and danced with the other stories that were sighing themselves into her dreams.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtDezfJandSDNpnQ5gidE2jXBQ39Y3_F5wx3HvDNsv15YpfUktMmQmBdYHgvo5gmOsfna4cVoR94lzm-ACcdb2zZbctWEKUtchBLAm-Y6NCOLyTuCRLNkB6ZdxuD0cxtMJKLOLMjimK4/s1600/IMG_1112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1330" data-original-width="1600" height="532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtDezfJandSDNpnQ5gidE2jXBQ39Y3_F5wx3HvDNsv15YpfUktMmQmBdYHgvo5gmOsfna4cVoR94lzm-ACcdb2zZbctWEKUtchBLAm-Y6NCOLyTuCRLNkB6ZdxuD0cxtMJKLOLMjimK4/s640/IMG_1112.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQGo4d1H9doH3KcmzfTOkn7_g4epSLVWGBrvUaLhY27FLbbdNl8Pr4p0zHz0yCy6ZCV5eHJtS4Ivo8v8j1eXVvmpnXZwywl2MyibZe9mJololP__zUZ7e_jw5Jz1aLHKlYxm3JC9Wor_U/s1600/IMG_1097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQGo4d1H9doH3KcmzfTOkn7_g4epSLVWGBrvUaLhY27FLbbdNl8Pr4p0zHz0yCy6ZCV5eHJtS4Ivo8v8j1eXVvmpnXZwywl2MyibZe9mJololP__zUZ7e_jw5Jz1aLHKlYxm3JC9Wor_U/s640/IMG_1097.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br />--------- </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Often it is the children who bring stories that want to be told </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjR7fAVPoweno47KO7GVfMxBn_kQHJwjQ33pNBtPEk3stmdfB___1TutFWzwOHwWUP597-mt4PBbFbK5w_wKgTraJs1guCS6xI6Sshj_xMdREwA4YGqcL9aoB_X1gk9pBlSWmn2gr7qM/s1600/IMG_1065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1173" data-original-width="1600" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjR7fAVPoweno47KO7GVfMxBn_kQHJwjQ33pNBtPEk3stmdfB___1TutFWzwOHwWUP597-mt4PBbFbK5w_wKgTraJs1guCS6xI6Sshj_xMdREwA4YGqcL9aoB_X1gk9pBlSWmn2gr7qM/s640/IMG_1065.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
and they delight in sharing the telling of these stories<br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuTtQLmsxYfzpFq8KA-_hzc7JJ46AuR18NcJllziybqydAiwaBRuaEXspZ9FHooouCqdjco06e6-ZyhEpfWfiGHDfnx6P8GHCF_WnWQ2tjYytYqL4I8OJkH7U_tojTH4F0XJBwwkPnSo/s1600/IMG_1067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1104" data-original-width="1600" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuTtQLmsxYfzpFq8KA-_hzc7JJ46AuR18NcJllziybqydAiwaBRuaEXspZ9FHooouCqdjco06e6-ZyhEpfWfiGHDfnx6P8GHCF_WnWQ2tjYytYqL4I8OJkH7U_tojTH4F0XJBwwkPnSo/s640/IMG_1067.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">--------- </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">And always the puppet show is brought to a
close with the story or the young girl, who was born in fairyland, but gave her
wings to an old lady who needed them where she was going, and received in
thanks from the stars, the possibility to hear and tell stories, and
guardianship of the gleaming pathway, </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfz33CWluegZtTgZG4XP0mbIpQ-lvDAW77FVijgDvNGjxc5x9GFzKY83l9BtQPo-5VWgcxx4F2mk9GeEJwYBXAFhfdmOBrsc-zFQKb1rEzVFLYsMcjOXwVuJclkjjyNk9xe0IyZmb6qRc/s1600/IMG_1053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1305" data-original-width="1600" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfz33CWluegZtTgZG4XP0mbIpQ-lvDAW77FVijgDvNGjxc5x9GFzKY83l9BtQPo-5VWgcxx4F2mk9GeEJwYBXAFhfdmOBrsc-zFQKb1rEzVFLYsMcjOXwVuJclkjjyNk9xe0IyZmb6qRc/s640/IMG_1053.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWEdlm_-xHvp3ix-xWk_rWL4rHXmZk7td4c8s5AgpJjPmgZNVDRdN_dFe-oCww99aFKSSnj4MIP3WC0KN-dFh9_x3GQrEJjaqi2VgJGQwPVsrnjdjfq1-wb4QoeoQaqplMMHuXBC2j8g/s1600/IMG_1072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWEdlm_-xHvp3ix-xWk_rWL4rHXmZk7td4c8s5AgpJjPmgZNVDRdN_dFe-oCww99aFKSSnj4MIP3WC0KN-dFh9_x3GQrEJjaqi2VgJGQwPVsrnjdjfq1-wb4QoeoQaqplMMHuXBC2j8g/s640/IMG_1072.jpg" width="514" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The story tells of the unicorn who heard
her loneliness one day, when she felt sad that she could no longer fly, and helped
her and kept her company...</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkPjoJQ8BXeTqJ0H2myQUcEr3hanKKOYflOH3ozfFS_FpyAwjMnMuPSCp6tRtU3H5lh7lct2xpppJDPJKM0aGbxZsuBNqog2ANH9TrtryxbKxOo77SjZeOr80D6u302D0d4o4jKriV5c/s1600/IMG_1055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkPjoJQ8BXeTqJ0H2myQUcEr3hanKKOYflOH3ozfFS_FpyAwjMnMuPSCp6tRtU3H5lh7lct2xpppJDPJKM0aGbxZsuBNqog2ANH9TrtryxbKxOo77SjZeOr80D6u302D0d4o4jKriV5c/s640/IMG_1055.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQCBsIEb8Rp4bbN_AeR21d1qurRkALLMRgFx0fcvCgE1zzxhHVFJchhsaLuGq7kYV91BiQ8Jc5ae_xie9GDUMXgLsfN7qEsNOFk3TtG0HMhugzfNyT-ar8wtHJNzI2FvUG0MsrSbdK44/s1600/IMG_1068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQCBsIEb8Rp4bbN_AeR21d1qurRkALLMRgFx0fcvCgE1zzxhHVFJchhsaLuGq7kYV91BiQ8Jc5ae_xie9GDUMXgLsfN7qEsNOFk3TtG0HMhugzfNyT-ar8wtHJNzI2FvUG0MsrSbdK44/s640/IMG_1068.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US"> and of this story tells of the heart that grew on her back, just gently where her wings had once been. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9g2c98jtJFMLmyF-mHD9Bnl0V6MFpNyY9ifkkAzO4pqAv9WCXFTOJ583uTjQu0i_OeOEuZshqpoqt0LiXy3-_R_oeVN78V1SJv6JArQ5U3Lp0b2ZiMNsRWLkKGBzgWqmIL-ibxjF6lkQ/s1600/IMG_1149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1089" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9g2c98jtJFMLmyF-mHD9Bnl0V6MFpNyY9ifkkAzO4pqAv9WCXFTOJ583uTjQu0i_OeOEuZshqpoqt0LiXy3-_R_oeVN78V1SJv6JArQ5U3Lp0b2ZiMNsRWLkKGBzgWqmIL-ibxjF6lkQ/s640/IMG_1149.jpg" width="434" /></a></span></div>
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The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-7656638232750176552017-05-03T22:25:00.003+01:002017-05-03T22:25:58.772+01:00Maiden of the May<br /><div style="text-align: center;">
This Maiden of the Maytime was inspired by the joyful Mayfair that happens close to where I live. There I watched my daughters make flower crowns and join in the Maypole dancing, and also pick little gifts from the skirts of the pocket lady. This Fairy Queen of May offers her skirt pockets to nestle fairyland's young ones as they blossom into their dance of rainbows. </div>
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I have gathered a few poems to weave amongst the pictures, and as inspiration and resource for Maytime celebrations.</div>
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In May I go a-walking to hear the linnet sing,</div>
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The blackbird and the throstle, a-praising everything,</div>
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It cheers the heart to hear them, to see the leaves unfold,</div>
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And the meadows scattered over with buttercups of gold.</div>
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- a song my mother sang to me and I to my children</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc7a_jZl-bkwE1do03kkWEGvyUkPmNOXe6fWCwy8LJRwzRCpcyAegdmIapaZjLR2ei94uw95S3c61uR-7OwG-L1yFjbBQd6GsHlOJPrIt4VcZMPaqj5f8PKaN34eRGNx4ERvS1e6KtgY8/s1600/IMG_0710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc7a_jZl-bkwE1do03kkWEGvyUkPmNOXe6fWCwy8LJRwzRCpcyAegdmIapaZjLR2ei94uw95S3c61uR-7OwG-L1yFjbBQd6GsHlOJPrIt4VcZMPaqj5f8PKaN34eRGNx4ERvS1e6KtgY8/s640/IMG_0710.jpg" width="524" /></a></div>
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The fair maid who, the first of May </div>
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Goes to the fields at break of day</div>
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And washes in dew from the hawthorn tree</div>
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Will ever after handsome be.</div>
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- Mother Goose Nursery Rhyme</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtwRTRVK7dDcGmYtQIgeWCgwhqnwPDQqZQRAr6pPin9TMTmW3jPmpLRAvAWJhSBrLcavuqmXntZ8gkB-k3tRyGMKnnC4R0CQlFxqLDaw8ZKEhVaxv0pRNOQnzAu2d2CvlVFljT-vGxf0/s1600/IMG_0711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtwRTRVK7dDcGmYtQIgeWCgwhqnwPDQqZQRAr6pPin9TMTmW3jPmpLRAvAWJhSBrLcavuqmXntZ8gkB-k3tRyGMKnnC4R0CQlFxqLDaw8ZKEhVaxv0pRNOQnzAu2d2CvlVFljT-vGxf0/s640/IMG_0711.jpg" width="454" /></a></div>
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"What is now the foliage moving? </div>
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Air is still, and hush'd the breeze,</div>
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Sultriness, this fullness loving, </div>
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Through the thicket, from the trees.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now the eye at once gleams brightly, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
See! the infant band with mirth</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Moves and dances nimbly, lightly,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
As the morning gave it birth, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Flutt'ring two and two o'er earth."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
- Wolfgang Goethe, May 815</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasxrM3jaCHgdpzMds3gLaKtJcXGH6yy5JnT5ExieI2B26r9EETrqHQPlj2ROkjAU4x1I_LAT9TtRDNTmeTxdMppztIZ_tuQZZuzxSK1nMAqHPydOWUTiTzovMoQktSTBcHE2LHMc4M_4/s1600/IMG_0712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasxrM3jaCHgdpzMds3gLaKtJcXGH6yy5JnT5ExieI2B26r9EETrqHQPlj2ROkjAU4x1I_LAT9TtRDNTmeTxdMppztIZ_tuQZZuzxSK1nMAqHPydOWUTiTzovMoQktSTBcHE2LHMc4M_4/s640/IMG_0712.jpg" width="586" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But I must gather knots of flowers,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And buds and garlands gay,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm to be Queen o' the May.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
- Alfred Lord Tennyson, from The May Queen, </div>
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</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qK9TB4MQW1T1Ao58hEPIcnKgQ__GS3y0rzKcCZ2jLamchLz6FBGQHjCppSElMy6T5W9aSUSnTIS8sYvKNqiEOXuPRo6cwARtSciC6b2pf50QRCMGES6YY3Fx2e-GhXTQkxQWi0FQWo0/s1600/IMG_0713.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qK9TB4MQW1T1Ao58hEPIcnKgQ__GS3y0rzKcCZ2jLamchLz6FBGQHjCppSElMy6T5W9aSUSnTIS8sYvKNqiEOXuPRo6cwARtSciC6b2pf50QRCMGES6YY3Fx2e-GhXTQkxQWi0FQWo0/s640/IMG_0713.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Oh! that we two were Maying </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Down the stream of the soft spring breeze;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Like children with violets playing,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the shade of the whispering trees.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
- Charles Kingsley</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Jlvdzh1P3m4rtFwZ35MsZktVofNWyQgMBu-7-MHUdNSsjZcZ7xiyZ4oawPDIX52mhGApsUiXabarezIWECYkni4Yq54n82AU2TyhjGgTxh0l1MUT3HDD___k6FibG7RJWKk9tD1TomQ/s1600/IMG_0721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Jlvdzh1P3m4rtFwZ35MsZktVofNWyQgMBu-7-MHUdNSsjZcZ7xiyZ4oawPDIX52mhGApsUiXabarezIWECYkni4Yq54n82AU2TyhjGgTxh0l1MUT3HDD___k6FibG7RJWKk9tD1TomQ/s640/IMG_0721.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And mid-May's eldest child,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
- John Keats</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY3TG0VywKYhhaWj7j8ebR83GEk1EeDx_hI_pcRnMRSJYmqsWd6etjGA6OjIAe2ddRfULwTXhvMTDTXiuH_lOA-3nOU6GalN669UY8eTxC-VvXMlzwqeGBB2NimpctaBTw6yd1EEH9-rw/s1600/IMG_0717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY3TG0VywKYhhaWj7j8ebR83GEk1EeDx_hI_pcRnMRSJYmqsWd6etjGA6OjIAe2ddRfULwTXhvMTDTXiuH_lOA-3nOU6GalN669UY8eTxC-VvXMlzwqeGBB2NimpctaBTw6yd1EEH9-rw/s640/IMG_0717.jpg" width="458" /></a></div>
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"Winter is
many months of the year<br />
But now at last Maytime is here;<br />
And birds sing from a leafy screen<br />
In the trees and hedgerow freshly green;<br />
And the wood-anemone is out in the shade,<br />
With its blushing petals which too soon fade;<br />
Once more the bracken is unfurling there,<br />
And bluebells gently perfume the damp air."<br />
- Veronica Ann Twells, Maytime</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
MAY! queen of blossoms, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And fulfilling flowers, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
With what pretty music </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Shall we charm the hours? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wilt thou have pipe and reed, 5 </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Blown in the open mead? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Or to the lute give heed </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the green bowers? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thou hast no need of us, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Or pipe or wire; 10 </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thou hast the golden bee </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ripen'd with fire; </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And many thousand more </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Songsters, that thee adore, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Filling earth's grassy floor 15 </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
With new desire. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thou hast thy mighty herds, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tame and free-livers; </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Doubt not, thy music too </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the deep rivers; 20 </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And the whole plumy flight </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Warbling the day and night— </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Up at the gates of light, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
See, the lark quivers!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
- Edward Thurlow, May</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZ1RM_GcAuppZSQzY3LnxCb15QiiVCnEh8ybCUj_TUKjrabfNO97TVQReJLsprgWRt8XilK6m_xMXJVIL7pQe6Ddhgebi_qH0p3iipRZSAhgaklG5eqZSB24zY49bp7mAmxQBGVXjNcs/s1600/IMG_0716.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZ1RM_GcAuppZSQzY3LnxCb15QiiVCnEh8ybCUj_TUKjrabfNO97TVQReJLsprgWRt8XilK6m_xMXJVIL7pQe6Ddhgebi_qH0p3iipRZSAhgaklG5eqZSB24zY49bp7mAmxQBGVXjNcs/s640/IMG_0716.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
- Here’s a branch of snowy may,</div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A branch the fairies gave me.</div>
<span lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: center;">
Who would like to dance today</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
With the branch the fairies gave me?</div>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dance away, dance away.</div>
<span lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: center;">
Holding high the branch of may.</div>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dance away, dance away.</div>
<span lang="EN-US"><div style="text-align: center;">
Holding high the branch of may</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
-from Waldorf school Maypole celebrations</div>
</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLcOkH6K_JaS_YrEM0ro4Bp91HIFwVZYgGm6XfW4NcZ5t8Ozd4La5_cQu6hGmSenwHhuXox6mdvidhQMo0CUHJYrz9R7KjFPabmuqlUKzWrHuyV_zVDiIDkMlMu65z7vG9XK6wTsEDHE/s1600/IMG_0731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLcOkH6K_JaS_YrEM0ro4Bp91HIFwVZYgGm6XfW4NcZ5t8Ozd4La5_cQu6hGmSenwHhuXox6mdvidhQMo0CUHJYrz9R7KjFPabmuqlUKzWrHuyV_zVDiIDkMlMu65z7vG9XK6wTsEDHE/s640/IMG_0731.JPG" width="640" /></a>Red, yellow, green and blue</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dancing ribbons weave with you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Round the maypole, dance and skip</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Under, over, lift and dip.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Flowers, garlands, May Day clothes</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Coloured ribbons, dainty bows.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yellow, red, blue and green</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The brightest maypole you have seen!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
- Brenda Williams Colourful Maypole</div>
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<!--EndFragment--><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Tiptoe around the fairy ring</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Posies and bluebells, scattering</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Songs of the wee folk we will sing</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Laughter and dancing, what we bring.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Cross tightrope web with arms flung wide</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Mice and butterflies, seek and hide</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Windflowers standing tall with pride</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Buttercups nestled by their side.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Whispering trees play flute in breeze</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Courtly toads bow from bended knees</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Dragonflies waltz with practiced ease</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Through open doors that need not keys. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">All the kinfolk gather now</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">To share in evergreen’s cacao</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">And join in solstice chanting sough</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">To sip sweet nectar, cupped in bough</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Voices raised in tender descant </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">The tallest stag to smallest ant</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">To praise for blessing’s dear regrant</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">For ev’ry being, life and plant</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Daffodil chariots parade</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">With rainbow maypoles in the glade</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Fairy children in clear ponds wade</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">Entranced with kingdom, fairy-made</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">- J.C. Edwards, Fairy Children</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-88767458844949915642015-11-29T13:43:00.000+00:002015-11-29T13:43:22.648+00:00A snow princess journeys through lands of wonder, towards the heart of winter <div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There is a way of being, a dreamy space, of not quite here or there, where a leaf through the window playing in the wind, or the dance of sunlight on lace can hold you floating suspended in time.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
It is a space that often surrounds us when energy for other busier pursuits is lacking, and in convalescence. It is where I found myself when she started coming, hinting at her own existence through the beauty that I was seeing in a slightly more mesmerised way - in that way that children see otherworldly beings when they are not fully present themselves, and that we sometimes sense when holding them through illness or other self-altering situations.<br />
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Perhaps she needed that space, the extended time of possibility to bring me the keys to her wonderland, and to have me believe, for it was to be the unfolding of an journey of time and endeavour, and my heart needed to to be in it.<br />
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Had she not permeated my heart, I may never have followed her into this unknown unplanned place, and yet still there were many times when I nearly gave up, for fear of not managing to bring that which was as ethereal as melting snowflakes into cloth, and from the economic unreasonableness of hours slipping softly endlessly away....</div>
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And yet this journey was of beautiful discovery, and is in its sharing here and along the way, an offering of small and tender peace. </div>
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As a child, the time of Advent was always one of the very magical festivals for me. We would go for a walk and gather moss and fallen treasure from the forest floor, and then create our Advent garden in the living room. On the first Sunday of Advent there would be, there behind the garden, an advent calendar made by my mother. Each door hid a painted picture, a transparency or was itself an opening cave made from layers of back-lit tissue paper with a little gnome or such dwelling inside. This was a time in which wonder layered upon wonder around that space. </div>
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It was this sense of opening into awe that the snow princess rekindled in me as I began to create her wintry land, and it was also the feeling of reverence for the elements of earth, water, wind and fire, which my mother in her wisdom had woven into our advent experience.<br />
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As a child, the first week of advent honoured the beings of the earth, and the garden and the doorways to open held gnomes and crystals, wee felted woodland animals and other such treasures. In the second week, mother of pearl shells appeared overnight in amongst the moss holding water for small pools – One of the most wonder-filled memory of advent for me was of finding a real little lizard swimming in a shell pool in the garden one morning when we lived in France, it was a warm year and this little creature had come in from outside – can you imagine the joy! </div>
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The sylphs, elementals of air floated in in the third week with glass bells, and beautiful feathers, and the fire fairies brought as close to the heart of winter with their glowing candles. </div>
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It was this relationship to the element within advent-tide which was the most deeply true part of the festival for me as a child, and it was this part which I kept and grew from as a mother when creating an winter garden of reverence building towards the lights of Chanukah, for my own children, in our celebration of the Jewish festivals at home. </div>
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As I listened to the snow princess’ whispered dreamy wishes, of the world enveloped in snow, still, yet still breathing its elemental essences, it was this same reverence that stole over me. </div>
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It was only in discussion with my mother towards the completion this unfolding wonderland, that I discovered that the prominence of honouring the elements and their beings was something that she brought to the festival of herself and that it was not integral to Advent for many people, or within all Waldorf schools or even to every kindergarten teacher, which she had been before becoming a mother. </div>
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And yet this relationship to the interweaving qualities of nature was there in every inspiration, in every stitch, in every pause as I followed the snow princess’ secrets. The Unicorns came to pull the sleigh first, and I heard their hooves sometimes tapping along frost hard paths, sometimes silent in snow.<br />
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After they had done their part carrying the princess along, waiting at each day's step while she peeped into a crystal hidden beneath the ice of a frozen puddle, or discovered a treasure chest within a sparkling snowy cave; the dolphins seemed to arrive of themselves to draw her sleigh through the following watery days, stopping to discover ice skates amongst icicles and a crown behind frozen water droplets. </div>
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It was the winds of great untamed plains who brought the tiny baby for the princess to encounter, being rocked by the song of bell skirted angels, and the delight of recognition I felt in both of them as I set up the picture was one of the very touching moments of this creating. </div>
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Then the lion with his warmth came at a time when in the world at large, qualities of courage, love, strength and dignity felt especially poignant. </div>
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One of the last parts of this story-land to become was the dwelling of the princess, placed at the beginning of the journey; and that of the prince, which waits until the last week of Advent to be opened. It seemed retrospectively that this two into one button heart shaped yurt was waiting specifically for and to be the culmination and completion.<br />
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However until I got out the silk paints and the snowflakes grew onto the two parts of the roof, what this was to be and how it was to work was completely frustratingly unknown to me, it was only in trusting the surrounding atmosphere that the what and the way to bring it to be, was shown...<br />
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And then in its simplicity it formed the centre of this becoming, </div>
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both for play...</div>
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and of the this story of gratitude and love for the world of earth, water, wind and fire.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_8k60ij06Kzg0ftbtSsBLqEvJ9ZAC-wJBGHG0RarehudqBRvgg7_M_KGnKOP-2YOR7A4yHDsS8RZm8Dj3YSgzMAYu8iMJwQoEpdnHD144_GOZyKsmg_I1fY1cj_Nk93YBu6ARjv2SCc/s1600/IMG_7603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_8k60ij06Kzg0ftbtSsBLqEvJ9ZAC-wJBGHG0RarehudqBRvgg7_M_KGnKOP-2YOR7A4yHDsS8RZm8Dj3YSgzMAYu8iMJwQoEpdnHD144_GOZyKsmg_I1fY1cj_Nk93YBu6ARjv2SCc/s640/IMG_7603.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The story of the snow princess and her journey through her snowy land of wonder at Advent tide, as she opens magical doorways and peeps into frozen puddles can be seen here.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/s_vi/rhMwIgSS-aE/default.jpg?sqp=CNT96LIF&rs=AOn4CLBdNiLB3PytP6L4k99QUKRy_ZAt1w" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rhMwIgSS-aE?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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The song within the video is from my childhood and the poem was given to me by my mother from her notebook, in response to this winter's journey. </div>
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Velvet shoes by Elinor Wylie</div>
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Let us walk in the white snow</div>
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In a soundless space</div>
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With footsteps quiet and slow</div>
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At a tranquil pace</div>
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Under veils of white lace</div>
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I shall go shoed in silk</div>
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And you in wool</div>
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White as white cow's milk</div>
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More beautiful</div>
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Than the breast of a gull</div>
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We shall walk through the still town</div>
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In a windless peace</div>
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We shall step upon white down</div>
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Upon silver fleece</div>
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Upon softer than these</div>
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The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-43855793761582326222015-09-26T14:12:00.000+01:002015-09-26T14:12:16.407+01:00Of living story and warming Apple Cake <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.florisbooks.co.uk/book/Nienke-van-Hichtum/Apple+Cake/9780863152283" target="_blank">THE APPLE CAKE - BY NIENKE VAN HICHTUM </a></div>
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<a href="http://www.florisbooks.co.uk/book/Nienke-van-Hichtum/Apple+Cake/9780863152283" target="_blank">ILLUSTRATED BY MARJAN VAN ZEYL</a></div>
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A story to fall in love with...</div>
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I first came across
this story book when my children were still too young for its written length. Yet the pictures are so beautifully full of the feeling of the story that
it is completely possible to tell the happenings with a few words whilst
soaking up the old woman’s nature as she goes along on her search for apples to
make her delicious apple cake - for which there is a recipe on the
back. This cake is more like bread and requiring time to rise, and somehow even
within its baking the gradual accumulating warmth of the old woman’s being is
reflected.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_HFgdwG8FQ6TQQB2T_ntitwcDhDEUOUkrgYMj1VSiQcSpcIOAlTglMo0mFfbQ6cI3zscBBgh6Oq8QdoajFoX7RrR_Oc9TSp_1zv-W9CA1THo1Ip5lzpeWUP_vY3aFEcBNxKNZykFzErQ/s1600/IMG_2991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_HFgdwG8FQ6TQQB2T_ntitwcDhDEUOUkrgYMj1VSiQcSpcIOAlTglMo0mFfbQ6cI3zscBBgh6Oq8QdoajFoX7RrR_Oc9TSp_1zv-W9CA1THo1Ip5lzpeWUP_vY3aFEcBNxKNZykFzErQ/s640/IMG_2991.jpg" width="530" /></a></div>
</span><br />
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The singing of this song of wonder about the the dreams of apple pips whilst preparing the fruit for the cake seemed also to extend and contribute to filling the room with cherishing. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibm86Z68kc211w8EvGJbrxTTmk0UKvSufK6_rKjXguGnVkoy0JqAl4KQ4lz8Bt7rpmt64vmGcdZSj2oQAAy4H5Ay4CQCwsOwmr0Y_DJ4N2i__4QnehYcw0gFHOHgDEofTgg2WEJw7vq0w/s1600/IMG_6757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibm86Z68kc211w8EvGJbrxTTmk0UKvSufK6_rKjXguGnVkoy0JqAl4KQ4lz8Bt7rpmt64vmGcdZSj2oQAAy4H5Ay4CQCwsOwmr0Y_DJ4N2i__4QnehYcw0gFHOHgDEofTgg2WEJw7vq0w/s640/IMG_6757.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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My nice red rosy apple </div>
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Has a secret hid unseen. </div>
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You’d see if you could look inside </div>
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Five rooms so neat and clean. </div>
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In each room there are living </div>
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Two pips so black and bright. </div>
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Asleep they are a-dreaming </div>
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Of lovely warm sunlight. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSJHV-GJpc5BNNAlTLoLrf9wwYiXaoTndvzLMdQZXeL_OU0K6FYQUpHhrk0qkmU-_ERlRfTci9uikgSVlvDKHiuCqcmgL8GoxG5btELZjy3ut0t-q9AJT3pNDlK5ey9fUFYg38tcMSVE/s1600/IMG_6737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSJHV-GJpc5BNNAlTLoLrf9wwYiXaoTndvzLMdQZXeL_OU0K6FYQUpHhrk0qkmU-_ERlRfTci9uikgSVlvDKHiuCqcmgL8GoxG5btELZjy3ut0t-q9AJT3pNDlK5ey9fUFYg38tcMSVE/s640/IMG_6737.JPG" width="564" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Perhaps it was the
very process of initially telling rather than reading the story which allowed
me to be aware of holding its message within myself whilst the atmosphere
surrounded us on the story telling cushions. By the time they were old enough
to want all the words I had developed an awareness of my children's highly perceptive
natural aversion to any deliberate enforcement of moral message.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3oG1Njh-21p2t9Pf-rnTiMvWqVsyIIoLW46OltF9jsxAXf-RlCqWDx4siLAZ22Pe-eKvhhkGbc7Q-f4A9BACWeLE9FspfC96yzb4Xxtl7-452XmGDFSagpsPhVVizXc8DsFOAWRuHMow/s1600/IMG_6725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3oG1Njh-21p2t9Pf-rnTiMvWqVsyIIoLW46OltF9jsxAXf-RlCqWDx4siLAZ22Pe-eKvhhkGbc7Q-f4A9BACWeLE9FspfC96yzb4Xxtl7-452XmGDFSagpsPhVVizXc8DsFOAWRuHMow/s640/IMG_6725.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And so, though this
story holds the feeling of the importance of giving what you have to give, of
relationship with the wishes and needs of others, and of the golden rule of
return as well as many other nuances of moments of a day and life;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I ensured that I
always told it as a story of an old woman who wakes up with a real wish for an
apple cake and of all the different people she meets and exchanges gifts with
along the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyiGBQQwvCriSWdIHyMV_Kj4xgPO7f47SD2F4ZdUGEPaX4OHuzi9jnD0DIelCtlf9GZZ1SBicwr-gpuZizv8zSJ5jxifWQLOato3ptDc0OF1Z4Vlq2k3-KQ0b5S_Uh38e8jHHI2LVpfQM/s1600/IMG_6739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyiGBQQwvCriSWdIHyMV_Kj4xgPO7f47SD2F4ZdUGEPaX4OHuzi9jnD0DIelCtlf9GZZ1SBicwr-gpuZizv8zSJ5jxifWQLOato3ptDc0OF1Z4Vlq2k3-KQ0b5S_Uh38e8jHHI2LVpfQM/s640/IMG_6739.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
</o:p></span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This is one of those
stories that dwells in you, remaining and growing simply as a warm embrace..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This summer I re-read
it for myself before taking a copy to a dear family friend who’s generosity has
been there through moments of life since my childhood; her large staircase
wooden where I used to sit and draw, her little high up room of holiday sleeps,
her cooking, were all imbued with the same gentle comfort as this story book,
which she will now in her kindness give to her grandchild. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95oRct7D8CtNgwknw4WJYV4IK_gob7w6lGW2SJV5K9f49buRqEuGHFQO48wX2U-9MGYR9YXQvNJIvw0HZIHZO8PH84R5QbbhGNJuDYU9KpvmVakmCAMEPn8FLm681TRd98uU6aft3RGE/s1600/IMG_2970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95oRct7D8CtNgwknw4WJYV4IK_gob7w6lGW2SJV5K9f49buRqEuGHFQO48wX2U-9MGYR9YXQvNJIvw0HZIHZO8PH84R5QbbhGNJuDYU9KpvmVakmCAMEPn8FLm681TRd98uU6aft3RGE/s640/IMG_2970.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In re-reading this
story and reabsorbing the expressions on this old woman’s face I experienced
new tones of resonance, pertinent personally, and in my connected belonging to womankind within the struggles of relationship between people in the world and
the constant concern for sufficiency…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQ7axMEN4e1iuBYKjATkDMAbg3skctqJxpimfetc9EsI7WIodEpgeZDYE4CsAKCxbtTkOaeIZhRvbo1pQ3nyzQRvvp0P6m90TLY8HX5fYzVC3eDjKk7PmFeWBN-nsPmGK5kwxKM3Ckyo/s1600/IMG_2982.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQ7axMEN4e1iuBYKjATkDMAbg3skctqJxpimfetc9EsI7WIodEpgeZDYE4CsAKCxbtTkOaeIZhRvbo1pQ3nyzQRvvp0P6m90TLY8HX5fYzVC3eDjKk7PmFeWBN-nsPmGK5kwxKM3Ckyo/s640/IMG_2982.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In trust the world is
bountiful and plentiful as are our hearts, and interactions in kindness sustain not only that which is a necessity of survival but those small satisfying wishes that in their fulfilment render us grateful
for life</span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheYQwhaNi564e0AvkzOawfkyEhJm6rIU7tpUWUmXSuYnDCUZtvt00pLNi8gqIH4V3t4tpmwh749CibswQoSZL1JpQsWtH9r3bg233wbPZUe7LqbERFOd80zkuawFWJSWK50rtiU5-FdaM/s1600/IMG_2972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheYQwhaNi564e0AvkzOawfkyEhJm6rIU7tpUWUmXSuYnDCUZtvt00pLNi8gqIH4V3t4tpmwh749CibswQoSZL1JpQsWtH9r3bg233wbPZUe7LqbERFOd80zkuawFWJSWK50rtiU5-FdaM/s640/IMG_2972.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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And it is in this spirit that I share my telling of some parts of the story</div>
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<br /><iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/nxXtitwJIus/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nxXtitwJIus?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-85696991652853189052015-07-21T22:26:00.000+01:002015-07-21T22:26:10.195+01:00A little picture diary of precious moments with a dear wee one and her magical collecting basket<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>On the first day we met...</b></div>
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Oh how happy this dear wee one is to have a new collecting basket for her walks and adventures. It is a gift from a spidery lace maker who's web she protected the other day. </div>
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Stepping lightly she glimpses a beautiful treasure, a raindrop glistening on a baby rose leaf...such magic is not easy to gather, but perhaps through the delicate hoping of her heart it might slip into her basket?</div>
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<b>The next morning....</b></div>
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No rain has fallen since yesterday....but oh my can you see, such wonder is still here, this collecting basket must be as magical as her heart.</div>
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<b>When the sunshine came out to play with her....</b></div>
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Skipping along in the sunshine today, her toes barely stop in time when they find themselves amongst tiny purple petals.</div>
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She has to tip her face right back to see when the softness is drifting down from...</div>
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High high above in the blue sky, amongst a gentle humming she can see a little treasure beginning to float its way to earth.</div>
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Oh so tenderly she fills her gathering basket with this gift and then she plays at adding decorating patterns to her sparkly skirt</div>
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<b>On a delicious afternoon......</b><b><div style="display: inline !important;">
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Climbing climbing oh so high, she is taking care to hold on tight, while she picks the tenderest tiniest mint leaves and fills her little basket. Such special collecting she is doing today, all for the kindness of helping her friend the ice cream maker who needs these delicious leaves to make her favourite flavoured treat</div>
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<b>One moonlit night....</b></div>
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She had found a lovely place to watch the moon, and maybe she was starting to drift to sleep a little. Then through sleepy eyes she saw something sparkle, a silvery dream seemed to be floating closer perhaps a gift from the moon who was watching over her</div>
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<b>When she showed me her most precious foundling....</b></div>
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For the last couple of days she seems to have been hiding, now and again I have heard tiny running steps, but when I stopped what I was doing and tried to see, everything became suddenly very quite and still. This evening though she must have been in a hurry, because she made quite a lot of scuttle and I was able to follow the sound, right into a little red bonnet. </div>
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And there I saw... she has made her little collecting basket into a rocking cradle...</div>
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Very very gently I asked and after quite a while she let me hold, the most delicate fairy babe I've ever seen, where she came from who can tell...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This wee one is now on her way home to play.</div>
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These diary entries were first offered day by day on The Magic Fairy facebook page</div>
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The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-43049944072858345182015-06-21T17:12:00.001+01:002015-06-21T19:08:56.858+01:00The hum of bee-ing together as one<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Softly Playing in the cradle of the Sun here on earth, tiny bee beings encourage their seedling cousins to awake into birth. </div>
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Gloria knows that the seedlings will each grow on the pathway of their life's story</div>
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Whilst the Bee beings hum together, each holding the sound of the Earth's Mothering Spirit</div>
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Each breathing into the other's heart for the music they cannot create alone</div>
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As she grows, Gloria knows that time lives in moments, not in minutes or in clocks...</div>
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That just as each baby seedling is dreaming and being dreamed by the flower they will be, </div>
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So she is as young and free as now and as old and wise and the Grandmother Story teller who she may become....</div>
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All at Once. </div>
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And as Grandmother raises the flowering cradle to receive Midsummer Sun's rays into love</div>
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Gloria feels Earth's Motherly rejoicing rise into the fluttering heart of the babe who awaits in Mamma's Belly, </div>
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in the secrets of her sister's seed sowing pocket</div>
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And in the pattern of her the dance as she joins hands with the kindness of being</div>
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dancing </div>
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dancing </div>
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spiralling together</div>
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until they are quite dizzy with the joy of life</div>
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<br />The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-80507751952659054442015-02-21T21:45:00.002+00:002020-07-15T16:28:41.343+01:00The Story Teller's Dwelling <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ones upon a time, and perhaps this very day, a story teller called through the window of her heart to the children playing in the hills, </div>
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And they came, merrily, merrily</div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Decorating the
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">She listens to the
feeling of raindrops on their tender faces,</span></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">She listens to their
play of follow-my-leader with the sun’s shimmering rays, </span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">She listens to the
astonished baby’s rainbow song,</span></div>
</div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">She listens to rhythm
of the new dance steps patterned out by tiny toes skipping with the windy
grasses, </span></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOtIw2gUxNj1OD3NYOZRMR6_aVqVKS_xFBhPyt_kCVYZVQdr4dYACMrp8uls9x0yEcOa-mpixr6J7bDkj1qoa0i55EprK9RNyjNOnQOmgiLqM8emBrpjUVeKZQbRBXM6SX53MU4P_XPY/s1600/IMG_5132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOtIw2gUxNj1OD3NYOZRMR6_aVqVKS_xFBhPyt_kCVYZVQdr4dYACMrp8uls9x0yEcOa-mpixr6J7bDkj1qoa0i55EprK9RNyjNOnQOmgiLqM8emBrpjUVeKZQbRBXM6SX53MU4P_XPY/s1600/IMG_5132.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9A1sdiedH-DlTsTwy2v1gjH4qxHZFT43vJkhJ8s-gRgFMuRrzxMpl7JPaQsrCGe4tsh1grPew8DRwdhGLYlINKXUMwmkARt3OmnxccxLQbNErnqlxppcPaqmcnI4uKFgpbrR6Y7lp0g/s1600/IMG_5143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9A1sdiedH-DlTsTwy2v1gjH4qxHZFT43vJkhJ8s-gRgFMuRrzxMpl7JPaQsrCGe4tsh1grPew8DRwdhGLYlINKXUMwmkARt3OmnxccxLQbNErnqlxppcPaqmcnI4uKFgpbrR6Y7lp0g/s1600/IMG_5143.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
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mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The story teller weaves the children’s stories into the heart of her dwelling, that all that lives might hear the way to become anew in the children’s world </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
......</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And all that lives hears the love of the children’s stories</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<o:Version>12.0</o:Version>
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<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
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<style>
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table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
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mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-ansi-language:EN-US;}
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<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And love heard by water overflows splish splash,</div>
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And love grows green dancing dancing,</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
And love breaths into the wind’s song that flutters the children’s petals,</div>
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And love temps the sunrays to bend and flitter that the children might catch their light.</div>
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And here is the Story Teller's story held within her Dwelling</div>
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And here is a child's story gathered there<br />
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And here my telling of the story today, playfully with the wee ones...</div>
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The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-87260642413458098352015-02-14T15:48:00.000+00:002015-02-14T15:51:19.225+00:00Beings of Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today is celebration of love I want to express the immense feeling in my heart, my gratitude to all of you who meet the wee beings that come through my hands and recognise them and love them and hold their magic into your lives and that of your playing children. It is not always easy to entrust them into the unknown, for when I am stitching them and they are forming themselves in snippets of silks and soft colours, my finger tips feel the heartbeat of the elemental world and I love each and every one. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
But how strongly they want to become, sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes struggling to squeeze their great feisty beings in through the eye of my needle, but always there knocking on the hidden doorways of inspiration - and how heartbreaking it would be for me if they were not experienced fully in their magicalness... but they are, they are! Across sky and sea they travel into waiting hands and hearts to live ever more fully through your love - and I am in awe every time I receive your words. I am deeply honoured that the wee beings have introduced me to so many kindred human beings.</div>
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And so I am sharing with you, just a few of these words in a weaving together of love...</div>
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♡</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">A Valentines Baker<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOy2_peEEtIuF50G3PycFUyjRvWy4u5qMtxuK63zSTpS9wsfdsPmZ6KYe_YZ4onAF6ncg3LrRBJii7c1MwRMcPC-Q3CyjpmzDp5nUOfowqMJ9Kgg1EAcqLaRblOMgmq3_f1XDUTMBJLGw/s1600/IMG_0967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOy2_peEEtIuF50G3PycFUyjRvWy4u5qMtxuK63zSTpS9wsfdsPmZ6KYe_YZ4onAF6ncg3LrRBJii7c1MwRMcPC-Q3CyjpmzDp5nUOfowqMJ9Kgg1EAcqLaRblOMgmq3_f1XDUTMBJLGw/s1600/IMG_0967.jpg" height="640" style="cursor: move;" width="636" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">There is something so magical them that escapes my ability to describe accurately...they have some enchanting aura that transport you into another realm, realm of fairies, pixies...they bring you to the world where everything is possible and where magic happens..to the same world we were so familiar with when we were children and our eyes were still open to this beauty. </td></tr>
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♡</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bibi, the gnome of change</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsIzqEYn0IA4G8c6YfmfTZyVpDjKqIbloiuQlVkpMhhgkKNHP9c97chDTOxa8AsEXYxw7SPnEJsDdt54IwoluDdFTIfWCj3pBLka3WMQUAeozcI4-mYd_gPunmx13MD6HWuwUrUxz1d0/s1600/IMG_9828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsIzqEYn0IA4G8c6YfmfTZyVpDjKqIbloiuQlVkpMhhgkKNHP9c97chDTOxa8AsEXYxw7SPnEJsDdt54IwoluDdFTIfWCj3pBLka3WMQUAeozcI4-mYd_gPunmx13MD6HWuwUrUxz1d0/s1600/IMG_9828.jpg" height="640" style="cursor: move;" width="568" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><span class="null">My daughter was sitting next to me while I was stitching and we both noticed this gnome tremble when he came alive in my hands. He now lives in wonder on the other side of the world, having blessed me with an introduction to a dearest friend</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8JdNZkwVMzxjomnRwxbOcUPc9vpp9df8NNgoPIzyd0fxI7H-cJu6SIVIpDukJrUDCZ1vJDtJR1qvBFvji8Jf9FWHqBsdL3HmBqiA6QdGGGKdzw6s-BmpOlWVYq8x31PgdjxI2iHqpHD4/s1600/bibi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8JdNZkwVMzxjomnRwxbOcUPc9vpp9df8NNgoPIzyd0fxI7H-cJu6SIVIpDukJrUDCZ1vJDtJR1qvBFvji8Jf9FWHqBsdL3HmBqiA6QdGGGKdzw6s-BmpOlWVYq8x31PgdjxI2iHqpHD4/s1600/bibi.jpg" height="640" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are some magical moments from his life:<br />
<span class="null"><span class="null"> <i>My daughter</i> and I
were telling stories and settling down for the night, and it was that
time of brushing hair and seeing which one of her friends/dolls/beings
need a blanket etc...when she noticed Bibi. "Look mama, Bibi is walking"
and indeed he was. He has one foot in the air and looks like he is
going somewhere. Well the mystery is how...how did he get like that
since m</span><span class="null"><i>y daughter</i> has him in another position? So <i>my baby</i> must have
crawled in there....I have seen him before and he is much enchanted by
Bibi. </span><br /><br /> </span><span class="null"><i>My daughter</i> came into my room tonight while I
was feeding <i>her brother</i> and he was settling for the night. She held Bibi
tenderly and said "mama, Bibi has asked for new flowers for his
beard.Look", and she showed me the beautiful flowers which she had
picked and dried herself and which he now wears on his beard. She then
looked at him and held him so tenderly. I had to tell you about it. Bibi
has been down on the farm helping Lali with the horses. But I was
afraid m</span><span class="null"><i>y daughter</i> had him on his feet for too long. I didn't say anything but
felt that he wanted to sit or rest. For the past 3 days I have noticed
Bibi has been resting in bed, in the cottage next to the mushroom house.
I asked m</span><span class="null"><i>y daughter</i> why and she said he needed his rest because his leg hurt.
It is so amazing to feel how he communicates about such things.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9oCMCSOi8vC1QdIYf0hlW1Tqsg5HMjfQM_wA_QhL1h6zwrRX3HRb80aomq_eZmXmDysAdbFBcZE0BH1m2s7Izv_Z07DJ46ALtjewBqOlPBLM7a5dthrSPaMp72D5TISqo_3hbwQQCnKU/s1600/bibi+and+dragon+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9oCMCSOi8vC1QdIYf0hlW1Tqsg5HMjfQM_wA_QhL1h6zwrRX3HRb80aomq_eZmXmDysAdbFBcZE0BH1m2s7Izv_Z07DJ46ALtjewBqOlPBLM7a5dthrSPaMp72D5TISqo_3hbwQQCnKU/s1600/bibi+and+dragon+.jpg" height="640" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".1i.$mid=11423863116529=28999992dca145d6d72.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".1i.$mid=11423863116529=28999992dca145d6d72.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".1i.$mid=11423863116529=28999992dca145d6d72.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">I am sending you a pic of Bibi who managed to place moon thread around dragon--- he seems to have tamed her.</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
♡</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Story of Peepo</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHvDjE9Ns2g1_QMlRLm1JwMYdkukO-eiVO8B7uOSRidRqU5WUbN0QWMr7r32IpHc71Y2ENZLxbHEThoCW5W-wBAKJEoMuOGLRgbsC3kLeHAmz_G7mtxwuD7TdZ-QeUcgtw1z-tAQhq84/s1600/IMG_1307.jpg" height="640" width="574" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"></span></span><br />
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_54de746c65fc92f59359643">
<span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">In February 2014 I wrote this on the Magic Fairy facebook page:</span></span><br />
<span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">The other night, late, I had just sealed up a package
to post when I found myself forming a small head, cutting a bit of
green silk, folding and stitching. Then a little square of soft blue
green wool became the body and… yes, gathered at the<span class="text_exposed_show">
bottom… that’s right like a finger puppet….ok ok, the hair and then the
silk hat. But with the silk hat (a wisp of rainbow) I had started to
grumble to myself and also a little out loud ‘there’s no need for this,
why am I doing this, no one expects anyone extra in their packages, this
is silly, I should be in bed, and if I am doing this why this
complicated little hat eh?!’ With that I must have been a little brusk
with my needle, because I got a sudden ‘Hey!’ ‘this is me, I may be
small but I am here, just as much as the others, not insignificant, the
rainbow hat is not up to you! its mine!’ I don’t think I exactly heard
all those words inside, but I felt them. So I breathed and I stitched
the hat and then gently dreamily we made a pink star flower too.<br />
There in the middle of the night sitting on my floor I felt again the
great blessing of my creative dance with these beings. I was humbled,
for I had been somehow imagining that these little dear ones who
occasionally need to slip into packages, (nearly always at the last
minute) were something to do with me, and my love of little gifts. But I
was reminded and it makes much more heartfelt sense, in all their often
inconvenience - that these are the wee ones who want to go play and who
might not get out any other way. I unsealed the package and popped this
one in so that she could go and perhaps play peepo with babies in a far
off land. <br /> Now as I come to the end of this overlong fb post I
think I know why I am writing it, it is to say…. If it so happens that
you receive, alongside the wee ones that you are expecting, a small
little other one, please know that often they have worked extra hard,
with their whispering and tiny foot stamping, to get to you </span></span></span></div>
<span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">
</span></span>
<div class="pts fbPhotoPagesTagList" id="fbPhotoSnowliftPagesTagList">
</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9IWomGDYygZZgc5Y1V2BNNP9cJCmXYDtG2Ddu9jdk30MRz9ipvde2j2ySGIHkcAJ7N7nrjb9c3PPUG5wgIdEJYhiBDaYmuS7CoHnEU4HRfIHMmRoaF8iRO4yQIiHIKI17uXLYiHQ9yQE/s1600/peepo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9IWomGDYygZZgc5Y1V2BNNP9cJCmXYDtG2Ddu9jdk30MRz9ipvde2j2ySGIHkcAJ7N7nrjb9c3PPUG5wgIdEJYhiBDaYmuS7CoHnEU4HRfIHMmRoaF8iRO4yQIiHIKI17uXLYiHQ9yQE/s1600/peepo.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Somehow the lovely Mamma who I sent this wee one too didn't read the post at the time, Six months later I received this message:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">I never read that post! But you're going to get chills now, as I did when I read it. Peepo has always seemed very , very interested in my newborns up until around 8 mos. she's still loving after that but before then it seems as of she's extremely insistent that she come out to play or join us for knee bounces or nose tickles. She kisses their eyelashes after I tickle their nose with my nose. <i>My daughter</i> has recently started asking if she could handle peepo to the babies and I always said "one day you may" of course I popped little Peepo on her finger a couple times to satiate her, but Peepo and I weren't sure if m<i>y daughter</i> would be gentle to the babies with Peepo and I never wanted a sad, crying upset feeling tied to Peepo as m<i>y daughter</i> loves babies so very much that at times she can be carried away and become a "squoosher" and a squeezer. So yesterday when I got home from a full, joyful yet exhausting day with an older group of children,, I walked in and m<i>y daughter</i> had just woken up from nap all dreamily lying on the couch. She said "when <i>the baby</i> wakes up, can I play Peepo to her instead of you this time?" I said, without pause "yes, and I'll hold her on my lap while we sit on the rug" sure enough, <i> the baby</i> wakes up no more than 5 mins after we planned. I changed her and she had some water then I gave Peepo to m</span><i>y daughter</i> <span class="Apple-style-span"> and she imitated exactly how she's watched me all these months, playing with Peepo and the babies. Peepo seemed to thrive with m</span><i>y daughter</i> <span class="Apple-style-span"> helping her this time. Peepo has always seemed so spunky and insistent: for example, if I'm feeding a baby or changing them or making a snack....I'll often feel a "Oh, right now I should be playing with Peepo. Go help her down from the shelf and play!" It seems that was her way with you, too. And now I'm just in awe again....I am blessed to know you this little bit. And that you sent her to me.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
♡</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
An Excited Birthday Visitor </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlU0ycp7DeJjkb310HcsWMgJjc5aTP_fzYpOSMEN0Uy9rjAdO-BPW54t4MKWg-4550EORm6SxtuIjxxSqJRNGD87qe7IehBBhCzIqNOQN6a78tm2gBbT-T-4mtuxAhAOw3DZZCQ1Qj4PE/s1600/IMG_3466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlU0ycp7DeJjkb310HcsWMgJjc5aTP_fzYpOSMEN0Uy9rjAdO-BPW54t4MKWg-4550EORm6SxtuIjxxSqJRNGD87qe7IehBBhCzIqNOQN6a78tm2gBbT-T-4mtuxAhAOw3DZZCQ1Qj4PE/s1600/IMG_3466.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">This was my experience of the becoming of this dear one:<br />In
fairyland there must have been a great moonlit planning, for they woke
me with such deliberate flurry...a tart, a lemon tart, we made
especially for Lucinda's birthday, and there is someone waiting to come
and carry it to her, so forget all your day, the bakers will wait for
their books and the washing and writing and all will be there still
tomorrow, today is the day, now is the moment to lend us your cloth and
stitch hurry hurry...</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-LpXAM53jsZOE5uzXYGMTNQ7OWGHCbYNLAtXBLrtIRZdXoFZjdY8_IrdqpME_sgShDuRbyes2qMMaf4t71_ROIr0zBlzpQNXN58_Zpo7zmkYi3BC3nRtzkEI2Ejh_CdahVvmcru56e4/s1600/lucinda's%2Bbirthday%2Bgirl%2B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-LpXAM53jsZOE5uzXYGMTNQ7OWGHCbYNLAtXBLrtIRZdXoFZjdY8_IrdqpME_sgShDuRbyes2qMMaf4t71_ROIr0zBlzpQNXN58_Zpo7zmkYi3BC3nRtzkEI2Ejh_CdahVvmcru56e4/s1600/lucinda's%2Bbirthday%2Bgirl%2B.jpg" height="612" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">This is how much she is loved:<br />
The spreader of JOY through a silken toy, bearer of spirit for needy souls...endearing hearts with silken faces and strawberry tarts , filled with love and light as glints of moonbeams , wee feathered flight and waving fern fronds, green and bright... you are an angel to the heart & the weary soul , a mission so precious , helping many feel happy & displacing woe.... your hands an instrument of the spirit , making things beautifully whole.<br />
Dear Sylwyn, those are my words which just tumbled out, feeling the movement of from spirit about. The Wee one who has come is some part of me, in her face is a child that I see as me. It takes me again to to some poetry I have loved...finding many years ago , it still echoes in my heart...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">♡<br />
Gnomes with hugging hats<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReXt4s2QMnTuEeOkZFOwN6buM7cfauUhHSSWQ3uSzI8oFMNCLsMLTNU9Y1gNsCUSwgCC21wzgq5GvbXlQp_PLyQf4KVpdbkx57jTrp0tMy2w7UABAgpLLH1phxHboBVWvF33qYodzj7s/s1600/IMG_4008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReXt4s2QMnTuEeOkZFOwN6buM7cfauUhHSSWQ3uSzI8oFMNCLsMLTNU9Y1gNsCUSwgCC21wzgq5GvbXlQp_PLyQf4KVpdbkx57jTrp0tMy2w7UABAgpLLH1phxHboBVWvF33qYodzj7s/s1600/IMG_4008.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> They were delivered first thing of what was
shaping up to be a very stressed, cranky morning as we were heading out for
school. </span><i>My daughter</i> <span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> literally tripped over the parcel left on our doorstep. As she
picked it up, her whole body just released the tension that was threatening to
coil itself around her little frame tighter with each step. She beamed at me
with "mama, it's from Sylwyn - the magic lady" She recognised your
handwriting. Her joy simply sliced through my crankiness of a rushed and tense
morning. <br />
<br />
The two little ones arrived on the first day of advent. I try to weave a lot of
magic in the 23 days leading up to Christmas Eve, and lots of acts of kindness,
so your parcel literally ushered those things through our front door. </span><i>My daughter</i> <span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">was
so excited to open the parcel once she returned home, she would not stop
telling her teacher and her school friends about the "Magic Lady" who
speaks with faeries and gnomes and all other creatures.<br />
<br />
Initially, m</span><i>y daughter</i> <span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> created a winterland for them, so that they would not get too
homesick and too scared of the heat. They were very excited to see Rosie and
Little Sunshine - their friends from home. Now, they are with the rest of the
little beings. Not quite at the beach, but fishing and sunning themselves by a
river. Their boots come in handy for carrying the fish back to camp or for
picking berries. <br />
<br />Thank you again. </span><i>My daughter</i> <span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> is really enamoured by them, and loves that their little
hats hook like two kitty cat tails</span></div>
</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
♡</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A magical Boy</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkix0QnwtIBA8s8sHP9qplHW1EvUoES6bks_DNbq8oJQBq9qKR4PGlzclU63gFbzlikyD1o9U32RTJHpsvqMEPf9Ca3DHFRpBU2Y9tplOwPdEIOCciGeY2h3aRJdcy1zpQ2MlbBbTQViY/s1600/IMG_4881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkix0QnwtIBA8s8sHP9qplHW1EvUoES6bks_DNbq8oJQBq9qKR4PGlzclU63gFbzlikyD1o9U32RTJHpsvqMEPf9Ca3DHFRpBU2Y9tplOwPdEIOCciGeY2h3aRJdcy1zpQ2MlbBbTQViY/s1600/IMG_4881.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your work is truly inspiring! I must confess I got a little teary-eyed
when I see how you had captured my child in such a magical form! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
♡</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Lucida </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYci7Xl8WGXvL8NCbdmexlwSPOEGNPhJxnXH7mZAmKRcOjY6k4kCUOK5ckgWTCb8BbbbqY9mhwSW9mrchVz7wMePYi9TYJ_b0LPJRb-Kk-r9diBC8CZ2YuH14WPa35jHleqmuNmZaLQgM/s1600/IMG_9484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYci7Xl8WGXvL8NCbdmexlwSPOEGNPhJxnXH7mZAmKRcOjY6k4kCUOK5ckgWTCb8BbbbqY9mhwSW9mrchVz7wMePYi9TYJ_b0LPJRb-Kk-r9diBC8CZ2YuH14WPa35jHleqmuNmZaLQgM/s1600/IMG_9484.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">I was asked to call this etherial girl into being by a very special grandmother for her granddaughter, this is part of what I wrote about my experience:<br />
It has been an incredible honour to work with this little being, she has come so easily and taught me so much, a new variation on how to make their little bodies, a beautiful way to have wings on the back that can fold into a flower and open up, but most of all she has confirmed my capacity to hear through my hands that which wants and needs to come, I am delighted to now know about your granddaughter's rainbow aura as that is one of the first impressions I felt of this being, even before I started stitching.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNWiF4DKcPPcmA8c_MZuOUDgp_qC1jUJ2jrTsyee__0ux-I29AO2RGzEQ6NfMfWiD4bmPH1oV5QSiULslJjYqWP3z-O-W9LSPT6g62CEbdC0h_7JglcbaGpVH3Lgk7BJMBY_7MrbTYqk/s1600/IMG_9501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNWiF4DKcPPcmA8c_MZuOUDgp_qC1jUJ2jrTsyee__0ux-I29AO2RGzEQ6NfMfWiD4bmPH1oV5QSiULslJjYqWP3z-O-W9LSPT6g62CEbdC0h_7JglcbaGpVH3Lgk7BJMBY_7MrbTYqk/s1600/IMG_9501.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">This is the telling of how she was welcomed into the little girl's life:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">This afternoon <i>my granddaughter</i>, her mother and I enjoyed the unveiling of sweet one. Placed gently on </span><i>my granddaughter</i>, silk baby blanket, wrapped just as you sent her with flowers picked by her mother and tea we enjoyed the reading of the first part of a new story. (written by the grandmother)<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">The Magic Fairy Lady</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">In the green of England lives a dear wise and very sweet woman. Her name is Sylwyn which means good friend. And a good friend she is indeed. Sylwyn is friend to all things, her home called The House of Friend lies in a lovely nest of nature where the beings of elementals and the shy folk can come and go without worry.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">It is here in The House of Friend that she sits with her basket of silken threads and gossamer cloth singing as she stitches the small beings of light and air into being. For you see Sylwyn can see the face of fairy folk, she hears their song and knows the sound of their dancing feet.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7;">Each morning Sylwyn rises at pre-dawn, the time just before the sun peeks its golden yellow over the horizon. She slips into her woolen shoes and with cloak in hand steps onto her threshold to greet the mystery of her day. As quickly as her door opens she hears the breeze of flying feet, the flutter of fairy wings and the wind of the forest night whirl in a rush behind the unseen veil of mother forest. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">I then told </span><i>my granddaughter</i>,<span class="Apple-style-span"> and her mother the story of our meeting and how you brought this miracle into our lives. With wide eyes of awe and wonder the story of Sylwyn, this amazing woman who lives in the seeing became part of our family. I wish you could have heard all that was said...marveled by your generous heart we sat with peace and those feelings of grace and fortune one cherishes when touched by the profound. I will share with you that the unveiling was slow and gentle, each precious aspect of your creation poured over with complete wonder. The song of "oh's" and "look mama" in soft voice rang through the crystal blue sky. Sylwyn, this is a miracle that will be part of our forever. Well there is so much to make note of, the sweet precious note tucked into the heart on her beautiful coat, her sweet nose, her rainbow hair, the precious dress and snugly for her seven babies which </span><i>my granddaughter</i>,<span class="Apple-style-span"> counted and very carefully told us which baby was for which year of her life, her beautiful wings when discovered were met with the sound of innocent delight. Each aspect of her is so precious and beautiful. </span></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
♡</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Blossom, given and received in trust</div>
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<span class="null"><span lang="EN-US">She is gorgeous. She has a
little patch of flowery silk on her body under a petal (that my friend just discovered) and I love her snub nose and little plaits and best of all her
little yellow legs under all those petals. She is so so gorgeous. Thank you so
much. I am also moved by your generosity, offering a work of art that is so
full of soul and innocence to a stranger, just trusting that they will be able
to see it.. . I
imagine that there are my two future children somewhere in the spirit world,
hovering and waiting. And there on my fairy are two tiny baby buds, just
waiting above her head, just in bud... waiting to descend. It is truly the most
beautiful present anyone has ever made me and I will treasure it forever. Have
I said thank you yet? Thank you. So moving, and so perfectly what I wanted. I
have places in the woods where I feel that beings dwell, and this little fairy
feels like that, she has that energy. So now I have her in my home...</span></span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
♡</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Deeply shared wonder of the earths birth of seeds of love for life</div>
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<div class="_38 direction_ltr">
<span class="null"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="null">You are like the midwife to these wee ones and create the narrative through which the love is carried</span></div>
<span class="null">
</span></div>
<div class="_1yr">
<span class="_2oy"></span></div>
</div>
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<span class="null"></span><br />
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</div>
<span class="null">
</span></div>
</div>
</td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAUZk2UgZFwaYTkjkmsyJw05OFI6TMTJm8GVUa2z1jAURpKeRrV4aioJeSfp68-J0T58omEg_2PLVYdnpjoKWP02N5qX_7ZrpR1yyMGXB4oi8HSWw31f92zvGz4Z6FuuYQgRVtXveMbC8/s1600/IMG_4536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAUZk2UgZFwaYTkjkmsyJw05OFI6TMTJm8GVUa2z1jAURpKeRrV4aioJeSfp68-J0T58omEg_2PLVYdnpjoKWP02N5qX_7ZrpR1yyMGXB4oi8HSWw31f92zvGz4Z6FuuYQgRVtXveMbC8/s1600/IMG_4536.JPG" height="132" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="null">Each one is a promise of the new</span></td></tr>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
♡ My love to you - Sylwyn ♡</div>
The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-55580891467597305702015-02-04T12:27:00.000+00:002015-02-04T13:33:20.543+00:00Happy New Year Trees.... a blessing story for Tu b'Shvat <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Though this day may
seem to some as cold and bleak as yesterday, those who breath in time with the
trees will feel the beginning of a new year<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In nightgowns of last
year’s lacy leaves earth’s beings rise<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
between night and day</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
While some new buds are just begun and need mama to sing her awakening stories</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
And so the beings of
the trees emerge</div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And call on each other
with gifts of love<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Sharing the courage to skip along with new vigour</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
and joyfully rediscover, </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
While the forest resounds with children's playful voices blessing...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
'Happy New Year Trees'</div>
The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3907380937848720197.post-20520559258753438202015-01-28T14:57:00.000+00:002015-01-28T14:57:24.580+00:00Magic in a rainy day walk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Oh such a glorious splish splashy day, of bluster and raindrops and puddle play,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Delighted ducks lead their ducklings along, pit patting their feet in a happy song,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
When tiny legs need a little rest, they ride up high where they can see the best,</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
And hopping in hoods seems a jolly idea </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
for flapping frolics in fun filled cheer, </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
But who is this wee one with such dainty steps, lifting silk skirts, sighing 'wet oh wet'..</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
wonder wonder who might she be, a princess so fine, an honour to see</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
the soft slippered toes of a fairy rose </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
are not made for puddles like ducks feet that waddle</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
'My dear may I offer, most humbly of course,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a ride on my back, though I am not a horse' </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxe_yA4sQVYorARATsosoBHEu-R7cN4DFMf_Ht5ksu9Ft_rqC2MmP_jXRYs6w0rL7i6hxSATo7YyO6KYmiuUk9k1k4rTs7mlAOMZv24SacoKPdwA5QZpS1XAGIX-QGAD6THxHOENGG7_0/s1600/IMG_4964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxe_yA4sQVYorARATsosoBHEu-R7cN4DFMf_Ht5ksu9Ft_rqC2MmP_jXRYs6w0rL7i6hxSATo7YyO6KYmiuUk9k1k4rTs7mlAOMZv24SacoKPdwA5QZpS1XAGIX-QGAD6THxHOENGG7_0/s1600/IMG_4964.JPG" height="590" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
'Dear fairy pray join us as we all go along, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
lend your magical voice to our pitta pat song'</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGI4tYAg894UGq4UFJaVEhDQ6aFJo_wTM2hvN1uDv3OXmzo6ceZSDjb2wDjoBdiI-LMv7VzW6jLC6dXkBemdRKE3-M1eM6vBfazWrsw6vesNL1bkAFXBWU0_e1ENVmLwiefwztRSoRrZw/s1600/IMG_4966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGI4tYAg894UGq4UFJaVEhDQ6aFJo_wTM2hvN1uDv3OXmzo6ceZSDjb2wDjoBdiI-LMv7VzW6jLC6dXkBemdRKE3-M1eM6vBfazWrsw6vesNL1bkAFXBWU0_e1ENVmLwiefwztRSoRrZw/s1600/IMG_4966.JPG" height="468" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />The Magic Fairy Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06054248342242401850noreply@blogger.com2