The gift of a rising moon

Once upon the wings of magical time a rising moon noticed the fine branches of a forest tree reaching up, and so the moon beamed with happiness and shone on the tips of the tree’s twigs and the tree breathed in delight. If you had been close by that night, and if you too had had playful noticing eyes, you might has seen that the tree and the moon were not quite alone in their joyful meeting. Where silver light met dark bark a rainbow sliver momentarily sang, and on the ground below a soft white bunny pricked up an ear to hear.

Many times the moon rose and the tree grew. The tree loved to bathe in the moonlight on still nights, but even when the clouds hid the moon's face, the tree knew the feeling of the beaming love, for this silver magic had seeped into the tree’s sap. One such cloudy night the tree was dancing with the wind, a boisterous jig, when all of a sudden part of a branch flew from its trunk and landed on the ground bellow. This was a lucky gift to that rainbow sprite, who was being buffeted about up high and now found shelter to sleep on the forest floor.

It was here, after the storm had passed, that the dear lady who hears the stories in the wood gathered that branch and took it home to her wonder filled workshop. And it was there that this part of the tree showed her its story by becoming a small bed of the rising moon.

The moon rose many times and shone through the workshop window, where the little bed sat and waited, and waited, and grew in dreams.
One day the dear lady who heard the stories of wood was talking with her friend in a far away land and she mentioned the little moon rising bed, and she made an invitation, and in that moment the dreams which had been growing all around the little bed slipped out of the workshop window and flew.

One very misty milky morning, on a beach of round moon chalk pebbles, a small being started to grow in the hands of a magic fairy lady, she grew in soft white and her hat reached down her back, for though it kept her head warm in the sea mist, she knew it might also be a sleeping cap. This wee one smiled gently and showed the way for her pocket to become the landscape of the story that her heart sang. From that landscape grew the sea’s ancient mother of pearl moon. Then out of that mysterious pocket there came two tiny storytelling puppets, a silk rainbow fairy and a soft white bunny.
The story, which she told the magic fairy lady, was of the moon that rose and touched the tips of trees and how one of the moon’s rainbow fairies was so happy that she skipped down the tree branch to earth. But of course while she was dancing on the forest floor, the moon, unknowing, continued to rise, until it was high high out of reach. Luckily a soft white bunny kept the fairy warm, and through many adventures around and about taught her to hop high enough to catch a moonbeam home. 
The magic fairy lady listened and watched in delight, and then she told this precious being about the small moon rising bed that was waiting, and the wee girl smiled and set off on a journey.
When the dear lady who could hear the stories of wood, held that being and lay her in the bed of the rising moon, she found that she fitted as if the bed had been made especially for her.

And the wee girl with her magical story telling puppets slept and dreamt of the playing they would do with a child in a land near or far, who was waiting and dreaming too, in the light of the rising moon.

If you know someone who might be waiting and dreaming of playing with this small being, her puppets, her bed and her little night table, please enter our magic nest giveaway here: 

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  1. A wounderful story for a picturebook. I love it. Particularly the little doll with the fairy and the hare, I find sweet.
    Best greetings

    1. Thank you Susi, I am so happy that you found this story and that it pleased you ♡

  2. Delightful story and art. cheers Marie