Wednesday, 16 November 2022
Kindling joy for Advent
Saturday, 6 August 2022
How they sometimes come to along
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.
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.
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.
Until I come across them again, and wonder when and how they began.
This is how it happened with this wee one
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.
Monday, 1 August 2022
The Lammas Queen and the young farmer - A Harvest Story
Tuesday, 2 March 2021
The Story Teller's Spring Tale
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.
(You can find the stories for winter, autumn and summer in the previous posts)
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.
Gathering the this littlest one to her heart, the story teller leads the way to the old evergreen.And there with his back in the tree they find the green healer and they hear him too, fluting a conversation with the birds.
Sunday, 31 January 2021
A Story Teller's Winter Tale
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.
Sunday, 20 December 2020
A story teller's autumn tale
Now in the quiet time, the in-between time, the pause of the year, there are moments once more for stories to grow and fully form themselves. In the months of autumn blustering winds and my busy time, I have been stealing moments for whisperings, shared dreamings and the watering of words with this wonderous story teller. While the dear kindred soul who wished this being into becoming has been waiting patiently for the autumn tale, which is it my joy to now share.
Tumbling down the hill and tripping over the roots of the huge old hollow tree
And in that secret nook, all lined with the soft growings of the rainbow bird’s song,
Rowan’s shiniest conker is held by all
Daisy gives generous tastes of her seeded bread
Fern shows how to make a corn cobb doll and a dragon too