Which way to Fairyland?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That all depends on how much you believe in Fairies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And how much you believe in possibilities.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Also how adventurous and imaginative you are.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Live your own great story out loud.

The possibilities are endless.

 

 

The view of my back meadow all covered with snow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the grandchildren ask, “Where do the fairies go?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The fairies have left the meadows, the orchard, the gardens and Blue Fairy Hill for the warmth of their chambers in a Great Oak Tree.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They fluttered through the gardens passing beneath the arbor where Arctic Hardy Kiwi grows.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Past the glass greenhouse where Paco romps in the snow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Past the Fairy Wardrobe where mortal children dress up and play.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All is left as they left it, they will return in the spring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Magic is in the hands and hearts of all true believers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Live your life like a Great Story.

Express yourself,

Be adventurous,

Be creative,

Remain curious about the natural world around you.

 

My dear sister of the heart, Dory Anna is a friend of the fairy folk, she is also a seamstress who crafts beautiful  woolen capes made with love to last a lifetime.

Dory Anna began dreaming of and creating enchanting capes a long, long time ago; she now makes storybook capes for children in her Portland Maine studio.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dory Anna is someone who has lived a great story by following her heart and dreams.

 

Ours is a glorious world filled with all sorts of surprises.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those who seek experience the extra ordinary possibilities found in unexpected places.

Happy New Year from the Seamstress to the Fairies!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once a long, long time ago

I knew a little girl

who lived in a little house

in a little wood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The little girl lived with a fairy horse and two tame wolf dogs deep within an enchanted forest in a clearing by a stream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Each day the little girl would walk with the animals through the forest learning from nature.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the years passed the little girl learned how to listen to all of the inhabitants of the forest and in time she spoke their languages.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By listening and looking closely the little girl discovered the diversity of other beings and how integral those differences are to the well being of all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the little girl grew she witnessed the brotherhood of every living thing.

 

Glossary:

integral:      essential

essential:    absolutely necessary

diversity:   of many different elements or types

brotherhood:  a feeling of closeness that exists between a group which chooses to live or work together

 

From the moment I stepped out into my dooryard this morning I knew this day was special.

All about me the ground was covered with new fallen snow; all was silent, all was still.

It is Christmas Eve, the eve before the most sacred  day of all days in all of the world .

Fairies,  humans and  animals all respect and honor this day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I intentionally wandered about my farm with a deepening sense of gratitude for the God of all things whomever and whatever you perceive him to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Entering  the pit greenhouse far below the frost line, I was awed by how the greenery flourishes despite the outside snow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Children’s Garden, all was still, the flowers  dormant under a blanket of white, not a fairy nor human in sight.

 

 

 

 

 

Crossing the back meadow I passed Old Horse as he stood sentry, guarding the entrance to the fairies winter chamber as he does each and every  day.

 

 

 

 

 

I headed up the knoll through the woodland with Paco to Blue Fairy Hill,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We crossed the bridge over The Stream of Dreams where the wand makers create magic each Easter in spring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and we walked through the glen where the gnomes reside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paco and I continued on, hiking to the top of the hill where I pledged my allegiance  to the land before me far and wide.

 

 

 

 

 

Just before dusk set in I heard laughter and caught a glimpse of a lone child  at the top of the hill as she danced with her Teddy  in the snow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The child had discovered an enchanted Christmas Tree left by the Fairies.

Over her left shoulder the protective, guiding light of the north star watched as she sang thanks to the powers that be.

Heading back down the hill Paco and I entered  the enchanted Woodland where the Home Place Fairies dwell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There I left an offering in the Alter of the Fairies at the foot of their Great Oak Tree.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My gift to them, a token of thanks for all the magic they bring to our world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I left the woodland and headed for home I sensed but could not see the Home Place Fairy folk looking out at me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My little farmhouse looks so cozy and warm after a day wandering about in the cold.

 

 

 

 

 

The walkway to home looks inviting, all a glimmer and welcoming with Christmas lights .

There truly is no place like home on a Christmas Eve night with loved ones, pets and family at your side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wishing You A Fairy Merry Christmas from the north side of a small mountain in Maine!

Love from  The Home Place Fairies and The Fairy Seamstress

Peace be within you.

 

From the north side of a small mountain in Maine we wish you a Fairy Merry Christmas and a Fairy Happy New Year!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What could be better than Christmas?

Why a Christmas Birthday!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Birthday Nightingale and Feliz Cumpleanos Perico !!!

Good Tidings and Best Wishes From The Seamstress to The Fairies, The Home Place Fairies and Old Horse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Christmas is a powerful time in the Fairy Kingdom, the Elves and Gnomes are particularly busy.

Human children far and wide are writing lists of wishes, wants and desires.

The Home Place Fairies cheerfully depart from cozy winter chambers waving wands, busily casting enchantments upon any childhood wish that happens to linger, determining the integrity of each wish by the weight of a child’s sincerity as opposed to desire.

The magic of all your believing begins with a wish…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Christmas is the perfect occasion for creating your own great life story.

Imagine walking out your  front door into the world of your imagination.

How wonderful, how utterly fantastical that could be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here atop Blue Fairy Hill a little girl dances alone with her Teddy in new fallen snow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She dances the dance of the hopeful.

A dance of youth and infinite possibilities.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later she will return home to her sister and family.

She will carefully place the last ornament on their fir tree, wishing for kindness, for fresh food on their table, for family unity, love and understanding…. a game maybe and a new soft toy or two.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the end of the day she will fall asleep with her fuzzy in a box by the fire.

The Fairies will linger watching over the child, taking into account all of her dreams and desires, her past and present behaviors and the depth of her heart.

If they determine her worthy, which they do….they will weave together all of her wishes, hopes and desires into an invisible but potent shroud…

And they will cover the sleeping child with this shroud, instilling upon her the courage to strive and move forward, to believe in her own character…to have the bravery to live her own great story out loud.

Later this evening the child will not awaken as her Father carries her to her warm bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the morning she will wonder if she only dreamed of all the fairies that danced the night before in the snow and around her head .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merry Christmas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From Old Horse and the slumbering Fairies

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merry Christmas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From The Seamstress to the Fairies and Santa!

 

 

Children have been asking this question for generations.

A wonderful book of poems called “Beyond The Mountain” by Sarah Stokes Halkett published in 1917 asks this same question.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here in Maine on the north side of a small mountain I am Seamstress to a troop of Home Place Fairies.

I sew and weave a very elaborate assortment of clothing for these fairies to suit their needs.

I also create with the fairies assistance what I like to call, “wearable gardens” for human children.

The Home Place Fairies in turn help the Wizard and I care for the orchards on our farm as well as assist bees pollinating flower and vegetable gardens and fields of organic blueberries.

Old Horse is Guardian of the Home Place Fairies and has lived here at the farm as long as anyone can remember.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Long ago enchanted by the Fairies, he ages though he never grows old.

So where do the fairies go when it snows ….

Old Horse knows , but he’s not saying.

This sweet poem from “Beyond The Mountain” was asking that same question in 1917 and well, it’s still being asked today.

 

The Snowdrops

Where do the pretty fairies go

When the world is white with snow?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I asked the sun, he did not know,

He never saw the fairies go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where do the gentle fairies stay

When all the world is cold and gray?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I asked the moon, he could not say;

He too wonders where the fairies stay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where do the pretty fairies hide

When on the snow we slip and slide?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I asked the stars, they only sighed;

It’s lonely when the fairies hide.

Where do the pretty fairies go?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think perhaps the flowers know

I’ll wait until the snowdrops grow,

And ask them where the fairies go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fairies are mysterious little beings and maybe we as humans are not meant to know the answer to every little thing.

Possibly real magic rests in faith

In believing in possibilities and what you cannot always see.

Wondering, dreaming

the wishing upon stars ….