Our vintage 120 year old glass greenhouse has become a magnificent backdrop for a talented artist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A playful prankster who finds great fun in nipping noses, ears and fingers as well as an enormous amount of satisfaction and delight in painting ice patterns on lucky window panes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jack Frost is believed by some to be the mischievous son of the Frost King. He is known as King of The Winter Spirits and is a member of the Fairy Kingdom. A talented traveling artist we consider ourselves fortunate to be the recipient of such fine artistry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jack Frost is said to have the power to freeze shadows and he paints the beautiful fern like whirls you see frozen on window panes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When a glass window pane is exposed to outside air that is extremely cold and inside air that is warmer and moist, water vapor condenses on the glass forming (Jack Frost) patterns. Imperfections and scratches or dust particles on the glass influence the types of patterns Jack Frost can create. Often called fern frost or ice flowers because of the patterns created.

 

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 and believing in possibilities which you cannot always see;

Maybe magic is the same as dreaming and wishing upon stars .

 

 

 

 

Somewhere far away in New England on the north side of a mountain in a village of hope, a small troop of Home Place Fairies gather together in the deepest hours of twilight. On this evening each year they have the ability to shape shift, increasing their size to that of mortal children. In order to do so they must shed their wings and leave them behind closeted deep within their chambers of an old oak tree.

While a human child slumbers in a farmhouse nearby the fairies happily gather stardust to grind into powder, precious and fine.

Filling finely woven willow baskets the fairies look high and they look low.  Sensing the sleeping child they enter her dream. All the while an old horse stands watching , he’s waited many years for this day.

They are the Wand Makers and this is their hour . These fairies have no time to waste as they march across the meadow through the forest to the Stream of Dreams.

Here stands La Rosa, she is the Wand Keeper .

It is during these twilight hours of enchantment that stars reflections drop from the sky. Floating down the Stream of Dreams they are captured by the fairies on twigs of apple, ash and oak, creating powerful wands.

The Wand Makers must work together in tandem capturing enough starlight to empower all of their wands for one full year. Only on this day early each spring, before the buds turn green can they work this magic.

The Fairies work hard and in silence, with great concentration. They must not miss one starlight’s reflection as each represents a mortal child ‘s dream.

“Old Horse is waiting and time is running short. ” La Rosa tells the Wand Makers .

Nightingale and Lula Belle join Old Horse who has been watching and waiting near by.

Old Horse follows Nightingale. He’s been through this before and he knows what must be done.

To the edge of the meadow where the ancient orchard grows they take him, while in the farmhouse a girl child lays dreaming of starlight, and wands.

Old Horse bows his head as the fairies work their magic. He is re-enchanted with everlasting time. Though he ages he never grows old.

Into the little girl’s dream the fairies enter. “Come with us.” they whisper to the sleeping child.

And so the girl follows the fairies and Old Horse follows them, deeper into her dream they go.

As darkness begins to fade and dawn is on the rise the fairies gather their wands and stardust. Quickly they must head back to their chambers. At the entrance they will shape shift back to their wee size, adorn their wings and into the garden take flight.

In the morning when the little girl awakens, she walks  far into the meadow where the orchard grows.  She sees an old horse standing, waiting and she knows he is there for her; she recognizes him from her dreams. Together they walk as she leads him out of his past and into their future.

 

 

The following is such a beautiful story of one man’s generosity , one I thought worth repeating.

It is a mere a sketch of a story, as it really is Ryan’s story and therefore his for the telling.

Every once in a while you meet someone who’s living their dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ryan is such a person, and on the day he arrived in my gardens with Lady Katherine I could not help but notice how the birds sang louder; how flowers appeared more colorful and how the Fairy Folk instead of hiding fluttered freely as if welcoming one of their own. Even shy Luna the Enchanted Puppet showed herself, happily welcoming these guests.

A world traveler Ryan had just returned from South America, Thailand, India and Nepal.

Enchanted by the sound of an ancient Indian violin Ryan had traveled all the way to India in  hopes of finding a teacher and learning to play.

An amazing journey.

Below is a short video tale of what happened the day Ryan found his way into my garden.

The Traveler, The Camel and The Hand Pan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The background music is mbira, as the Fairies themselves have whispered I play.

Greetings from the endless garden of the mind…where color and flowers are always in bloom.

Follow your heart; and live your own great story out loud.

 

 

 

 

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!

 

 

 

 

“It’s not about what you look at that matters, it’s about what you see.”

Henry David Thoreau

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the north side of a small mountain in Maine,

The Home Place Fairies

 

 

 

 

 

 

Along with a Wizard and the Seamstress to the Fairies Welcome in the New Year.

Good tidings to each and every one of you!

 

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 their 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 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, promise 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 Christmas evening the child will not awaken when her Father gently carries her, tucks her in gently to her warm soft bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the morning this little girl will waken and will wonder if she only dreamed of all the fairies that danced the night before in the snow and around her bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merry Christmas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From Old Horse and the slumbering Fairies

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merry Christmas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From The Seamstress to the Fairies and Santa!

 

 

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 wander about my farm with a deepening sense of gratitude for the God of All, Things whomever and whatever we each perceive her to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Children’s Garden, all is still, the flowers slumber, dormant beneath a blanket of white; not a fairy nor human in sight.

 

 

 

 

 

Crossing the back meadow I pass Old Horse as he stands and has stood sentry for eons, guarding the entrance to the Home Place Fairies winter chamber as he has done each and every day.

 

 

 

 

 

Heading up the knoll strolling through the woodland amidst white with new fallen snow I am awed by the natural world all around me. Paco my pal forever and always will race me to Blue Fairy Hill.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We will walk through the glen where The Good Gnomes reside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paco and I, hiking to the top of Blue Fairy Hill where I pledge my allegiance to the land before and beneath me, far and wide.

 

 

 

 

 

Just before dusk sets in I hear laughter and catch a glimpse of a lone child at the top of the hill as she dances with her Teddy alone in the snow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This child has discovered an enchanted Christmas Tree left by the Fairies, Elves, Gnomes and Trolls.

Over her left shoulder way up in the sky I see the protective guiding light of the north star watching over her as she sings thanks to the powers that be.

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There I leave an offering upon 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 leave the woodland and head for home I sense though 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 lights.

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wishing you all wherever you are 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 us all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silence has it’s own special kind of magic,

Just as singing does.

 

 

 

Thanksgiving is tomorrow, which is very exciting, and made all the more so by the welcome gifts of gratitude Fairy Folk leave around our farm.

For an entire week leading up to Thanksgiving members of the Fairy Kingdom leave offerings of thanks for all the enchanted clothing I have sewn or mended for them over the year. They are grateful that the Wizard and I have maintained our gardens, woodlands and organic blueberry barrens where fairies and wildlings together mingle and grow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Foxchild, one of my very best friends has been keeping an eye out for the Elves, Brownies, Hobgoblins, Pixies, Sprites and Trolls (to name just a few)  who come ahead of time when no one is looking;  leaving the most delicious surprises which I will serve to family and friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Look what Nora Russell, a Troll from the Knoll left for me this morning at the entrance to the Enchanted Forest.

Why it’s one of her Trolly Delicious Flourless Chocolate Cakes!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nora, like most Trolls is a very accomplished chief. Each year for as long as I can remember  she has left us one of these exquisite cakes.

This year’s cake is topped with fresh pomegranate seeds and walnuts, set in a herbal bed of fragrant rosemary. Yum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nora’s husband William Edwin is gifted composer and violinist, and Nora as well as being a fine chief has a lovely soprano voice. Nora and Edwin perform together with the Grand Troll Opera, and they are about as romantic a couple as you could ever hope meet. Only chances are you will not meet them because Trolls are notoriously shy of humans, so encounters seldom happen.

However if you have a fair amount of patience and a keen ear you might hear, when the breeze is just right; after the wind has died down, William Edwin Troll playing his mesmerizing Marguerite Waltz on Violin as his friend Belya Troll accompanies him on piano.

 

Live your own great story out loud and remember to thank those whose gentle acts of kindness have touched you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We know it’s a different kind of year and things are not quite the same, but the world has a wonderful way of righting itself with time.

A Very Happy Holiday to All of You Near and Far!

Happy Thanksgiving from The Home Place Fairies!