HOLLOW WOODS

A troll in Hollow Woods

2012-03-01T07:57:00.012-08:00

A dark figure--a sorts of a troll had entered Hollow Woods the other day. He looked around and didn’t’ like what he saw there...

He was furious, and thus went to find the Fairy Godmother of Hollow Wood to complain about all the things he saw and didn't like, which I am sure it was the right thing to do. Sometimes the sprites and fairies of Hollow Woods do mischievous things, and need to be reprimanded for their behavior.

You see, like everybody else, they make mistakes, but these are things that could be easy fixed, or corrected, as the sprites and fairies of Hollow Woods are of a good nature and don’t mean bad to anybody. If asked kindly and with respect, they’re more than happy to correct whatever wrong deed they’ve done.

The troll didn’t know a thing about good manners, or of being polite; courteousness was not one of his best qualities. Of course, being a troll that’s what you do. Trolls shout and destroy things and when they open their filthy mouth you can see all the blackness there are in their heart... Yes, you can see through them all the way to their very heart.

And thus, this troll threatened to destroy the flora and wipe out the fauna of Hollow Woods. You can imagine how sad the inhabitants felt. But they could tell right away that this troll was of a weak spirit. His soul was drained. And although on the outside he gave the false impression of being tough, he was really weak; weak of spirit—pathetic little thing inside; turned to the dark side and the downfall of drugs.

Good manners means displaying respect for others, and you should use good manners even with those you think have wronged you in any way. Good manners can help you to have better relationships with people you know, and those you will meet. It’d help you obtain what you want, or need too. Kindness and respect are magical words. So, think things out before speaking, especially if you are poor at finding the right words.

(Art by Frederic-Lievre)

Mysteries

2012-02-26T12:43:00.016-08:00

Have you ever felt this strange feeling that there is another you somewhere out there?

I mean a sort of a karmic soul-mate... someone with whom you share some deeply rooted connection even though you don't this person; nor have ever seen her in real life; yet you feel very much in tune with each other... a connection from past lives maybe?

I feel like that sometimes. You and I think so much alike, and there's so much that we have in common it is almost scary.

The mystery deepens when I will be about to write or post something here and then you had already post about something similar, and if I think about something a lot in one day you will end up bringing it up also. I think it means something else rather than coincidence. What do you think? How do these things happen?

Sometime ago I read that karmic soul-mates can be anybody. They are part of our soul family. When our souls are created, they become part of a soul family. Many souls are created at the same time. Not all souls will go to the same family just as not all humans born belong to the same Earthly family.

Have you ever experienced something like that in your own bloggy experience? Life is full of mystery. Every where you look you can find wonder, beauty and magnificence. By keeping your senses open, you will find much to be grateful for. The unknown, mystery of life reveals itself through right action, and observation.

Snow in Hollow Woods

2012-02-01T19:48:00.000-08:00

In Hollow Woods, a small ancient village located north to the South Wind and south to the Anemoi, winds do not simply blow in straight lines from north to south. Instead, they are bent by the spinning of the Earth; hence, it never snows here… It's not supposed to! But today it did. It snowed!

It’s a mystery difficult to explain. The woods had opened its gates to Father Winter for the first time ever, and hard as I might try to define this very puzzling occurrence, I find myself baffled by it. Everything let me to believe that it was I who brought it… brought Father Winter with me to Hollow Woods! Ah yes, I think I know what must have happened...

You see, it was snowing in my real world this morning... the white sky had eased itself onto the earth, and big, wet, heavy flakes started falling down the sky... you know the kind; that kind of snow that whispers, and speaks and shouts words in a mysterious language no one can understand. I could hear its crackles and scrunches and enigmatic squeaks as I walked the gardens. This was very frightening as you can imagine!

Silver icicles were hanging from the snowy roof like jagged monsters' teeth, and the trees carried within themselves the forms of the witches...

The wind blew icy slivers of snow across my face; I could see his round frigid mouth forming puffs... Oh, how I wanted to be in sweet warm Hollow Woods that very minute! I lost no more time in thinking about it and pushed open the magic door into Hollow Woods, and then... that's when it happened I'm sure!

As I was being transported through time and space through tunnels of lights and colors, all I could think of was Hollow Woods. So I must have forgotten to close the magic door behind me at the bottom of the garden.

And I’m glad I did! (Well, at least for this time!) Father Winter has illuminated the woods. In other seasons, we never get to see this landmark because tree lines obscure the far highland. Now, Father Winter's winds have taken all the leaves away with them, and snow cleared off the lines of the land. You can see it now; a bumpy backbone descending to a lovely creek, and below, the precious village. After a snow storm, after the white sky has eased itself onto the earth, Father Sunshine erases the chalk dust of clouds and let his sunlight penetrate the forest... then, a wonderful miracle takes place: Every secret is reveal. It is a wonderful and magical thing! Ah yes, I'm glad I brought Father Winter with me today to Hollow Woods!

There's a place a dream about

2012-01-28T20:30:00.000-08:00

Right on the last day of summer, last year, I went to my garden to bid my farewell to my favorite season. I wasn't expecting anything unusual, but I immediately felt this twinkling inside; the wonder of life, my hopes, and dreams were floating about, just waiting to be grabbed on to.

Nature has a magical power in me. Whenever I’m surrounded by Nature, particularly when I’m in my garden, I am aware of that other realm of existence, more beautiful and vast than words can describe... certainly, the universe is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.

It was an extraordinary moment—being there all alone in my garden with such beautiful feelings and thoughts swirling all around me. It was like hopping on a magic carpet and being able to taste and breathe a place, somewhere, outside our world. A place where time stands still; a place where you are a better you and unseen entities come alive… perhaps these entities are souls from a forgotten past; or maybe some creatures of a superior order; like angels and archangels, and where for a moment, you are but the wind that weaves forgotten lives and thoughts—a “you” outside you.

Have you ever experienced something like that? I am sure some of you have. And we are very much connected indeed.

There's a place I dream about
Where the sun never goes out.
And the sky is deep and blue.
Won't you take me there with you.
We can begin again.
Shed our skin, let the sun shine in.
At the edge of the ocean
We can start over again.
There's a world I've always known
Somewhere far away from home.
When I close my eyes I see
All the space and mystery.
We can begin again.
Shed our skin, let the sun shine in.
At the edge of the ocean
We can start over again.

A WITCH’S DWELLING

2012-01-12T16:39:00.000-08:00

Have you even been inside a witch’s cottage? I didn’t think so! Would you like to visit one? Oh I think you might like to... Yes? OK then, come on!

All witch’s cottage are not the same. As every flower is different from each other so are each witch from each other; and so are the dwellings they choose to live in. I once met a witch who lived in a beautiful lot on the mountainside overlooking undisturbed forested mountains that housed many homes. Her home had spring water and solar energy. So close to people she lived; yet, nobody knew they had a witch for a neighbor!

But that’s not the norm, usually. More likely, you’ll find witches living deep in the forest. Most of the witches I’ve known lived there—in the forest; among the tall ancient trees that at night wake up and stretch, and blink their eyes and talk to each other and even move around.

To pass unnoticed, and to prevent being discovered, witches may construct magical house which may have the illusive form of a regular den or a burrow; like the dens raccoon and other small creature would use for temporary shelter.

The technique of camouflage is used by the animals for survival purposes and to avoid being captured by the predators, but witches are the supreme masters of disguise, and by camouflaging their homes they demonstrate their unique, amazing and diverse ability to deceive; blending themselves as they do with the environmental surrounding, or hiding in order to maintain their survivals.

It’s been known that witches sometimes like to build houses with amazing similitude to the common bird’s nest you’d find in tree branches, or a hole in tree trunks, a rabbit hole in the ground, and even a spider’s web on bushes, and any other places you think an animal may be living… many other sites are imitated, or used as an illusion, including piles of leaf litter, the crooks of trees, old squirrel nests, or even piles of reeds, or a shelter of vegetation or mudflats piles… but don’t let appearances fool you. Watch the signs and activities around these shelters and you’ll see what I mean.

Inside that apparent burrow or rabbit hole hides a totally different world. Once you cross the entrance of a witch’s humble burrows or dens (if you can make it through) you’ll find yourself inside the most lovely of cottages, with windows bathed in sunshine and mysterious rooms filled to the brim with the normal witch’s cornucopia; such as spell potions and magic concoctions and bottles of liquid remedies and weaved baskets filled with aromatic plants and dried herbs, tonics and old caldrons and ancient human skulls and bones...

How would I know about these things?—you might be wondering. I know, because once, when lost in the forest, I happened upon one of those ground burrows I‘d mentioned.

The hobbit house I saw emerged from the earth as I was making my way through the thick underbrush and tall ancient trees that swayed together, exuberantly, with branches and tendrils that seemed to be reaching out to each other.

It was getting dark and the only shelter I could thought of to spend the night was the hobbit house; which, by the way, it was really just a rabbit hole—minuscule and muddy. So I squeezed myself almost flat through the tiny entrance and got in. And what do you know!

I was render speechless with that I saw! No. Not the nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with worms and the oozy smell I was expecting... oh no! It was the most glorious little cottage I had ever seen, with walls and foundations made from stone, and all of the flooring, finishing, windows, plumbing; virtually everything inside, was re-purposed from scrap materials from the forest.

A wood burner heated the cottage, and an ingenious system that piped cool air in from underground kept the refrigerator at an optimum temperature. A skylight filled the small home with natural light, water was sourced from a nearby spring, and solar panels provided all of the necessary electricity.

It was an amazing little hobbit house, or a witch’s house, and I liked it so much that I even asked the witch who owned it if at least I could come visit whenever I wanted. My wish was granted, and even now, after so many years since my discovery, I still come here from time to time just to relax and just be. It’s pure bliss!

I wish I could draw you a map to help you find your way here; but I’m not allow to… and we know better than disobeying a witch’s wish; right? I certainly won’t want to do that! Wishing you a magical week, whether shimmering with stardust or just your glowing selves!

(Image source: Arwensgrace and Internet)

THE TROLL WHO LIVES IN MY GARDEN

2011-12-29T10:14:00.000-08:00

It snowed again today. It started with a light dusting of snow, but soon the dull landscape got covered in white... and now just outside the window I hear the authentic sound of winter… can you hear it too?

...it's a jingling crackity-crickity scattering swish in the distant beyond the garden. It sounds like the breaking of thousand tiny glasses under a thousand tiny boots. An army of elves perhaps? Oh, I know better than that! Who would have thought such nonsense? Certainly, no elf, for tiny as they may be, could have make such dreadful noises. In fact, I have a feeling I know what it might be... in that far corner. Can you see it too?

I should have stayed home; snuggled by the roaring fire in my cozy refuge, but a force bigger than myself is pushing me on, to go forward... to go outside... to the garden. I have no other choice than to obey it.

It is cold out here... very cold. The skies have a leaden lowness to them and the winds are chilly. As I keep walking I see trees swaying under paper-pale surroundings, and under my feet pure white piercing the flesh with thousand icy knives.

I’m almost certain that a troll lives in my garden. If you have never seen one, winter trolls are as bleak as snow and as rigid as ice. Trolls like the Northern troll Barbegazi, do not come out until the first snowfall, they’re winter creatures, and are rarely sighted by humans, but I have this strange feeling that a winter troll inhabits my garden... Ah yes, he dwells among the underground caves beneath my garden, and on certain days, on those dreary winter days when the sun hides from us human and the landscape dresses in white, I can see him lurking among the bushes. But oh there's more than that... I can feel him too; I am trapped in his frigid gizzards!

Early one morning many moons ago I went out to the garden to collect my thoughts. People were inside their cozy homes sleeping, or just starting to wake up. They didn't know that something monstrous was arising... but I knew. Ah yes, the troll was coming up!

Suddenly, everything turned quiet and ominous, not a bird was seen fluttering around the bird feeders, not a mourning dove searching the frozen ground for a spare seed... only that dreadful sound of snow cracking under an evil foot beyond the garden. The huge foot print I saw engraved in the snow was enough to send a cold chill running down my spine.

So there I was... so close to such an eerie creature I almost fainted. I could smell him, and I could see his pupils sending out silent dreadful messages.

Unable to think or do anything but try to escape, I scrambled through the bushes as best as I could and run back home...

Running running; running back towards safety I went... across the valley floor I ran; up the little hill behind the garden like a stallion I went; over the field, through the garden, through the gate... unmindful of what I was leaving behind... Hurry! The troll is coming! That was all I could think of!

I was almost home when finally I decided I should turned around to make sure the troll hadn't followed me... that's when I thought I saw someone... another troll? Oh dear me!It was a woman! A woman as ashen and horrid as the Abominable Snow Man himself rambled behind the winter troll... from where I was standing I could see how the stalactites around her started to drip and how every droplet of water left a mineral laden trace on the ground.

She paused for a moment to contemplate the fragile shafts of sunlight that pierced the shrubbery, casting multiple shadows on the ice-covered ground. She looked fascinated by its luster, and then I saw her reaching out her arm to try to catch the tiny rivulets of water trickling from a tree branch, like tears to the frozen land... she looked sad to me.

Who was this gloomy creature?—I thought.

All a sudden I had this odd sensation I knew who she was... yes yes yes, it had to be the Snow Bride!—the poor poor woman given as companion to the Abominable Snow Man by the most terrible of all terrible, the sinister Winterlord.

Some people in my village don’t believe in these things, but if you come to my garden you’d know that everything I’m saying is plain truth, and the honest truth is that the supernatural do happen here in my garden. You would probably see the usual trees, the usual flowers and usual shrubbery, but there’s always more than meet the eyes in everything. In reality, the whole garden is waiting patiently—waiting for the precise moment to awake and greet the unnatural.

But don’t you be frightened by this! You see, not everyone can see or perceive the unnatural world. Only some people do. Perhaps I can sense and see what for most would pass unseen because I’m different.

I was born as the old grandfather clock chimed midnight, on a night when the earth's circle of illumination followed the summer solstice. Perhaps I see these things because my first breath coincided with the blistering breath of summer as it came up from under the ground wrapping us into the new season, and thus, my eyes were opened by sunshine. The sun guides my footsteps. But the eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend. The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.

It is written on the blanket of snow where my feet sink, in the shape of wings printed on the snow, some strands of dust, like fairy dust on bright summer nights, a scent... there is no words to describe my life...

A walk in Hollow Woods

2011-11-27T13:36:00.000-08:00

I am trapped...

…Trapped in labyrinths of lushness under a sleepy blue sky...

...lost in a magical sun-dappled forest...

Through winding sunlit fairy paths...

Enchanted under the spell of the woods... in peaceful reverie through the worshiping trees..

With its sounds and scents and its sheath of sunshine and deep blues...

Drinking in the beauty of the surroundings... trees, grass and sky. Nature is singing to me; I can hear that what others cannot hear...

Secret paths bathed in heavenly sunbeams... feet 'a dancing; heart aglow.

Morning dew, leaves of golden... and the forest seems immensely large. It’s as if I’m walking in another world in another dimension.

Oh and look! Do you see what I see? A cottage! Over there... winding throughout the sunlit path! Can you see it now? I must go see...

Just a while ago I saw a flipping light and followed it through the bushes... it took me here to this lovely little cottage... is this your cottage? I have a feeling I’ve already been to your house in the wood time ago... don't you remember?

The sunlight slanting through the trees kindles the undergrowth of the forest to a glowing green and wildflowers abound throughout the trail with the fragrance of fresh pure heavenly perfume in the air... There is life and music in every corner. To me the forest is as food to one who wakes hungry after a long dark dream.

Rivers that run through the forests are like magical roads—roads that move and carry our spirits to places untold and dreamy lands...

Long long ago, my ancestors believed that rivers were the truest secret keepers of mankind. Rivers carry our most inner secrets within themselves. Untold secrets... secrets that must remain buried under many waters... rivers would carry their secrets to faraway places, and protect them from them.

So they would rush to the rivers and throw their most intimate secrets at the dark mysterious waters, like offerings of magical jewels...

Every time I walk along a river's bank I am reminded of my ancestors and imagine them bringing their offerings to the rivers as they walked in their leafy tabernacle, shrouded in silence...

Morning dew on the leaves, memories that don't belong to me; yet they're still there... "Come away, oh human child... to the waters and the wild with a fairy hand in hand".

In some sunlit trails and meadows within this enchanted forest, many plants are grown in profusion. I’m sure fairies love tending them and I can see sprites gathering nectar from them by moonlight and pixies hiding within their protective greenery... now, if you'd excuse me, I'm going to go see who lives in that cottage...

I hope is not a witch or some other strange creature...

But don't worry, I have a feeling I've been there before, and know what to expect. I can already foresee it: the soft inviting light, the mood of magic and peaceful sensation to the room. And wafting from the small and cozy kitchen the smell of cinnamon and the comfort of caramelized sugar. And then there is that smell—the smell of home and hope, the kind of smell that cures fear.

Off I go... would you like to come along? Let's go then. Down the happy path we go. You can almost feel the spells and magic fluttering in the wind, while gentle whispers of sprites and fairies secrets dance around your ears! Oh oh, but can I tell you another sort of secret? This place is real... very real and if you want you can visit it too!

Hope you have enjoyed our little trip!

The magic door

2011-10-29T12:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when stars are twinkling and a new moon shines, there come times when folks are taken to another world by enchanted creatures... Ah yes, I’m certain of this because last night as I was getting ready to put on my nighties and go to bed, the strangest of things happened... I heard a whisper; the sound of little feet scurrying around, and when I looked about the room something truly magical caught my breath away…

Ah yes my friends, the room was aglow! Aglow with the light of some sorts of magical beings; mysterious and cerulean in color... like little wings in flight; like lighting bugs making twinkling stars on walls, on the floors on the roof and all around me!

Perplexed by this, I decided to follow these strange beings of lights; which by the way, took me straight to the garden.

Helped by a round silvery moon, I was finally able to figure out the mystery… they were fairies!—night fairies not much bigger than a firefly with wings the color of sapphire and indigo. These tiny creatures were extremely agile; they kept flapping their tiny wings around me; hovering all over the garden in almost any direction, including upside down and backwards, and with movement so fast that they looked like a blur to my eyes...

They were certainly trying to tell me something... or show me something, that’s for sure!

When the little fairies understood I knew their intentions, they flew ahead of me towards the back of the garden; over to the hedge where the tall trees stand like ghost amidst the shadows talking strange things between them in some strange language.

That’s when I saw it… amidst the bushes and tall trees—the magic door!!

Yes, I knew that’s where the magic door was… it had always been there. But why would the night fairies bring me here… now, at this time of night?

I hadn’t been to these parts of the garden in a long time. You see, I had lost the magic key to the magic door many a moons ago. Not being able to access the magic door that takes me to mysterious and enchanted worlds, I had stopped coming here. But now the night fairies were trying to tell me something... “Look there”—they seem to be saying. And so I did…

Parting bushes and shrubbery so thick and tight together you would almost thought you were opening yet another door, I was finally able to step onto the back side of the garden… and what do you know! The key! The magic key!

It had been such a long time since I last seen it that it took me a while to realize how lucky I was to have found it. Indeed, the key looked old and scrubby, but still was the magic key!

Did I go visit some interesting and bizarre world through the magic door? At that time of night? You bet I did! You wouldn’t think I could’ve waited till morning, would you?

I was way too excited to wait until morning! Besides, earlier that day I was informed by the fairies of a very important and mysterious celebration going on—a gathering of witches in some distant land. And I didn’t want to miss that!

Ah yes, deep in the woods a dark secret awakes. It’s been said that for centuries a coven of witches met secretly each October to practice their magic. Indeed, there is something evil out there in the deep woods. The witches are hiding, wary of a presence that has grown too strong... shadows of a thousand years rises unseen, voices whisper in the trees, it's that time of year again, when the veil between the seen and unseen is lifted, and alluring darkness takes it’s place. When magic fills the air and mystery enters... if you go to the woods at the very brink of night you’ll see them witches flying into the darkest of skies.

Nevertheless, I am going there through my magic door this very moment. Would you like to come with me and see what the witches are doing? Yes? OK then… through the magic door we go, through the trees into the woods…

The gathering of witches

2011-10-23T15:44:00.000-07:00

The witches have been visiting the house in the roses… in disguise, of course. Oh I know they have. They’ve been there; quietly watching me, quietly reading what I write and even smiling at times, although they won’t talk. No, they would not move; not a wisp of a word would utter their mouth, not even a small eerie crackle… for reasons unknown to me, they just don’t want me to know they go there, but they do. In fact, they visit more often than you’d think. But that’s just between you and me. So for now, I’ll pretend I know nothing… although I do!

How would I know they’ve been there—the witches; you would ask. Well, I just know. I can smell them. You see, from time to time I get this whiff of a faint scent… a scent of jasmine lingering in the air—a witch’s scent, I’m sure. So subtle it is that most probably you wouldn’t even notice it, but not me… Oh, I notice, I smell, I sense.

There’s magic in the air… and mystery too! There’s nonsense everywhere; deep in the whispering night, across the sky. And that’s because witches are celebrating their annual witches’ gathering.

So... shall we join the witches in their merriment? I can’t decide. Deciding is such a big deal to me. It’s plainly a tough thing to do! What shall I do—I wonder.

Oh I know what I can do... for now, I can hold my candle steady and keep a sharp lookout, for I have this feeling that back among the shadows there might be goblins peeping out…

It’s that time of year again, when the suns recoils and the veil between the seen and unseen is lifted giving power to the alluring darkness… a bouquet of metaphors is scattered before us, and from these petals of imagination rise the sight and sounds of a haunting night; a bubbling caldron… a witch’s hat, an eyeball medallion; a sorceress here… and there, too.

It's the forest of our imagination.

2011-10-16T15:07:00.000-07:00

Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves,

We have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!

(Humbert Wolfe)

The shadow...

2011-10-06T19:20:00.001-07:00

One day in early October I set out for a walk. The village looked especially dreamy that day with lawns full of fragrant flowers and cozy little cottages all bathed in sunshine. Blossoms carried by autumn breezes fluttered everywhere that morning. Everything I saw and heard spoke to my heart by ways of magic: The feel to the atmosphere, the crispiness lingering in the air, the old stone cottages with their delicate threads of grey and yellow resembling sunshine peeking through storm clouds, the flattering flat-roofed brick houses covered in vines and large red poppies, little children playing and happy women adorned with head kerchiefs and crimpled skirts in many colors...

When I got to the white marble fountain, I decided to sat down and rest awhile. The water in the fountain glimmer and flickered under the morning’s sun and all the water lilies sang enchanted song. I shiver with joy thinking how lovely and peaceful this little village was. Never ever would I want to leave this place!

Already rested, I decided to continue on down the old narrow blue cobblestone path but not before stopping to feed the pigeons. Shooing a limping pigeon back onto the pavement, I amble down one street and then another, until all a sudden I came about a lane running diagonal to the others. Walls of blackened brick frame the lane like iron gates and all the houses and all the little shops seemed old and forgotten, as out of an ancient story book. I stood there, looking about me somewhat puzzled. How did I get here?

Our village had three sides: the sunny village side; the dappled wooded area; and the dark, dark, ravine side which takes you deep into the forest—the scraggy and mysterious forest hardly visited by any one, except those unfortunate souls who lose their way in the woods. And now there I was, standing at the entrance of that tangled maze of a forest; known to be haunted by the strange ghost of a woman.

Nobody knew exactly who she had been, or where she had come from, or if perhaps, she had lived in the village in long lost times. But one thing was certain: Those who had seen her were never to forget her. It was said that she had sad big bright eyes deeply set in their sockets. It almost seemed the whole world was mirroring itself in them...

I always thought that those stories were just made up to frighten the children from going beyond our village, but that afternoon I was about to see something I would never forget.

As I was standing there looking into the dappled wooded area, I thought I heard a rustling of the bushes behind me; towards the shadows that marked the entrance of the woods.

I turned around, and I heard the mysterious rustling again… a twig snapped and I stared into the blackness of the mass of trees, thinking that it was probably just an animal… it was the woods, after all, right? And in the woods you can expect to hear all sorts of mysterious noises… noises in the trees, noises in the bushes and underbrush, like a loud screeching, like the beat of a cricket, but much louder and deeper…

Suddenly, a shadow moved, and I knew right then and there that something had to have caused that shadow. Not a tree, not the wind—there was no wind, and I couldn't think what animal could be that big.

"Wh-who's there?" I called.

A sound... a movement.

I had the nagging feeling someone was watching. The ghost of the strange woman perhaps? A witch, maybe? Indeed, something, or someone, was watching!

Suddenly, a loud screeching was heard… something like a “zarrapastra” spread all over the forest. I felt cold fear running down my spine, before I remembered that ghosts didn't have shadows, did they?

Maybe it was a bird or a bat? Bats make a high pitched squeaking sound like "eek" that can be very creepy… or maybe it was a fox identifying her territory. I once heard that foxes and fisher cats, a ferocious weasel like predator, make the creepiest warning cries. It had to be that, right?

I was mistaken! The same loud screech was heard again, but this time it was more like a voice—a voice that said: “come here”. I turned around, and I heard it again, only this time it sounded like it was coming from the woods. It was certainly a woman's voice, and there, right where I had just heard the voice I saw something else… a bizarre glowing shape standing in the woods. It was too hard to see it very clear, but it had the outline of a human.

The glowing shape stayed there for a few seconds... looking; reading my mind... until finally it disappeared.

What was it? I couldn't tell for sure. Would you have listen? Would you have dared turn around and follow the dark path into the mysterious woods? I certainly wouldn’t.

The next day, I took a few of my friends up to the place where I had seen the strange figure. But there wasn't anything there and my friends all said I was lying. I know that I wasn't, but I really don't know what I saw. Even so, whenever I go for a walk I try not to go near the forest. You'd never know what strange thing would come out of the shadows to hunt you.

A LETTER DELIVERED BY RAVENS

2011-10-03T18:44:00.001-07:00

It’s that time of year again — time to get out your witch’s hats, dust off those broomsticks and don your spookiest, scariest costumes for a frightful Haunted celebration! This spooky season is a favorite here in Hollow Woods!

What are your favorite places to celebrate the season of enchantment? Are you a witch, a storyteller, a fairy lost in the woods or just a traveler passing by? Whatever you are or just want to be, share your insights! Get into the spirit of the season and help guide the lost traveler of Hollow Woods to your own spooky spots.

Share your frightening favorites — and all the autumn awesomeness! — in the comments section. Get excited!

2011-09-20T18:24:00.000-07:00

I live here
This is my home...

But you’re there—across the world from me!

We must meet for tea sometime.
Perhaps tonight
At the stroke of midnight?
Oh but we must hurry, there’s no time to waste!
The dark is rising,
You must pay heed to the riddle
The instructions are given:

Upon your steps to my enchanted forest...
Luminous white and shimmering wings
Swirling whirling under the moon.
Upon petals so late at night to guide your way by magical lights.
Tip toe in forest deep, guiding you while half asleep.
Flitting up and down your dreams,
Reaching out to take your hand…

Any idea yet who I’m sending to escort you all the way to Hollow Woods? You guessed it right! Alba, the white owl, of course!

Hope you’d come! Oh, and would you let me know if you were able to see Alba in your dreams, or maybe somewhere in your garden? I’d love to know!

Sweet dreams, my friend!

Enchanted by rain and wind

2011-09-15T18:09:00.000-07:00

What would a witch be like, one from long ago, in an ancient era? How would she talk? Was she political? Did witches actually brew herbs in a forest lair?

I’ve known of a woman who lived in a garden; a witch—or so she thought she was. Was she a spiritual guide and a consultant in matters of nature, life, and the beyond?

She was just like you and me: A woman this I know. But every time rain came down and wind sweep through her garden whisking away all the leaves and petals, something magical happened inside her brain… she could hear the rain singing, and she could hear the wind calling her name; a whisper in her ears, beckoning her to frolic, in the cool late summer rain…

Do you sense things on the horizon? Many do. Do you ever experience intuition? She did too. She had a knack for knowing when it was going to snow, and she could hear, as birds migrated at night, the lift and fall of their wings… swish whoosh—the strong swift sound of their powerful wings mesmerizing her.

This realm we call life, is quite magical! And all of these senses, or ‘knowings’, are valid. And she was gifted with all of them. Do you think she might have been a witch?

"I smell what cannot be predicted. I see where the day has not yet shone. I hear the silence of a winter not yet hardened and the song of a spring not yet revealed.” – The Witch

A WITCH’S COTTAGE

2011-08-24T19:20:00.002-07:00

Long, long ago, in the days of goblins, ogres and witches and valiant knights there was a woman; a very strange woman I must say, who lived in the outskirts of the forest.

The valley folk knew something was very odd about the way this woman behaved; although they would not speak of it; not in words at least. They spoke about these things in their silence, and in the look that passed between them as they ate their sweet scones and drank their herbal teas.

They called her Andromeda... like the Andromeda Galaxy, but nobody knew for sure what her true name was.

I met Andromeda by pure coincidences, and if it wasn’t for the dim light shimmering from her cottage on a dark night in the woods, long, long ago, our paths would have never crossed...

I was happily collecting mushrooms in the forest, and as contemplative as I am didn’t realize how late it was already getting; nor how impending the gloomy night; or how the trees were starting to harbor within themselves dark strange shadows.

Only when nightfall plunked like heavy rain upon the forest I realized the danger; and where I was—trapped in the night forest!

As I walked alone down a path swathed in new shadows, I started trembling with fear. I wasn’t exactly scared of the little night creatures of the forest... I knew that when the sun goes down, all the night creatures would come out of their nests, dens and boroughs. Night time is their time to shine. They have adapted to living by the light of the moon and stars so that the cycle of life will continue from dusk until dawn... I wasn’t afraid of them.

I was more afraid of the inexplicable; the strange shadows that inhabit the woods and spirits that dwell in the space where past and present intersect...

What if I encounter a ghost? I remembered the chilling story share by candlelight on ghostly dark nights of two sisters who had wandered off into the woods and vanished. The village and the surrounding area were searched but no trace of them could be found. In the spring, a hunter far out in the marshes along Hollow Woods came upon their corpses. It was concluded that they had wandered off, became lost in the darkness, and died of exposure in the night... their weeping ghost were said to be seen wondering the woods in moonless nights. What if their ghosts decide to become visible today? And what if a witch would come out of the shrubbery?

As I rushed my way through the misty woods the leaves crunched under my feet adding new strange sounds around me. I knew I will be walking alone in chilly darkness soon, but as I hurried down the path swathed in a growing fog that, to me, seem to be enveloping the woods particularly fast, I suddenly spotted a shimmering light in the distance...

What is it? I thought, trying to concentrate my attention on the gleaming light. Tree branches swished in the wind, shadows mixing and merging and rushing as they waved back and froth...

The beam of light flickering through the trees was dimming under the increasing fog, but in spite of that it continued gleaming... ever so softly, intermittently gleaming through branches and trees’ limbs. It felt like a gentle voice calling me; a voice ever so softly calling my name... and it was so comforting, so soothing it was, that I found myself running towards the light, encouraged by it.

I was not surprised at all, or even scared, when I saw it: Winding through the thicket of bushes ahead of me, a clearing, and in the center of the clearing a small stone cottage; gray and ancient looking; wrapped in mystery and silence. A bluish haze of a light through a brake in the canopy cascaded down over it in such a way that it looked almost dreamlike. It made me think of a bride wrapped in her bride’s veil; serene, and lovely.

Entranced by this enchanted little cottage I approached it; dancing flames on the flickering candle that has guided me here, welcomed me.

I cannot describe the feeling, the warmth I felt, the sensation of wellbeing. I could feel the spells and magic fluttering in the wind around the little stone cottage as gentle whispers and night songs danced around my ears.

A lovely wraparound rose garden graced the little cottage. Several miniatures roses grew in borders and beds under and in front of the taller bushes. Colorful heaps of Sarabande grew in dramatic borders, and there was a fragrant old Damascena and a Climbing Dainty Bess growing against the white picket fence. Paradise and Color Magic sprouted out tall and beautiful, and masses of Dortmund seem to be singing sacred hymns to the night sky.

As I walked into this enchanted little cottage I noticed how beautifully roses grew here, although most probably the cottage itself stood dappled in shadows most of the day from the tall ancient trees surrounding it.

How can roses grow so beautifully in such place deep in the forest? I thought. But my thoughts were soon forgotten as Andromeda came out.

A flurry of soft light came forth like a gentle river flooding the space where I was standing, and wafting from the small and cozy kitchen of the stone cottage came the smell of cinnamon and the comfort of caramelized sugar. There was a mood of magic and a serene sensation to the room.

There was an old potting table brimming with aged clay pots filled with aromatic plants where I’m sure Andromeda spent time cutting herbs, potting new plants and just being inspired by her surroundings... and there were fragrant clippings in loose bundles of lavender, rosemary and thyme, and baskets filled with pinecones and drawers of fresh linen, and then there was the smell—the smell of home and hope, the kind of smell that cures people’s fear.

Andromeda was one of those people it was relaxing to be around. There aren’t very many of them, people with whom you can kick off your shoes, sit back and sort of sink into the ground. Like a garden out there, sunk and desuetude.

The villagers in Hollow Woods believed that Andromeda was a witch because, like so often happens with witches, beautiful mushrooms would grow in grassy areas wherever she would pass, and she could cast and brake spells and heal people too. They alleged that on nights of full moons crows would gather around Andromeda’s rose garden to watch her dance naked beneath the moon... but nobody could assert on these things for sure.

Only one thing was unquestionable about Andromeda: She loved Nature. She loved her rose garden, and had a special connection with the things she loved.

Andromeda could hear her roses talking; could hear them singing sacred hymns as they reached the sky and grew as tall as trees, and I am sure she had special powers over Nature. She could command rain and storms and butterflies and birds would fly to her hands whenever she would call—like pets. Butterflies and birds were her pets.

Only Andromeda could do these things. Only she could hear the mysterious songs of roses, for to nobody else was giving the gift of understanding Nature’s voice, as it hums and chants.

Hollow Woods at night

2011-08-09T10:46:00.001-07:00

I have to hurry… I can see the first shadows hovering over the forest’s floor; on the brink of the day they hang, they’re acquiring forms; strange mysterious shapes. Bird’s songs are but whispers; the vegetation withers. Nightfall is upon us… and I still have so much to do!

Picking up flowers to embellish my cottage is a priority… but I must hurry! I shall not wonder off any farther into the woods. The natural world has its unique way of surprising us, and at the moment least expected trees would start moving, you’d hear shadows talking among themselves in foreign languages... and I just don’t want to be here to see such occurrences happen.

You see, here in Hollow Woods things just don’t behave the way we’re use to; strange things would occur... strange people live here. After all, this is the home of eerie creatures, and peasants who seldom if ever travel far from their villages cannot conclusively say that it is impossible that a witch could live an hour away. Hence, there are things... things lurking in the dark; things best not be mentioned; and all I shall say to you is: Stay off the woods at the struck of dusk.

So I must hurry... Hollow Woods is a location beyond which people normally travel, but I have the feeling someone might be approaching behind the horizon... I know it!—a lost traveler. Perhaps, that traveler could be you?

A traveler lost in the deep forest... I can see her; feel her fear. I can see she’s tired and hungry, and I must get ready to offer shelter and food. Night is approaching.

As I collect the last of my flowers I’m wondering if this traveler loves the forest—the dark cover, the shifting shadows, the mysterious snaps and hoots, or if perhaps she’s afraid of the dark and her heart is heavy with fear and anxious thoughts of home and the honest, open plains of the south where you can see your enemies coming... which is why I find myself peering out at endless, shadowy trees of this most ancient forest—the forest of Hollow Woods…

I want to make sure the helpless traveler finds me here. They should know that hidden amidst the shadowy branches of this endless forest there is a refuge for their weary feet—my cottage; a place of safety, and comfort; a place of unadorned loveliness and garden flowers, and the smell of cinnamon wafting from the oven mingling with the warmth of home.

I want my little cottage to provide a warm and secure sanctuary for my visitors, and especially to those who might find themselves trapped in the woods at night... what an uplifting sight it’d be to find a softly illuminated cottage in such a sea of darkness—like a lighthouse amidst livid waters; a cottage safely hidden away from the dark unknown of the mysterious forest.

I’m thinking I’ll make her some buttermilk-cherry scones, and lemon-thyme bread, and I will make some exotic elixirs to accompany it—maybe some cinnamon spice punch with oranges and limes and some sparkling wine… I have every ingredient needed ready in my cozy little kitchen!

If one day you decide to come visit me in my little cottage in the woods, I shall be waiting for you too! We’ll bring out all the pretty things—the lovely china, the gorgeous tea set, hand-painted in vibrant colors for our midnight tea; little treasures to play with; colorful textiles, and the plush down comforters and loads of lavish pillows for the night...

Would you not come? Oh I hope you do! But first, let me give you some proper instructions on how to get here without getting lost. It would be a terrible thing to find your self lost like those unfortunate souls out there.

Coming down from Hollow Woods Village is easy. You would just cross the village to the other side, emerge from the stone bridge and continue along a wooded path. As the path starts to bend to the left there is a trail off to the right. This trail passes a large rock marker which indicates the location of a Mesolithic camp. Best not wander there too long, as it’s been say this place is hunted by many a ghost from the past... so keep going.

Soon you will find that this path ends with a very steep decent to Perdition Road. Avoid this road at all cost. And don’t take the path to the right, instead stay on the track and follow it round to the left, continuing until it joins Light Meadow. If at this point you decide you must return to Hollow Woods Village, you best do it then. The woods can turned into a real nightmare from that point on... but I must say, only the valiant would get to be transfixed by the beauty of the deep forest...

Tree pipits, nightjars, newts, and dragonflies will guide you to my cottage; where you’ll be safe. You can rest asured I'll be waiting for you!

Hope to see you here soon!

The night of the fairies...

2011-08-01T19:04:00.000-07:00

I slept in Hollow Woods last night... right at the stroke of midnight I heard a most strange sound—the sound of many wings. Then came a soft screech followed by the magical scent of the deep forest: a spicy pine scent combined with the perfume of oaks and moss and white violets.

When I finally opened my eyes, I saw it: a luminous white, shimmering apparition on golden wings fluttering around the open window of my little cottage.

“Alba!!... oh Alba”!!—I exclaimed, happy to see my beloved feathered friend, for I hadn’t seen Alba within the last full moon or two; her silky, plush wings, furry body, and mysterious face a lovely, ethereal vision to behold on a summer’s night.

Alba is a white owl from the woods of Hollow Woods, but some people in our village prefer to call her “Ghost Owl”. They believe she carries the soul of the dead in her yellow eyes, and insist on believing that she’s a dweller of both worlds...

Alba was happy to see me... as happy as I was; I’m sure. She fluttered about me; her head swiveling around and when those eyes met mine; they said to me: “I’m so glad to see you!”

Next thing I knew I was looking down at a lovely mossy spot deep down the forest’s path, where Alba had taken me… so this is where the fairies live!—the magic ring of Hollow Woods; I thought!

All around me fairies were sliding up and down from the tree tops to the mossy ground, on silver moonbeams… It was the most fantastic thing I had ever seen!

The fairies then brought out a lovely mirror; not an ordinary one, mind you, but a magic one, in which one had only to look to be able to see far away… very far away, indeed! And then, the strangest thing ever happened… I saw YOU! Yes yes I’m sure it was you… in your garden under the gypsy moon!

I knew right then and there how much you would love coming to Hollow Woods… we would have tea under a bright yellow moon and hang good wishes in the magical night sky. Shall I send Alba to guide you here?

Now, I will say to you: Go to your garden tonight and wait by the light of the moon for swirling whirling and fluttering wings, for this is the night a fairy shall appear to you.

Hope you’ll come!

Art: Angela Barnett

The storm

2011-07-08T19:28:00.001-07:00

Windy days are exciting; they’re magical! You would never know what strange new thing or adventure the wind will bring you. Swirling in his arms could be anything… dogs, cats, a new bicycle, tables and chairs, that fancy tea set you always wanted, ancient books… anything, even a house! Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz can surely attest to that! But what I truly love the most is when the wind brings showers of petals... rose petals to my garden. It's an enchanting thing!

What is it with rain and wind and roses that so captivate me!

You can imagine my excitement yesterday evening under the wind! So many roses to deadhead so many shrubs to prune, and then there was this mad wind blowing and groaning and swooping up petals and leaves and things from the garden’s floor. How exciting!

I really love storms, all that power and energy amazes me. But what was I thinking pruning roses under the storm? There must be something magical in Nature—a subtle magnetism that so pulls me. Yielding to it must be the natural thing to do, right?

And thus there I was immersed in roses when suddenly everything changed. A mad wind came out of nowhere roaring over roof tops sounding almost evil. Fast moving clouds crept in, darkness came instantaneously. The air was wild with rose petals and leaves and I heard the trees murmuring; more like a wailing, their heads bowing to the roaring storm. Yet, still I wouldn’t go inside; not yet. I was completely under the wind’s spell.

I stopped what I was doing and stood in silence for a few moments, pondering the ground beneath my feet, the darkening skies upon my head, the petal covered earth spinning slowly in its dark socket. It was magical and wonderful and I felt this nagging urge to paint the moment.

Of course, I’m not an artist, but my mind is, and it can paint vivid impressions in words, quickly. Thus, I started writing a first rough draft of what I was seeing in my mind... right there: a witch—pruning shears in hands, dark wild hair blowing in the wind; billows of black hoop skirts flowing in rose petal twirls. Above her head the air was thin and the darkness profound, wisps of tiny flowers floated all over around her, birds busied themselves to nests and protected places and little creatures under her feet scurried to burrows and hideaways.

I then noticed something very peculiar. She wasn’t walking, but more like gliding along the rose beds; moving without moving her feet. And this long hair she had! Then something unexpected: The witch lifted up her arms to the darkened sky, as if begging the Spirits of the Winds to aid her and whispered something I couldn’t understand—a jibber of some sort, but the wind seemed to understood for it picked up from below her and rumbled and grumbled throughout the garden lifting petals and all sort of debris in response. Then, she was gone. Just like that. Gone!

Sometimes I wonder if perhaps this is the sort of impression I may be sending off onto my neighbors when they get to look beyond their windows and all they get to see is this peculiar barefooted wild hair woman pruning storms under a darkened sky.

May your day be filled with blessings

and may you be happy and feverish with imagination and swirls of dreams

Fairy Day

2011-07-06T20:20:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite past-times ever is reading long-forgotten stories from the past, in old-forgotten books from the past.

It’s like magic to me—those ancient stories and ancient books are. They have the power to transport me far beyond horizons of blue, and far beyond rain and sunshine and time accumulated under white tumbling clouds...

It's like stepping into a fairytale sometimes, or out of a fairytale, and then realize that you are that princess of the story, or the heroine, or the orphaned child who was chosen by a powerful King to replace his vacillating and adamant queen.

One particular book is especially magical to me. It’s an old ancient book; as old as the world it is, and it has the ability to transport me to another world, or another realm if you may... Usually just flipping through the pages would do the trick.

Sometimes, the spell this book puts on me is so strong that I’d have to grab the grass before my body floats up... And there are other times when just holding it would do the magic, and I would let myself soar away on the wings of enchantment, like atop a magic carpet, drifting away into the sky... pass the trees and pass the houses below me and pass the white clouds and the wind... Where to this magical book would take me this time, I don’t know. I can only wonder and hope it would bring me back to the house in the roses in a flash... you see, I have a delivery to make—my end-of-the-month shipment of pansy-petal cakes, sunflower puddings and jellies and chive-blossom vinegars to the farmers’ market and to the gourmet grocery store, and can't be late! I simply don’t have any time to waste in bagatelles such as these! And who does! But can I tell you a little secret? The June solstice is here, and anything is permissible! Magic swirls in the air, butterflies and summer sun circle round us; we are one. And did you know that tomorrow is Fairy Day? It is a time to celebrate nature and our environment, and just shamelessly BE a fairy and ride in magic carpets!

Happy Fairy Day, my sweet dear fairies!

The Maiden and the Unicorn

2011-06-23T20:00:00.000-07:00

Fairies are winged people surrounded by a halo of light. Fairies reveal themselves only to certain people. Not everyone can see, or detect a fairy. Although their colorful wings are a in constant wafting–like a summer thunderstorm, like a great blue heron, like a flock of red-winged blackbirds— they cannot be seen by the ordinary eye; they’re invisible, and the halo of light in which fairies move, and dance, and live in, is perceivable by every creature in nature but humans. But did you know that fairies like to materialize into ordinary people? Ah yes they do!

A fairy can be found anywhere… you may find them strolling the streets of your town on a placid Sunday morning, at the park, at the mall, in church sitting in the pew next to you or at the most unexpected coffeehouse in your own hometown. You can always detect a fairy by her shoes, of course. They’re usually shiny black with a silvery pointy pirate toe; kind of a booty lace up shoes with 3 3/4 inch heels, although this is not always true.

Fairies are notorious for their love of home, good food, comfort, and security. Though fairies traditionally live in holes in the ground, they may also live in houses. The holes where they live are not dank and smelly as you would suppose they are, but they’re comfortable, cozy underground dwellings with all the amenities of a normal home and above ground counterparts. The hole occupied by the fairy in this particular fairytale welcomes you to her pleasant dwelling and thank you for your frequent visits and for your thoughtful comments. I’m delighted to see you coming back time after time to this humble space where I live to dream and dream to live. Thank YOU.

Happy Fairy Day!

SUMMER SOLSTICE

Longest day, shortest night, longest light, shortest dark... The world within echoes the world without, lush foliage, leaves unfurled, soft springy grass dotted with brightly colored flowers peeping through, the earth is green and bright with warm sunny days... clear velvety blue skies, gentle cool breezes, Nature in glory, our hopes blossom, creativity flowers with the season, the seeds of the fruit our desires will bear, can be seen on the stems of our dreams...

(Summer Solstice Poems - Poetry 2011)

A magical garden

2011-05-27T12:15:00.000-07:00

My garden is a very special place…

Small magical beings live here

My garden is my joy and refuge, and it is also my favorite place to relax, play and pick roses...

You would find me here on any given summer's day dreaming silly dreams on soft cool grasses under the trees...

Birds would fly down the trees to keep me company as I doze off into dreamland enchanted by their songs. Ah yes, the difference between common everyday living and wonderful magical living is the difference between being here, in the garden, and being somewhere else.

Anything can happen here; I mean anything magical. And it will! You would hear the angry voice of god in thunder, spirits would materialize in bubbling waters, owls would be the embodiment of wisdom, snow would be home to trolls and winter fairies, and if you would pay close attention to your surroundings you would hear voices speaking to you from stones, plants and animals. And all because of the contact with nature and the profound emotional energy that this symbolic connection supplies. But of course, you don't have to believe me if you don't want to...

This is also the place where magical things would appear out of nowhere, and the impossible would become possible... who would've thought that the Ivy could grow old silver pots amidst its dark mysterious leaves?

Or who would have guessed that bushes hide magical doors that would transport you to enchanting worlds outside your world?

Ah yes, the only inconvenience of having such a delightful magical door in your garden is not having the key to unlock it. Yes, I’ve lost the magical key to the magical door! And I am now desperately looking for it.

I have searched every imaginable place you can think of... my friends the rabbits have faithfully followed me everywhere trying to help me find it, but optimism is fading away fast.

You see, without this key I cannot go back to Hollow Woods ever again, and I won't be able to be transported to Arabella's world of mysteries and illicit love again... and as you can remember, I have a story to finish. So I must go back and learn as much as I can so that later I can come back and relate everything I'd seen...

Have you, by any change, seen this key anywhere in your garden? Hopefully, you’d know of some nice gnome or fairy in your garden that would be willing to come help find the key to my magical door? Oh I do hope so!

A troll by the name of Barbegazi lives here too. As some of you may know, snow trolls don’t never ever come out of their winter burrows deep down under the ground during warm weather. But because anything can happen here (and it would!), you may be lucky and find him strolling the gardens, proudly exhibiting his lovely Sedum Spurium hair, which by the way it has grown beautifully this spring!

My favorite above all my garden favorites would has to be the mysterious and ever so controversial “Lechuza”, or “Mochuelo”… the Gypsies call her "Ghost of the Nigh"—the owl, with its large eyes and mysterious ways. When I was a little girl growing up in a faraway land, I was terrified of them. Folks in our little rural community were very superstitious. They believed that the presence of an owl could only meant one thing: That a ghost was lurking nearby. Thus, Lechuzas were detested and much feared. Lechuzas were harbingers of death. Mothers and grandmothers would teach their children to hide from them, and fathers and grandfathers would lock every window and every door of their houses at the stroke of midnight to prevent bad luck from coming in whenever a Lechuza would cross the night sky.

My sister Lissette and I were never ever to look into a Lechuza’s unmovable large eyes or gargoyle-like face. And so, whenever they would fly low over the tin roof of our humble little house at night we would cover our ears and hide under our blankets trembling with fear. The eerie-sounding cries of the Lechuzas used to send shivers up our spines.

Isn’t it funny how we humans would outgrow our fears as we, through the years, learn, understand and get gradually exposed to the sources of our anxieties? Ah yes, I love owls, and I have them everywhere in my garden; only they’re not real ;)

I keep dreaming and hoping that one day I will see a beautiful owl perch high in our Spruce Pine... silly me an owl in my urban garden! Oh well, one can always dream, right?

The Pandora Box

2011-05-18T07:54:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard the story of the Pandora's Box? Long long ago while growing up in northern Spain, I discovered a Pandora Box hidden away in the attic of the abandoned chateau that had once belonged to my great-great grandmother Anastasia, which in turn, had belong to her own great grandmother, the intriguing Arabella Countess of Aragon.

It was the most fascinating little box I had ever seen, made of pearl on the outside and an assortment of fabrics and tulle and some other rare materials on the inside. This beloved box had once belonged to Arabella Countess of Aragon, and it was as intriguing and bewitching as Arabella herself had once been.

I like to call this very special box a “Pandora Box” for what it means and what it represents, but of course, it really is just a Writing Box...

Back in the days of Arabella Countess of Aragon, back in 1750, a portable desk in the form of a box—hence a Writing Box, was a very important and necessary item. A Writing Box could be used on a table or on one's lap, and through it both business and personal activity were transacted. Arabella would use her Writing Box to sign contracts, letters and postcards were written on its sloping surface, but later her Writing Box became an elaborate piece of craftsmanship—a marvelous confection made by Arabella herself, where she would hide the strangest of personal things. Thus, her Writing Box became a Secret Box; her confidant and keeper of her most inner desires and clandestine possessions.

Opening Arabella’s Pandora Box was like breathing magic into my childhood... a wisp of air came wafting straight out of the box the very minute I opened it, it smelled of lavender and peppermint and I clearly remember feeling as if I just had walked into a Christmas memory that didn’t belong to me and yet, it was all mine in a mysterious and inexplicable way.

There was a mood of magic in the room and I could see Arabella’s scent lingering in the air like kite tails. Whatever secrets or message had been hidden in her secret box now needed some way out... and I was there to find out. It was as if Arabella herself was standing beside me making sure I knew... knew all her secrets. So strong her presence was.

There were some old coins in Arabella’s box, and there were some tattered jewelry oxidized with time and a yellowish land contract in onion skin paper, and there was an old and very peculiar crucifix along with an old daguerreotype of the passionate and fearless Arabella Countess of Aragon.

All of a sudden the room got very quiet and I was sure I heard Arabella saying: "Prepare yourself, my dearest Cielo, for a delightful surprise". And how true! You see, I was about to yet uncover another treasure... tucked away under the aged lining of the old box a real treasure was waiting! My hands moved rapidly through the box, my mind looking for clues...

Until I saw them: Arabella’s famous love letters; those my mother and her sisters and mothers before them would always talked about in hush voices.

The love letters were from Arabella and her lover; a very mysterious man who, sometimes at the end of his letters would curiously sign as “Your Majesty, the King”. Under the lining of Arabella’s box, I also found an ancient medallion, which I’m now positive it’d belonged to that certain King. The strange medallion had an unusual inscription in it and an emblem on it pertaining to royal dynasty.

Its regal look reminded me of royal tapestries and carvings, and I could picture kings and queens using them as royal gifts for their courts. Some of the love letters where written and signed by Arabella herself... “heme determinado ante ti como una página escrita y borrada mil veces...”—read one of her letters. If you click on Arabella’s letter you can read the rest of it, or at least most of it, but that’s just if you dare snoop into her very dark past!

Indeed, the strange Arabella had a very dark past, and I can attest to that because among the things tucked away in her box I also found this bizarre “Wanted Sign” you see here... the sign had been tucked away among the few things Arabella was able to keep to the end of her days, and you could tell that someone had folded it almost reverently, as if it was some sacred totem needed to be forgotten or perhaps eternally remembered.

Arabella was wanted by the authorities of her time, and it had something to do with her lover being who he was and the way they both carried their ‘illicit’ love against all odds. It was taboo—that love was. But you must forgive me for ending Arabella’s story so abruptly here. You see, time is running out on me and I must part as soon as possible... I have a flight to catch—a carpet ride, that is! Ah yes, the magic carpet of Tangu (also called Prince Housain's carpet for those of you not acquainted with the story), has been parked in my garden for the last three days, and I cannot, or rather not, make it wait any longer, as this is a rather moody carpet, you know! But I promise I’ll share with you the rest of Arabella’s story real soon.

Have you ever ride on a magic carpet? Magic carpets are used to instantaneously travel throughout Heaven and it is a wonderful alternative to broomstick. The story goes that as soon as Solomon sat upon his magic carpet he was caught up by the wind, and sailed through the air so quickly that he breakfasted at Damascus and supped in Media. So I expect to get to wherever the magic carpet is taking me in no time at all! OK, I'm ready now!

Off I go! See you soooon!

Mermaid

2011-05-05T11:28:00.000-07:00

Just as there are birds in Hollow Woods there are mermaids in its lakes. As I was walking along the side of the water late one evening, I saw something, or someone walking on the water... I couldn’t figure out with certainly what I just seen, because the breezes from the nearby clearing had brought in a thick mist that had settled over the curling waters like a blanket of cotton, and the sun setting behind the forest was already turning the green waters into pitch black. But the creature saw me, and swam to a nearby rock.

You can imagine my astonishment at beholding, just at the foot of that rock, this sort of aquatic creature with a female human head and torso and the tail of a fish. Oblivious to my presence, she started combing her hair, which was the color of green waters touched by the last light. At a first glance I thought there were twinkling stars on her hair, but then I realized it was just the salt water shining on it. So magically beautiful it was. This creature didn’t seem to mind my proximity, but after a moment, which seemed an eternity to me, she finally looked up at me and disappeared into the darkening waters... I run to the mossy rock and bent down my head to look down at the water at the foot of the rock... and ah yes there she was—a breath of wind rippling the waters...

The spring garden...

2011-04-25T12:46:00.000-07:00

She’d already had far too much reality. She’s been waiting for this moment for a long long time, and now the fairies are making sure she understand the time had finally come…

They have sprinkled the garden with fairy dust just for her, and they have scattered charms of apple blossoms pink just for her, and the sparrows have returned to the flowering pear tree... and so, it is time…

Summoned by the fairies, the girl follows the paths to the garden—light jacket, old garden boots, wild hair, billowy breezes dancing in the hem of her skirt…

She hears the cheerful giggles of fairies and wonders what’s going on...

When finally the fairies removed the silky cloth they had tied around her eyes, she could not believe what she was seeing!

The grass had finally shed its blanket of chilly white, tulips were popping out of the ground everywhere and her little world was now decked in light green leaves and flower buds in colors like a rainbow bursting in the air...

Soft sunshine dappled through the trees as the smell of sweetness danced from and around the trees, and above, mourning doves serenaded the skies as they busied themselves in preparation of new nests. She gasped and whirled around; her heart bursting with happiness. "Was that even possible?" Ah yes, spring has finally arrived to her little world!

Spring had weaved a lovely magical shawl for her to wrap herself with, and from now on until the wheels of time bring new seasons once again, she will wear it and live in it as one with herself...

And so, this is how her life fairytale begins… This is back to the garden, back to Nature, back to life...

The haunted garden

2011-04-22T08:06:00.000-07:00

Mystery surely flutters around delicious October! October is a bird carrying on its mellow wings secrecy and all sorts of mysteries, it sings and breaths little things in my ear as he rustles through the grass... Ah yes, October is the most mysterious of month ever! And I can attest to that because I was born in October! But of course, silly me, that’s not exactly the type of mystery I’m referring to! It’s the garden... some people think it’s haunted!

It was especially creepy this evening during my daily walk at dusk.

There was something lurking in the underbrush I’m sure, and dangling from the branches of the crabapple tree I saw the most disturbing of things ever... a hanged man! Of course, it was just a Halloween dummy made of old clothes stuffed with straw that perhaps some weird kid from the neighborhood had left there the day before, but either way you can imagine how startled I was by it!

More disturbing things kept happening that evening. The strangest of mist started to creep in, and an unsettling flutter of wings was heard in the otherwise quieted garden. When I turned around I thought I saw the creepiest of image across the water in the birdbath.

A face... I’m sure it was a face!—a mystifying face like those faces you see in ghost stories and books and movies of the sort! Oh the eeriness! Oh the creepiness of the moment and disturbing atmosphere! As you can imagine, I quickly collected my skirts and run back home as fast as I could...

Running... running.... tumbling over the flowers, down the empty ivy path I went... through the bushes, through the maple trees, through the gates... Until I was finally safe in the comfort of my home. As you would expect, sleep would not come to me easily that night. The moon shone in my window and slanted across my bed, and a night breeze brought the smell of roses and honeysuckle into the room. Outside, leaves rustled, but I didn’t hear anything else. No goblins’ voices, no ghostly sobbing, no strange cat meowing... just the sound of the night breezes in the garden.

Slowly I finally drifted off to sleep, but much later I woke up again. The house was silent, and my cat Morning was crouched on the windowsill at the foot of his bed. His body was tense, his ears cocked forward, and his tail lashed back and forth furiously. As I sat up, I heard him growl softly, not at me but at something outside.

Cautiously, I peeked out the window. At first I saw nothing but the moonlight whitening the grass and blackening the shadows...

Then something moved near the garden, and Morning growled again... It was a white cat! He was creeping along the edge of a shadow, but while I watched, he paused and looked up at my window. The moonlight reflected in his eyes, making them two silver disks. When he meowed softly, Morning lunged against the screen, tearing at the wire with his claws and growling.

Grabbing my cat, I pulled him away from the window, but he writhed free and disappeared under the bed, still growling... as Morning vanished, I looked fearfully outside. The white cat was gone, but the scraggly bushes moved with the breeze and the shadows they cast swayed on the grass... the sweet smell of roses filled my room, and I shivered as a gust of wind blew over me. Then, as if it wasn’t creepy enough, things got even creepier! I heard something in the darkness outside. It wasn’t the breeze in the leaves or a cat meowing or a night bird calling; it was unmistakably the sound of a child crying... Truly afraid, I fought against a strong urge to scream, or run away. As if he sensed my feelings, Morning came out from his hiding place. Purring in my ear, he curled up on my pillow until finally the two of us fell asleep together... The whole thing was creepy, so very creepy, indeed! But that was last night! Now the warmest of sun has return to the land vanishing all shadows of fear! Bathed in wonderful morning sunlight, the garden has lost its sinister quality, and I find myself delighting again in the shady center of my little hide out.

I wouldn’t be scared away by a white cat anyway… would you? Of course not! Especially on a day like today, when I’m having the most delightful time celebrating the enchantment of October with tea and friends and visitors from all over the world.

If you haven't heard of it yet, there is a party soon to start at Frosted Petunias. Oh, it promises to be pure magic underneath the full Halloween moon! And I surely would not want to miss it! So with that said, I am going to change into my little witchy self and head over there right now! You're welcome to fly with me in my broom if you like, but don’t delay, dark is almost upon us, the night garden boast a magic all of its own, a magic that must be shared only at our party, so hurry!

"Double, double, toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble."

Winter

2011-04-09T19:51:00.000-07:00

Summer fairies fear winter. Summer fairies are delicate creatures engage in a constant search for sunshine and sunshiny places. They need warmth as a mean of survival, their bodies are formed by a combination of light and clay that has been warmed by the sun, and memories of the earth live within them. Summer fairies carry a longing which is not our own. They dwell in stillness and silence that comes to them as a gift from the sun. Freedom from strife is breed within them; it conform their ancient life. But fairies need the sun to subsist, and thus when they're left behind to wander away from the sun, they start to die inside. Fairies who live in this winter wonderland are never happy. When frigid winds cloak the land, and the luminous landscapes of our valley and beyond our valley paint themselves white, fairies that are left behind are overcome with fears. It's hard to survive. Only the miracle of sunshine could enliven their old soul.

I know of a fairy who silently cries for the sun during the dark long winter months. But over the years she has come to know that we all have our own ground to work, and must accept it, even if it is right on the edge of ourselves. At the cliff edge of our life. That's the edge she must go to. Make peace with that edge no matter how frightening it seems. Look down over that edge... and befriend it. She knows that in order to survive she must accept things as they are and find beauty even in the harsh winter landscape, so she can repair and heal her damaged belonging and come into unity with the divine.

It takes a long time to learn one’s own place in life, and summer fairies must learn to love the natural rhythms and cycles because their lives and livelihood depended on them.

The white pumpkin

2011-04-05T07:21:00.000-07:00

Dusk creeps across a clearing in the woods. Spring peepers sing in a nearby pond, and Venus twinkles overhead. Suddenly, a large dark shape glides above me, momentarily blotting out a piece of sky…

It’s a Great Hornet Owl! The king of nocturnal raptors soars on silent wings, then settles atop a towering evergreen. Dusk deepens into dark and turns this imposing owl and his perch into silhouettes… Shadowed by a silvery moon, I keep walking. The night is full of light and magic. Crickets and night bird calls shiver the air, and I can hear the ancient trees whispering mysterious words to the air. The white moonlight unrolled a magic blanket of shadows over the wood's floor and I saw my silhouette dancing… it made me laugh and want to dance some more. I then stept into the darkness and continue to skip through the forest until, all of a sudden, I caught a reflection in the shadows... Who's there? Can you hear me? The breezes had suddenly died, and the crickets and night birds had felt silent. The creatures of the night were coming out, I was sure. After all, this was All Hallows Eve, which means, it's time to believe in the things that aren't there!

Halloween is also the beginning of the Celtic new year, a time to give thanks to the sun god for the harvest, and as I walk for miles among thorny bushes and thick underbrush looking for the magic pumpkin, I can see the glimmering lights flickering over the marsh… surely, the villagers are practicing their fire rites. The villagers of the Hollow believe that fire rejuvenate the waning sun and aid in banishing evil spirits. Ghosts and witches feared fire, and so fire has become their best weapon against evil spirits. Witchcraft and witches, whenever found, are punished by burning at the stake, fire being used as a mean of purification. So, I need to be very careful less I’d be mistaken by a witch and thrown into their fires… I turn away from the flickering lights and dash through the dark searching for the magic pumpkin; tall grasses and giant ancient trees playing hide and seek with the moon...

I’m hoping to avoid an encounter with the wicket Griselda, the witch known to own these parts of the wood, but she could be close... very close!

Before coming here, I researched the Ancient Book, and oh yes, the magical book says that witches who worship the deities of nature, have living talismans or symbols through which they derive their dark powers… they invoke evil spirits to enter the bodies of their talismans. Some have dogs, owls, snakes or swine for their talismans, but the most common are cats. But I don’t see any cats around here… do you see any cat? Here Kitty Kitty! Oh dear me, what's poor Morning doing there? Over there! Can you see him? Oh I hope it's just my imagination! You see, the unknown lurks in every forest, the woods have always been a place of mystery; a place where danger and the unknown lurk in the thick dark… and wandering into it can only lead to adventure and the unexpected. Come to think about it now, that old owl perched high up in the tall pine could be a witch… Oh yes dear me, it could be the wickedest of all wickets Griselda! All of the sudden it got cold and quite eerie… I need to hide! Better yet... run! So I do! The uneven surface making me dizzy, I'm tripping and stumbling over rocks and tree roots...

I run across an opening among the bushes until I saw it.... Oh yes, something is glowing in the dark amidst the bushes! Could it be the magic pumpkin? I run towards the shinny object, and indeed, it is the white magic pumpkin!

The howling wind sings, the autumn moon shines, and my eyes are playing tricks... can I trust my eyes? After I cleaned the magic pumpkin, I placed it in my basket and started down the mucky trail back to my little house in the roses...

...autumn leaves clinging to my shoes as I walk along. The woods are silent, and as I walk I can hear the leaves rustling above my heads. I could hear them whispering—they were whispering about magic and good deeds and how when we give and share our love, we are blessed in so many different ways in return.

I continue to march on, the silvery moon and mystery of the woods warming me inside and out. No witch could have even broken the sweet spell of gratitude that swirl inside me… I am almost reaching the outskirts of the woods, very close now to my little house in the roses, but before I get there I need to take a brief pause to thank the fairy who had so graciously sent me this precious gift…. Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it. So here it goes: Thank you Sandra for your beautiful gift!

I just love this lovely pumpkin… don’t you!

Ps: I've met Sandra through blogging, she is one of my faithful readers and a cancer survivor with a strong faith in God. When we write in our blogs, we touch other’s life with tenderness by sharing our personal world and what we have, and in return, others fill our cup with their lives and love… we share dreams, laughter and sorrows beyond the starts above, and our readers, in return, share their love in so many forms and ways… Like many of us, Sandra shares a deep love for her home and everything that's lovely. Please go visit Sandra and tell her I sent you! I'm sure she'll guide you to the woods, where you'll find your own magical pumpkin.

Happy Halloween every one!

The cast and photograph source:

The pumpkin girl: Cielo

The magic pumpkin: Autumn gift from Sandra – The Veranda House

The enchanted forest: My garden at dusk

The Witch Griselda: Cielo in long black witch wig

The Great Hornet Owl: a garden ornament in my garden

The Cat: My furry friend, Morning

The villagers and fire pit: Summer campout with our church… rusting marshmallows and singing songs under the moon…. I’m there somewhere among the shadows. Can you not see me? ;)

La Llorona

2011-03-29T08:00:00.000-07:00

One of the things I like best about Hollow Woods is to be able to discover delightful and magical paths to fairytale places... would you like to come with me? Ok then. Follow me in this dreamy little summer voyage!

First off, close your eyes.... then open them again. A bright summer day, a silent country road, the crisp morning air, a sapphire blue sky, the clouds so white...

As I walk, I'm thinking how truly insignificant mankind is compared to all the beauty and mysteries and complex simplicity of the natural world...

Graceful birds are flying above, and above the perfectly painted tree line...

Nature is filled with amazing and magnificent trees... trees of old, silent as ghost!

I walk mystified by the strange scent wafting down the air like a phantom perfume. My eyes search this natural garden in an elusive attempt to discover its source. From just what flower does this perfume comes? It is elusive and haunting and wonderfully sweet... Then, all of the sudden I see it! In the far distance... can you see it too? A house... a very mysterious house!

You see, we have reached the mysterious domains of the weeping ghost of “La Llorona”.

Legend has it that “La Llorona” (weeping woman) killed her children to be with her lover and was subsequently rejected by him. She killed herself out of love and was then doomed to wander the earth in search of her children. If you encounter her, you would never forget her.... never forget her weeping persona; nor forget her eerie wailings... according to the tale, she’s known to kidnap wandering children... Oh I’m so glad we didn’t bring our little ones with us to this eerie place!

Are you scared yet? Well, then... let's take a peek inside the Llorona’s house!

It’s been said that through the luminous windows of this house wanderers who come here can see spirits moving pleasingly through the empty halls… Do you see what I see? Do you feel what I feel? I feel the sparkles and flurries of enchantment swirling around... Do you hear what I hear? Low music coming from inside. Sounds of creaking doors and footsteps.... wails of sound of some unearthly existence?

See the gorgeous window? See the diamond crystals in the blue sky, the bright flashes of emerald light and golden glints of sunlight? I see the towering walls covered in ivy... I hear tinkling sounds of summertime!

And balconies swathed in lovely hydrangeas...

Could have been here in this time-worn bench where the unlawful lovers sat every evening? I dunno!

Around the house, a lovely vision... in the heartland of low green fields and old stone walls... can you see "La Llorona" behind the stained glass windows staring out at the garden with a heavy heart?

More stone walls covered in ivy... ancient; mysterious.

Is the knob turning? Is it a sigh that we hear? What is that moaning that is coming from the houses rear?

Most kids in town fear that house. No one goes near it, not even a mouse. It’s called The Kingdom of "La Llorona", the home of all the Remaining Souls... But I prefer to call it a lovely home! Ps: Hi everyone! This place is real. This is actually the V. Sattui Winery, located in St. Helena, the heart of California's famous Napa Valley, which my husband and I visited a year ago. The landscape, lush valleys, mountains, vineyards, Cyprus and olive trees fields are as close as you can get to Provence without having to fly there. Truly a lovely paradise!

Hope you enjoyed our little ‘creepy’ trip!

The witch of Hollow Woods

2011-03-28T20:00:00.000-07:00

Here in Hollow Village it always seems to be raining, whatever the season--hence the umbrella! What another treat this day brings, the wonderful thing about living in Hollow Village is that every day is a magical day; I open my eyes and have no idea what I’m going to find in the garden...

Indeed, this is a mysterious but beautiful village, with large and imposing silent houses, with lawns full of fragrant flowers and white marble fountains from where water dances and sings as if enchanted by the sun’s golden rays. Here in Hollow Village, the women wake up each morning enwrapped in an unknown joyfulness, and the stars of the previous night would be mirrored for a while in their eyes...

When I get this excited about these things the thrill I feel gets into my fingers, which usually proceed to write two or three sheets that later would be sent to a cottage set deep in the woods via old Harry the mailman, who would go sauntering and trembling in search of her—my friend, the witch of Hollow Wood!

Her name is a mystery, for no body knows what her real name is... and I am sure it was fate what brought me to her one day during the summer. Strolling through the narrow streets of our little village I was when all of a sudden I heard a voice—“come to the woods”, it said. And so I kept walking...

I walk past the news stand and the butcher’s shop, past the chemist and the greengrocers, and then walked onwards to the deep dark woods… There is something about the deep wood that enthralls me; I'm fascinated by its mystery, its lushness and mysterious sounds of its darkness. Absorbed with the way light interacted with the surroundings, shaping things by reflecting and absorbing; causing dazzling brightness and mysterious silhouettes, I soon lost track of time.

Mystified by my surroundings, I followed the path forgetting I was getting deeper and deeper into the forest; its green path padded with fallen leaves, the webs studded with spiders, the greens dark and subtle, the trees craggy and fuzzed. As I walked further the canopy above me grew thicker, and the way grew darker... I walked through a thicket of bushes that had grown up between the conifers, and suddenly I found myself in a clearing.

In the center of the clearing stood an old and lovely stone cottage. It was swathed in roses that grew under the boughs in a small thicket along with blue bead lilies, dog tooth violets and other rare treasures that love the deep shade of the forest floor... I had once heard someone saying that spring flowers bloom in a witch's garden even as all the leaves begin to fall, so you can imagine how frighten I was by this mystery of roses growing in the shade!

Old and beautiful that cottage was. Sunshine cascaded down over the forest through a break in the canopy in a dreamlike way. I had never seen that cottage before, but although something told me I should run way from that place, I couldn't move. So mesmerized I was with my surroundings. By now the place was looking decidedly eerie in the half-light of the forest, yet I was so attracted to it my heart ached. Suddenly the earth turned quiet. A shadow moved, and I knew that something had to have caused that shadow. Then, there she was...

Mysterious as a silvery moon, hair as black as ravens and for sure a woman not like any other in the village. I could smell flowers in the air around her as she moved closer, and then all of a sudden I realized that I knew who she was, and I remembered that the villagers believed her to be a witch because, like witches so often do, she was known to create the most beautiful circles of mushrooms in grassy fields. She was said to be clairvoyant and that people would seek her services as a seer and healer. She was known to visit a holy well where she tied charms taken from the sick. This would decay and was suppose to heal the person in a magical way. The villagers also believed she lead a secrecy life because long ago she was accused of bewitching King Henry VIII of England. But nobody knew for sure...

She invited me to tea and I say "yes, thank you!". Inside the little cottage gypsy firelight illuminated ancient herbs and potions waiting to be brewed. Her sweet tea made me feel drowsy and strange. It was as though the stars had come down and were swimming inside my head, making everything tingle. It was magical and good! And from that day on we’ve been friends. She has taught me many things, among all others, to find peace within myself, to listen to silence and no matter what people would say, or do, to grab a hold of my inner fantasies and own them. And so, as I sit here writing my letters to her I'm thinking about how much of a kindred spirit we both are...

Astonishment and enchantment alone cannot start to describe how much of the same interest we share... We're kindred spirits—so much like the weaver's heart is attuned to sing to the accompaniment of his whirring loom, in grateful unison with every voice in heaven and earth.

Perhaps because I live in this enchanted village called the Hollow is why magic has always fascinated me... nothing can stop my wanderings in the woods of imagination; not even rain... not even these Northern Hemisphere skies laden with fog and rain-washed air. And so, down the path I go... the February grass whispers and waves, more gray than yellow...

A day in the woods

2011-03-16T12:00:00.000-07:00

Magic has always fascinated me... but not just any kind of magic. I’m talking about stories woven in the threads of myths and legends of various cultures around the world that contain elements of nature in them... especially the woods.

Perhaps my fascination with the woods comes from sensing in their darkness and, sometimes inhuman uniqueness suggestions of our precarious existence. Or perhaps it is the mysteries the forest hides in itself, or the trees standing undaunted, permanently providing shelter and visions of mysterious forms and exotic sounds and rare birds, and children lost in the thickets stumbling into the hands of evil witches...

I suppose I’m also drawn by the mystery found in the woods because I enjoy the use of the imagination. And so, whenever I go to the forest I set out to weave my stories... stories that go back to the old good days of childhood living in a far faraway country in a far faraway land where woods and its mysteries were an intricate part of our heritage.

As a child living in the Hollow I would ride on my father’s cart to Hollow Market. Yawning, I would nestle among the sheepskins; the eggs and milk, still warm, beside me. The back of the cart would carry the animals we took to sell. Such was our way of life. Childhood passed slowly, and life was carefree and wonderful. I used to love those early Saturday morning rides to the Market. Only one thing troubled me: Having to cross the dark mysterious woods! For as much as I loved the woods (and still do), crossing the terrible “Culhollow” could only mean bizarre encounters amidst distorted bushes and cramped, twisted knotted by time old trees. Their mossy limbs, low spread, served as home for pixies and ghosts of all sorts.

Just the mention of it still makes me shiver: “Culhollow”; that forbidden place. A land of sacred oak groves, druidical temples, and places of deep mystery... but there was no other way to town back then. To reach the Hollows it was necessary to enter that fearsome land of deep flora and ghosts a plenty... you headed north, out of the village, pass the cottages onto the slate-covered descent, and followed down into the woods...

On the south side, you’d find a spring of the clearest and the purest water. It bursts from beneath a rock, and, like most of the blessings found in The Hollows (whether we avail ourselves of them or not) it still pours its limpid fountain in fruitful abundance...

This river nourishes a thousand beautiful mosses and wild flowers that still today carpet the woods...

But for millennia these dense, mystical woodland has been held in awe and for much fear. Many villagers described it as being the most haunted place on earth, others warn that every space, tree and gnarly root is filled with merciless pixies and goblins who steal their young and hide them amidst the moss and leaf strewn tree roots. Locals will never venture near once the sun begins it slow descent over the land, for it was when the dark mantle of night drew tight that the heinous denizens of the wood stalked its paths in search of their human victims.

After a while we would reach a waterfall, where two weeping willows grew, each entwined with the other. No tree had ever grown there before, and now two weeping willows grew, trailing their leaves in the water, as though reaching after something they both had lost...

I knew the place as “The infamous lovers”, because of an illegal love affair between a beautiful maiden called Lady Adelaide and a married man... both were drastically killed by very pious and furious villagers in that same place, which it is call something different now. Lover’s Fall, they call it, the young folk. This place is only visited by the young, now. The old never do, and if they have to pass by it they make sure to make haste, and feel something cold, like a shiver. And they only glance at the mysterious willow growing there; a passing glance that says everything they need to say, and nothing more... They knew that the ghost of Lady Adelaide was known for visiting the place, and some even assured having listen to her very sad song of love, by the feet of the mysterious willows...

So you can imagine my fears as a youngster when crossing that part of the woods. The day I told my father that I’d seen the ghost of Lady Adelaide wondering the woods he laughed so hard he cried. “Folk stories”—he said with a click of his tongue, but I could see in his eyes certain hidden fear.... it was true; each of my words beard only truth; just as I’m telling you now. Truth as it is written and spoken...

The ghost of Lady Adeline wasn’t crying or seemed sad... in fact, she was glowing as she danced among the old giant trees and picked wild flowers that she would then graciously place in her hair and the folds of her dress...

That was the day when I decided I should never again be afraid of the dark mysterious woods... The Culhollow, they call it. You would never again fear walking into that tangled web of trees if you were among the few lucky souls who came across Lady Adelaide’s ghost. I was transported into a mystical world of moss carpeted boulders, lichens of all descript, finger like oak branches, all engulfed in a wonderful smell of earth and age. That's how wonderful and enchanted it was. Unfortunately, all of a sudden she looked back and saw me...

Magic was broken in a flutter of thousand butterflies as she run away...

I remember seeing her floating atop the foliage and mossy limbs. At one point, as if she knew I was watching her, she stood and turned. I saw her led a smile that spoke volumes when only silence was needed. Then she vanished... like a streak of cinnamon light into the depths of the wood.

THE END!

At dusk

2011-03-15T12:57:00.000-07:00

At dusk, in the garden, I drift among the roots and dry leaves; collecting moments...

Winter, dry soil, lonely garden, naked bushes and bare branches. Then, suddenly, night. Shadows dance under a silvery full moon.

Darkness veils the night, across the shadows, creatures keep a vigil; as if inviting the moon to come down and join the spell...

Every nook and corner by the cold white light of a full moon is beaming with mystery and enchantment...

I look around me; my eyes searching the unknown...

There is a strange weird beauty, a beauty which reminds me of a place I’d never seem, but vividly lives in the recollection of dreams and hunted places inside my imagination.

Frozen roses move under the spell of the moon. They have eyes and teeny tiny mouths. Sometimes their mouths open, showing rows of bright buttercup teeth. They're singing lullabies to the moon, or maybe they're just trying to warn me that something is out there, something sinister lurking in the moonlight as it watches me silently...

I hear the voice of darkness... the boundless, endless voice of the terrifying darkness that surrounds the poor lost souls... I stand amidst the garden catching the wind in my hair, blowing darkness away... a witch enchanted by the moon.

I’m shivering; naked skin in the chilled breeze... but then I see it: a house the color of mustard. Thereby comes the comfort of home as place, and comfort of home as inner residence and peace.

I think I should go inside now.

A winter's spell

2011-03-11T11:15:00.000-08:00

It’s been snowing here all week; big round flakes are falling down the sky in patterns without a sequence. Snow covered trees and bare branches shiver, like visions of ghosts in the solitary garden. Flakes drift against the window pane, cling there, trembling as the wind threatens to send them swirling away again. If I push my face against the window and cover both sides of my face with my hands, I can see beyond what’s in front of me... beyond the blurry vision of the snowy garden.

Over there, from below the horizon, a figure forms. Someone’s approaching...

I have this feeling I already know who she is. I can tell by the way she moves and the way she carries herself in a quiet aloofness.

Pale Witch—they call her, the young folk of Hollow Village. I like to call her something else, although I haven’t figure out what yet.

You see, if I close my eyes I can still see her. Truth is I haven’t been able to forget her. My recollections of her will live in my mind forever like a sacred enigma. Perhaps she was there to teach me something about the ways we interpret legends and people? Oh I’m not dreaming! In fact, I’m almost certain I saw a witch—a real witch if you may, early this year at our local Home Depot! It happened on a frosty day in late March, and my countless visits to our local Home Depot breeze-freeze isles were characteristically normal. I was itching for spring and for the contact with the warm earth, and soil and Nature... and thus, I expected to be the only one there, as most of the time I was... but on this occasion I wasn’t alone.

Small, aloof and as if detached from this world, she was smelling the few pots of herbs and cool-season flowers already there... she was wearing a long denim skirt and tennis shoes, and the huge backpack on her back forced her to walk with a hump (or was it already there?). Her head and most of her face were covered with the hood of a brown parka, which gave the impression of a hooded medieval monk priestess... I followed her around from a close distance, as if enchanted by her presence. Hypnotized under the cold morning air, I walked drinking in every detail about her physiognomy—every thing that made her so unique and captivating at the same time. She was always looking down, so it was hard to see her full countenance, but I could tell that she had a yellowish pale skin and eyes absent of eyebrows...

Perhaps she was ill? Perhaps she had this rare condition that alienated her from the rest of us, or just maybe my stereotypic thinking was overly simplistic and inaccurate because variability exists, and because simple explanations are way too often offered for what in fact are complex phenomena.... but really what fascinated me was more the internal that the external. Her detachment from this world and uniqueness hypnotized me and trickled my over-fertile imagination... She so pleased my inner fantasist! Just looking at her transported me to a forest, a mysterious forest inhabited by mysterious creatures; a place of testing and a realm of mysteries holding the secrets of nature, which humans must penetrate to find meaning.

Who was she? Where has she come from and where did she live?—perhaps in the in heart of the woods where I so often drift in imagination?

I don’t know, and I guess I would never know. Some things are inexplicable and better not explained.

"Obsessed by a fairy tale, we spend our lives searching for a magic door

and a lost kingdom of peace."

(Eugene O'Neill)

Trapped

2011-02-24T10:19:00.001-08:00

Do you sometimes wish you could be somewhere else, or trade your day to day sights and sounds for something else? Sure, I have a good life, but sometimes I need to escape—hitch a ride on Harry Potter's magical broom, or click my ruby slippers three times until I'm taken away...

When I was a little girl one of my favorite pastimes ever was dreaming awake. I would run to an imaginary attic and find the old forgotten wardrobe. Like the children in the Chronicles of Narnia, I would then open the magical doors and creep beyond the wardrobe into the most fascinating forest ever! There would be a lantern waiting for me to cast shadows and guide me through the lush woodland paths and rows and rows of brilliant flower crops. A faun that spoke my language would always invited me over to the loveliest of little house to join him for tea.

Where would you run to if you could? I know where I would run to!

Happiness in my veins...

Joy in my feet...

Wings in my back, laughter in my toes...

Do we need to stop dreaming just because we are now grown-ups? We stop exploring, we stop asking questions, we don’t laugh as often. We’ve become grown-ups! Why, just because we're grown-ups do we need to be insulated from daydreaming or enjoying life as passionately and innocently and openhearted and pure as a child?

That’s why I'd never ever stop dreaming... That's why I really need spring to come. Magic doesn’t happen without the shelter of flowers and trees in the garden, you know. Without them, you’d loose your way to the secret garden. The landscape is always flat and uninteresting; bleak with winter’s wrath and you can’t find the door to the secret garden; nor tumble with Alice through the hole into Wonderland...

That’s why I also love to come here--to Hollow Woods! I can always dream as freely as I want (or need to) here! If you ever get lonely or don’t like what you see around you, you can come here too. You might find me here among the trees if you look hard, resting in the shade of the trees, watching you as you struggle up the hill, gazing as you go on towards your own imaginary woods and wondering if you would see me. Don't ever stop dreaming. Live every moment with hope! Never give up! Chase the impossible! Love with abandon! Always

A Halloween fairytale

2011-01-03T12:51:00.000-08:00

Outside, a cold wind is howling,

Make some tea

Get cozy

The storyteller will show you the way...

Set the spirits flying, carve the pumpkins, light the candles, then come sit a spell with us--witches and goblins and fairies and sprites in this wonderful world of make believe! While we open the night with heaps of magic, I'd like to tell you a story that took place more than three centuries ago... Oh yes my pretties, witches are out, they're flying about, they are sliding down the rays of the moon... come, let me brake enchantment's spell on you!

Next to the forest, in a little house surrounded by roses, there lived a woman who believed that she didn’t have to have a beamed house in Devon or Sussex to be happy. So she took her tea and wrote her letters in an environment that went back to a land where such simple pleasures were honored…

Some people believed the woman of the little cottage among the roses was a witch because she did things her own way... Unlike every other decent girl in the village, she refused to tame her wild mane… she loved being outdoors, and didn't mind getting her hands deep in dirt. In summer, she would walk the woods barefooted, and always wore black... ravens were obviously in certain secret tie with her.

She kept stacks of ancient books in her little house among the roses...

Books yellow with time on rituals and magic spells and gardening secrets and herbs and roots and volumes of conjuring medicine filled her little house in the roses. It was said that among her most valuable possessions she kept a collection of rare and secret magic spells as old as the world that once had belong to her grandmother.

She was the only person in all Hollow Village and beyond who spoke three languages and knew how to write and read… her grandmother, who was also a healer had taught her the skill.

Some of the villagers believed that the woman of the little house among the roses could talk to the wind and that wild animals gathered 'bout her garden, summoned by her spells... they talked about how tomatoes would double in size right on the palm of her hands, and golden poppies wildflowers turn into sparrows as she sang them lullabies...

On day late in October the woman of the little house among the roses went to the forest to collect herbs and roots from which she would make her tinctures and syrups and special potions to cure coughs and colds and fevers…

She walked and walked... and walked some more.

The woods were a peaceful place to come. Trees surrounded the area and only sparse sunlight filtered in. The faint sounds of crickets, frogs and birds kept her company.

She walked for miles through all sort of twist and turn and mysterious paths, until she finally came across the powerful root from which she would brew a special tea for a villager who had come from miles around asking her for help...

Carefully, she dug the root out from the ground and cleaned it... she placed it in her basket and then started her way back home...

It neared dusk by the time she found herself mired down in the woods, surrounded by gigantic trees with spooky vines that hung loose from their limps like a beard on a giant’s face. The bold images, earthy scents and musical sounds of the darkening wood should have stirred in her a sense of wonder and harmony, but she was anxious because she knew she was lost.

Finally, she found a small hill. There were a few scraggly trees on the elevation, and she made a small fire, knowing that in the morning she would once again find her way back to her little house among the roses… at last, she fell into an uneasy sleep. As she slept, she dreamt that a fierce witch was standing over her, threatening her...

"Why have you invaded this sacred ground? --the witch demanded-- leave at once or I'll turn you into a skunk!

"I am lost in the woods --the woman said in her dream-- show me the way out, and I will gladly leave". The witch frowned down at her… had she seen this obnoxious intruder in her forest before? Oh yes, dear me... She thought she had!

The woman of the little house among the roses asked the witch if she would guide her out of the forest. Then, the witch raised her arms toward the dark sky and called something in a tongue the woman of the little house among the roses could not understand. "Te conjuro dios del bosque por todos los vientos del norte y del sur…” then she vanished.

Early that morning, the woman who lived in the little house among the roses was awakened by the sudden movement of the waters of a nearby swamp. Emerging from a golden mist, a solitary figure, cradled by a canoe, glides slowly… each paddle pull sliced the tea-ed water, sending whirlpools spinning alongside the misty figure… the woman of the little house among the roses blinked in amazement, and felt chills run all over her body. It was Aiken!

Oh yes, my pretties… it was Aiken, the horned god of the wood, the masculine active side of Nature, god of all growing things, the forest, alertness, wild animals, and desire! The wicket witch had probably summoned Aiken to guide her out of the forest…

The misty figure beckoned to her, and to her surprise, she felt her fear fade away. Packing up her things she made her way down the hillock to the treacherous wood that surrounded it.

Then the horned god smiled at her and transformed himself into a beautiful snow-white goat. The glowing goat leaped and skipped about in a sprightly manner ahead of her, leading her eastward. The woman of the little house among the roses followed it closely. For several hours she followed the glowing animal through the treacherous twists and turns of the wood. Before dawn, they reached the outskirt of the woods. The woman of the little house by the roses looked around and immediately knew where she was. She was beaming with joy!

Ahead of her, the white goat became once more the horned god of the forest. Although frightening at first glance, she found him beautiful. Then he offered her a last smile and vanished as the first rays of the sun pierced the horizon.

The woman went back to her little house among the roses and continued writing her letters and brewing sweet tea...

She loved her home and loved tending her garden. She delighted in the simple things in life: old burlap to add a semblance of comfort to the hearthside, cottons fabric drying in the wind in the apple orchard, a silver vase of white roses, the deep, polished shin of the wooden floors, earthenware pots and her collection of baskets and every treasure kept in her little house in the roses… After that Halloween day, every villager in the Hollow, man and woman, girl and boy, young and old were finally convinced that the strange woman who lived in the little house among the roses was truly a witch (a white witch—that is), for they had seem Aiken with her... the god of the forest known to befriend witches... when sun's rays filtered down through the wood canopy, dappling the ground with bright, yellow light, a long moving shadow could be seen... suddenly a silhouette of horns upon the head of a huge humanoid shape, stretching its way across the clearing towards the little house among the roses...

The villagers tried to erase all memories of the woman who lived in the little house among the roses, from the memory of the town, but they couldn't. Every new century, on Halloween's eve, she comes back... back to the little house among the roses, in a town where nobody knows her, or remembers her, or ever heard about her....

Oh yes, the magical night sky brings curious tales, don’t you think so? They travel through the clouds, and jump from star to star, until they reach us (you and me)... Today, they brought us the tale of that peculiar girl who lived among the roses… A long time ago, I learned that we carry a magical spark inside of us, no matter what age. And it can fizzle, or it can glow. Let it GLOW!!! Believe… believe in magic!

A Halloween story of the flying sort

2010-12-29T13:00:00.000-08:00

I took a long walk in the woods today.... it was a beautiful autumn day, the birds chirped in the trees, and dry leaves rustled and crunched under my feet...

Mesmerized by the gentle hum of a magical stream, I walked and walked until I lost all sense of time and direction...

All of a sudden it got eerily quiet. No sounds, only a flock of vultures soaring and circling in the distant sky. As soon as I stopped to ponder on this, I realized that something was terribly wrong... Ah yes, I was lost in the forest! Worst yet, this was no ordinary forest. It was Witch Meadow--that part of the forest where the evil cat-spirit of all witches lived!! It was a dark and dangerous forest that separated various lands, heroes and even gods had to traverse it with difficulty.

All of a sudden I saw movement among the giant trees. Then a whisper... or was it more like a mumbling? Quietly, I parted the lush vegetation to see what was happening on the other side... I stood there in awe, vigilant; listening to every sound of the forest, until I finally could make out an image in the distance... someone was approaching!

I felt the earth trembling under my feet. I once heard that any lost traveler who encountered the wicket Griselda in her forest were turned into a tiny slug, all slimy and wet, and I was sure whomever was approaching had to be her!

Indeed, it was the terrible Griselda! With slightly opened eyes she looked at me... then, a terrible sound filled the forest air. A high-pitched squeal followed a swift movement, and I saw the wicket Griselda flying the forest over me.

She landed where a black cauldron was boiling something. It looked as if she was performing some sort of spell now. I could hear her haunting music rustling through the trees. Was she calling all the witches of the forest maybe?

Ah yes, a new witch soon appeared out of nowhere. Black clothing. Black witchiepoo pointy boots crushing the skulls of dead mice and leaves resting on the forest floor. Trembling with fear, I tried to run. But it was too late now! As she got closer, I noticed something very odd, something that really puzzled me, but I couldn't tell exactly what it was. Yet, deep inside me I knew...

This witch looked so familiar, so unmistakably familiar... as if somehow we'd met before. And that was a terrifying thought. Panicked, I run to a nearby little stream and glanced at my reflection in the soft ripples of the water. Ah yes, just as I'd fear, that witch was no other than me! The wicked Griselda had turned me into a witch!

Yes yes it was me... me!! Now I could not be called Sugar Plum Fairy any more, or go to the Halloween party in my sparkly fairy dress, worse yet, I could not engage in fun fairy games anymore like stealing single socks from laundry baskets ever again! What was I supposed to do now that I was a witch? Eat bugs? Spook people? Steal all the candies of the world so that children won't have any candies left on Halloween?

For once, witches are supposed to fly in brooms, but I didn't have any broom. I looked everywhere and all I saw was my old bike... ah yes, I had forgotten I had brought it with me and now it was all I had!

And so, I hop on my bike-broomstick and tried to get it started!

My witchiepoo boots sending out swirls of sparkling embers...

When life gives you lemons you make lemonade, right? What else was I to do? And so, I merrily buzzed away on my bike broom and disappeared behind the shrubbery and tall trees.

It was thrilling to be out for a ride in the chilly, darkening afternoon. The wind rushed through my hair and snapped at my skirt... I raced along for some time among the old trees, until all of the sudden something unbelievable happened... my bike lifted off the ground!

Yeepee.... I can fly! I can fly!--I chanted like a real witch! Well now now... you are not afraid are you?

Life is now back to normal, and I am safe and sound as you can see, here at home; relaxing on the porch on this wonderful autumnal day. I have to tell you, I've finally managed to fly that broom! I mean a real broom! It's remarkable how quickly I learn. In fact, I am flying better than most witches who had been doing this for hundreds of years... witches are not supposed to reveal their secrets, but here you go: I can fly! I can really fly and this is the truth and nothing by the truth! Yeppee! Can you see my pointy witchiepoo boots?

Hasta la vista, baby!!

Barbegazi, the snow troll

2010-12-28T09:50:00.000-08:00

January: In the blue sky there is not a cloud, and if it’s cold and numbing inside the house, I can imagine how it must feel outside, in that white world beyond my window.

From the comfort of my cozy nook behind the window, I think I see something moving towards the far end of the garden... a bird? A fairy maybe? Perhaps, it is the spirit of the garden what I see, because with the movement also comes a whisper... like tiny voices, a whisper like snow dust falling from the sky. The voice I hear is like the singing of the birds in spring-time, and the murmuring of a forest brook, and the weeping of a lonely woman at a graveside, all strangely blended. I know it is the voice of Nature... it is January’s voice—melodious like all voices in Nature, yet within itself carrying all the melancholy of winter.

“Look in my eyes and see what I have to give”—said the voice; and so I go out to look...

Trees are leafless and bare, and great white icicles hung from their branches. The little garden is silent and noiseless. I admire the manicured aesthetic of snow and how the garden seems almost perfect under such purity... Several inches of fresh snow had fallen, the clouds had gone, still, all this whiteness, so pure, so calm, embraces me with cold so fierce I can barely resist. My watery eyes, transfixed by this whiteness, search the garden seeking to uncover the secrets hidden in the ice. I walk the white puffy snow covered paths identifying the deciduous bushes, daylilies, purple snapdragons and old rose bushes sleeping under the snow. It’s amazing how the world can suddenly change before your very eyes when it snows... everything you once knew is gone. Another world emerges, changing the panorama you once knew. Even the tall pine and the dark evergreens that grow beside the fence are bent beneath their load.

The silent white snow stretch as far as the eye can reach...

...only down the little garden path there are my footprints in it.... and footprints of something else! I wonder if these footprints are those of the abominable Barbegazi, a fairy creature known to hibernate during the warmer months of the season. They come out of their burrows once the frigid waters have returned. These creature are rarely seen and usually only before a blizzard, which they enjoy very much. During the winter months nobody comes out after dark--or nobody nearly. The women who wash with water don't come, nor the men who drink, nor the children who play from morning to night during the warmer seasons. Not even the dogs of the village will creep out, because they know... Ah, the Troll, the very reason why fairies dislike winter so much... I'm almost certain, however, that those deformed footprints do not belong to the terrible Barbegazi, but to a dog named Conan the Barbarian, who decided to have some fun and follow me around.

“I have such beautiful dreams beneath you”—I talk to the snow. How white, how white and dazzling! True winter lovers worship this, and with cheery eyes they cherish the memory and the time they had with the snow, but my dreams are different.... I dream of warm sunny days and green leaves and soft buds emerging from under the brown bark, I dream of uneven meadows of black-eyed Susan and Marigold, and little singing brooks, whispering to the long grasses and white forest flowers, and among knotted swollen roots the bright-backed beetles and busy ants... Have I mentioned before how much fairies dislike winter, or how they cannot tolerate cold or cloudy days? Oh yes, it has nothing to do with ungratefulness, or disdain, or obliviousness towards all the beauty contained in the snow as some might think... is something deeper, something that cannot be explained with mere words to be understood. And so, as snow keep falling, and frigid air keeps singing, like little children singing a round as the shadows get long, I am off to sit in the sun for a while... There is a mist in the valley in moonlight tonight, but after tomorrow the sun will rise and burn that mist away for me...

Stargate

2010-12-14T07:19:00.000-08:00

Enchanted creatures love to lie down on soft green grasses and search the skies.

Magic always flutters around them when their eyes meet the infinite...

What do you see when you search the skies? Do you see what I see? Is it there really a gap in the constellation of Orion, just as the scientists say?

Seven stars, three of which are very close together shine through the clouds. It looks like a gap in the sky, and one might be incline to believe that behind that opening there must be a much brighter region—an unknown world perhaps, unperceived by the human eye. I once read that although most of these spaces in our Cosmos are but a few minutes of a degree in breadth, yet since they are among the fixed stars there must be spaces larger than what is occupied by our solar system... Can you imagine? Big gigantic spaces of unknown mysterious worlds out there!

I wonder if this gap in the sky be the same gap spoken of in the Scriptures... "I tell you the truth, you shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man." (John 1:51)

Do you believe in the idea that God has a stargate in Orion? Or that maybe Orion is a navigational point for the "higher beings" to connect with earth?

There are questions that cannot be answered, but I can certainly attest to believing and can only say that holy angels visited my garden today. It was an extraordinary experience. I have no other words to describe what I felt.

Photographs source:

Dreamer: Cielo

Place: The garden floor

When: Summer 2010

Sky: Photographs taken by Cielo from her airplane window seat on a trip to San Francisco.

All Hallow's Eve

2010-11-01T07:03:00.000-07:00

Were you out last night to see the full moon? Ah yes, I had to welcome this beautiful yellow moon of October! So I quickly wrapped a scarf over my head, and went out to the garden...

The “Hunter’s Moon”—they call it, and it is big and round and ever so enchanting... it hanged low and lovely in the night sky, and as I stood there with the wind and chill of the night dancing in the canopy of trees, I could feel her silvery glow infusing the garden with magic... it was truly marvelous!

The Hunter’s Moon is no ordinary moon; it behaves in a special way. Here in our valley it’s mirrored in a cool, dark sapphire sky... and sometimes you can even see the rings around it too! Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that ice crystals shining in the glow of the moon? And what do you call the moon, “Mr. Moon”, or “Ms. Moon”? I don’t know about you, but I see vermillion lips! I like to think that the moon dresses in pearls. I see a lovely pearl sateen dress, and I see earrings in stiletto style and a freshwater pearl strand tied with ribbon on her neck... but I can never ever picture a moon with hair in my dreams... do you imagine a moon with hair, or a hairless moon?

Oh and do you see what I see? I see witches flying the Cosmos too!! But that’s normal I suppose! After all, it’s All Hallow's Eve and anything and everything can happen... I tell ya, it was just marvelous being out there in the lonely garden under the full moon last night!

And can I tell you something else? I had the loveliest of dream the other night... and you were there!! In my dreams!! Yes, yes it was you I’m sure! It was around Christmas time, and I went to visit you in your enchanted wood! Winter never came there and we wandered off into this magical land skipping and singing and holding hands like little sisters do!

It was so special, and magical! All sort of mysterious and delightful things happened while we were there, and we shared so much in common we could have passed by real sisters too! It was warm and sunny and all in all a delightful and enchanting place to be! I remember us talking about how we were going to take oodles of pictures of us so that later we would showcase them on both of our blogs! ;) Isn’t this curious... and odd? Do you ever dream with people you don’t know? Or dream about your blog? I woke up smiling...

By the way, I believe that each of us should have our own special enchanted wood—a mysterious and magical land where the fantasist in us would find heaps of opportunities for glorious adventures. I have my own enchanted Woods, and I am sure I have seen you there once or twice ;) You can always leave me a breadcrumb trail in the form of a comment or two when you visit, so I can go meet you there and play! ;)

Well, I better be off now! Nightfall will be upon us before you know it, and you know how it goes... comes night, and with the first kiss of the full moon there they will be—witches and goblins... all sort of creatures would pervade your garden, and what it was a lovely place to be a minute before will turn into a scary place... an unfamiliar and mysterious place if you would!

Oh goodness me, did you just hear that? Ah yes, a very estrange noise! Over there amidst the bushes! And is that what I think it is? Oh yes, the Halloween witches are already here; lurking the darkness! Can you see them too? Vines are growing hair and I see bushes growing arms and fingers with long nails... Oh I'm sure I heard a shallow breathing behind the butterfly bushes... Ahhhrrrrggg!!!

Ah yes, the witches are here and they're taking over the garden! Are you hearing enchanted incantation in your part of the world? Can you see witches in your garden too? No? Well, be careful... be very careful for when the wind is in the west witches all over the world would be brewing their magic brews. You can hear them singing their magic songs already, and some of their wildness might get inside you!! Oh I better hurry inside. I much rather be inside my cozy house anytime during the night! When I think of my home, my very soul fills with a sense of peace beyond words... a presence larger than life itself moves around me and encompasses my small world... I'm not afraid any more. For this I am thankful. My soul is overflowing with thanksgivings.

(Image Sources: Digital Art-Internet) HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!!

A little Halloween silliness…

2010-10-12T14:18:00.000-07:00

Autumn is my favorite season and, aside from Thanksgivings, Halloween is my favorite holiday, even though I’ve nothing to do with the paganism associated with it. I don’t really celebrate Halloween; nor do I decorate my house for it—not a little bit either!

You see, it’s not Halloween that what really thrills me... it’s the enchantment in the October air, the crispiness in the folds of the autumn nights! October certainly does something to my brain—and my body! Imagination hit the roof, and it gives me a broom and a ward upon my crooked nose...

Long ago and far away I had a great great great grandmother who was a witch... she was wanted by the authorities in Chester, in 1757, although she was from Wales. Wales was 500 years ahead of everyone else in accepting witches, and therefore she was never caught. Only three witches from Wales went to trial on that year, and that was at an English court in Chester. I lovingly keep, in my "drawer of memories", a very old document proof of it! I had some people telling me how much I look like this great great great grandmother of mine, only she had hair as dark as ravens...

Children’s enthusiasms are contagious you know, and I get spoiled by it, especially in October... I like to eat those gooey trick-or-treats, and believe I can ride upon a bushy broom before a full moon’s gleam.

My garden is usually the arena where my deliriums take place, and I have so much fun there too; especially at dusk, when the sky turns magically orange and wonderfully spooky! I’d hold a big, black cat and on my long and shaggy hair there’d be a pointed hat... crows as black as the darkest night would come along and I would hop upon a broom and ride the night wild and high...

Now that All Hollows Eve is fast approaching I am already feeling somewhat witchy... I need to know how to fly on brooms; I mean real brooms! Do you know how to do that? Please answer me as soon as possible because there are only few more days left to Halloween and I'm a very slow student... I suppose my great great great grandmother, as opposed to me who only tells stories to amuse myself, was not concern with such flights of fancy, but I am! Silly me!

Witches and ghosts and goblins are already trespassing and my garden is aglow with all the chant and caldron fires going on there... by the way, I hope the witchy music you hear doesn’t spook you away! ;)

Can you see them witches? Can you hear them chanting and dancing? I do! I do! “Hoity-toity! Tweedledee... tweedledum! Lalala!”

Ah yes, the weather is certainly changing around here, leaves are already falling in my part of the world... the celebration of and enchantment has started! I want to dance and sing and lift up my arms with pure glee beneath the open sky... like a willow dancing in autumn breeze! Are you this crazy about fall too?

Do you know of any Halloween parties going on around blogland? I have already participated here, and had a lot of fun in doing so, but my witchy self is ready for more fun. I can hardly wait to ride upon my bushy broom again!

Down the dark path we go... I can almost feel the spells and magic fluttering in the wind, while gentle whispers of autumn's secrets dance around my ears. We are here. This is October!!

Just a dream!

2010-09-28T15:57:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, in a land where trees grew tall and housed all manner of strange creatures, a girl named “Yellow Hair” went out for a walk...

Enthralled by morning light and bird songs, Yellow Hair walked and walked until she finally found herself lost in the woods.

Rainbow feathered birds of green and blue and yellow flew down from the tree tops as Yellow Hair sat on a fallen log to ponder where she was...

Too late she realized she ventured onto "Perdition Trail"! What she thought was the path petered out into dense brush and a tangled web of trees so thick you could almost see the sky, and now she was lost! Worse yet, as she oriented herself she realized this wasn't any forest. Oh no, it was a land of witches! A land of many fear! The legend said that all sort of supernatural creatures abounded there, some dating back to the long lost ages before man could write. Not even the most courageous heroes of Hollow Village would dare walk that part of the forest.

It was well known that for centuries a coven of witches met secretly each fall to practice their magic in that part of the forest... everyone in Hollow Village was aware of this, and not a soul would dare go into the woods when it grew dark and the witches of the night began their rituals...

Yellow Hair sat on the log trembling with fear... The beautiful birds of the forest heard her cried and settled down on her shoulders. They told Yellow Hair of a witch woman who lived in a lovely stone cottage deep within the forest. She was a good witch and Yellow Hair would find asylum in her cozy stone cottage. “Over there... over there is where you would find the cottage!", said the birds signaling the far-off distance with their shinny wings. And so Yellow Hair followed the path dictated by the birds; hurrying in her steps before the forest grew dark and the night creatures began to come out...

A sound of wings fluttering above her made her look up and there, before her, was a man and his dog... or was it more like a gnome and his dog? At first Yellow Hair was afraid that he was one of the creepy men that inhabited the forest, but it was said that they all had hair of the darkest black, and although this man had a huge sombrero that covered most of his head, she still could tell that the gnome didn’t have hair--not a single hair in all of his round head!

Yellow Hair asked the good gnome if he would help her find the little stone cottage and the good witch who lived in it, but the gnome just looked at her in total surprise... he had to sit down for a minute to put his thoughts in order... he looked very perplexed.

The good gnome told Yellow Hair that he had traveled from far away in the forest, where he lived up in the treetops with his dog and had never ever seen a stone cottage in that part of the wood, or heard of a good witch before. “Nonsense”—he said. “There are no such things in this ominous forest”. And to prove he was right, he took Yellow Hair to look out over the canopy of trees... Yellow Hair was afraid to climb so high, and at first she had a lot of trouble maintaining her balance, but after some struggle and much giggling she finally felt very comfortable up in the tress, and was able to see a forest that stretched out to the ends of the earth in every direction...

And what do you know! Ah yes, a cottage indeed!! Yellow Hair could see the small white stone cottage nestled among wild roses in the distance. It was the most precious thing she had ever seen... a cottage swathed in mystery, yet so enchanting her heart was bursting with joy. The strangest and purest of light was falling down from the sky right onto this little cottage; like a magical veil, and there were myriads of flowers growing in the shade. Calendulas, poppies, love-in-a-mist and bachelor’s buttons grew like rich, flourishing grass... the soft lights of candles flickering on the windows of the little cottage made her heart sing... she was thrilled!

The old gnome saw the cottage too and was baffled by it, but wary of an evil presence that had already grown too strong, decided to go along with Yellow Hair... They walk together by dangerous waterfalls and through the thickest of forest. They could not even see each other because of all the trees... They tried to stay together, but they could not. The gnome went this way. Yellow Hair went that way.

When Yellow Hair finally reached the cottage she raced to it... as she reached the half open front door, she called out: “Is there anybody home?” Total silence. It was such fascination entering that silent cottage. As Yellow Hair came into the house she was pleasantly surprised to find that it was nothing what she had expected to be--a cottage filled with dust and cobwebs and stuffing falling out of the sofa cushions. Everything was in perfect order!

Hurrying along, Yellow Hair found another room filled with lovely objects. A feeling of peace embraced her. It was almost like being in her own home!

There was a table and on it there were beautiful fresh cut roses on pretty wee crystal vases, and there was a romantic looking milk glass lamp with a white shade that reminded Yellow Hair of a bride's perky skirt. Yellow Hair was particularly enthralled by an old photograph of a lovely maiden. Who was she? She pondered nostalgically. The lovely maiden reminded Yellow Hair of someone she once knew, but couldn't remember who.

A growing sense of being watched overwhelmed the girl. Outside the cottage, a sudden boast of footsteps was heard on the flight of steps leading nowhere. Yellow Hair remembered seeing those very odd stairs outside the cottage when she came in, and had wondered why they were there. It was the most curious stairs she had ever seen because it consisted of only four steps that lead nowhere...

Indeed, someone was approaching!

The footsteps became louder... Faster.... terrifying!

Stricken by fear, Yellow Hair bolted from the room and down the hall. As she looked over her shoulder she could see the most mysterious figure swathed in black...

Yellow Hair was petrified! Oh she so wanted to believe this mysterious person was the good witch! But what about if she wasn't? The woman entered the cottage. Yellow Hair could hear her mumbling some sort of a spell in the kitchen: “One tablespoon dried wormwood, three teaspoons ground nutmeg, one teaspoon powdered mandrake root, thirteen drops of pine oil....”

She was probably working on some weird spell potion. Yellow Hair was sure of that! There was a variety of complicated bottles there in the kitchen. Poisons and healing concoctions and love potions maybe? Yellow Hair saw the woman place all her ingredients in a glass jar. She gently swirled her potion in a clockwise direction, sealed the jar tightly and then took the mixture to a cool, dark place. The potion was to be let there for 13 nights and then it would had to be filtered through a cheesecloth. The woman would use this potion to anoint her candles for wish-magic, jinx-breaking and spells to attract good luck, but Yellow Hair didn't know any of this...

Yellow Hair was fascinated by all this when all of the sudden, as if she knew that Yellow Hair was spying on her all this time, the woman turned around and said: “Now then now then!... don't you stand there till the tea gets cold! Come help me carry the tray down the hall and we'll have some tea". Yellow Hair couldn't do a thing other than to carry the tray down the hall as she was instructed...

And what she saw there in that room gave Yellow Hair total confidence in the woman! She was for sure the good witch she was looking for! There was a table magically filled with all sort of goods. From the china to the tablecloth to the flower arrangement, everything was just beautiful, and there were eye-appealing dishes too, such as mushroom and chestnut soup and maple-orange cloverleaf scones alongside sweet chocolate and peanut butter mousse trifles and creamy pumpkin-custard tartlets and this and that...

After the tea ceremony was over, the good witch said to Yellow Hair. “We must hurry and send you back home before nightfall”. And so, the good witch took Yellow Hair straight to the curious flight of steps that took to you "nowhere". Or so Yellow Hair thought! The sky was already turning dark, and if you would had pay close attention to details you could had seen the witches already at work through the trees, as sparks from their spells and cauldron fires filled the night sky...

"Listen well”—said the good witch. “A memory can guide you home like the arrows that say “Path” can lead you through the thickest forest to the bright clearing... do you believe this? Yellow Hair said she did and closed her eyes as the woman instructed her to do. She looked inside her head for a memory of her very dear home and the minute she did this something wonderful and magical happened! When Yellow Hair opened her eyes again she knew exactly where she was! In her garden!!

Ah yes... ah yes!! She was indeed in her garden, the happiest of place of all places!! It all had been but a bad dream! Yellow Hair remembered having fall asleep under the warm afternoon breezes. Now. Finding herself there lying down on the carpet of green of her very own garden was just pure bliss. She was safe home and there was nothing more satisfying or rewarding than that!

The End!

The enchanted garden

2010-09-15T13:22:00.000-07:00

My little world sits on a dream come true... A garden!

I've been busy dividing perennials, replanting and mending errors such as moving a large rose bush that was planted in the wrong place last autumn... summer has tanned my skin, it has tattooed by body with rose thorns and my hair is wild with sunshine, petals and bits of leaves... there’s no question being out in the sun gives that good factor feel... but is more than that to me...

Summer gives my heart wings! I love to stretch out on the grass and just look at the endless blue summer sky... it almost feel as if I reach out, I could touch happiness!

Here in the Northern Hemisphere, the warmest season of the year runs only from June to August. This is a period of great happiness for me. After that, everything changes. It is true that each season brings its own share of magic that cannot be outshined by the next, but you always find your heart attached to a particular season... I love autumn and the predominant mood of the autumnal season, but autumn brings with it a certain melancholy that to me is always linked to the imminent arrival of harsh weather... and that is always unnerving! So of all seasons, I choose summer as the happiest of seasons!

Indian Summer

2010-09-08T08:41:00.000-07:00

Did you know that the first full moon of September is called the “Harvest Moon?” Ah yes, it means time to collect our harvest in whatever form it takes. Here, in our little enchanted space, we have much home-grown produce to collect and then preserve for the long cold months ahead. All day long I see fairies and sprites buzzing along as they get ready for the hard work ahead...

If you would come by for a visit, you would see that the garden is alive with all the bustling and hustling and moving very fast of all sort of creatures –little and big– as they go through their busy day. We have oodles of grapes and tomatoes to collect and then preserve and give away, and sprites and elves are fully occupied in their job of collecting all the precious herbs from our kitchen garden. After all our herbs are harvested, they would have to be preserved. Freezing is one of the easiest methods to preserve herbs, but they could also be dried. The thought of a winter's supply of culinary herbs from my garden makes me smile! Doesn’t this sound dreamy?

Life is not just about frolicking under the canopy of trees as one may think... There is much more to do than just that! Although I would have to say that frolicking in the garden all day long sounds dreamy to me! I tell you, you work so hard and for such long hours out here! And with garden duties, and oodles of chores inside and outside, you just can't find sufficient time to rest. My back and feet ache at the end of everyday from my busyness. But at least I have all the help one can get. I can't complain! And now that sweet Mr. Peter Pan thought of me and brought me this cute sombrero all the way from Neverland to protect my head from the scorching sun of September, life is even sweeter out here!

I have my giant basket of herbs straight from our own garden!

And will be working on my own edible delights that would be infused with love and magic... Sometimes we get so caught up in life that we miss life’s heartbeat right before our eyes. And I don't want to miss a single minute of these last days of summer. Time passes much too quickly if you ask me... even though this frolicking fairy was just beyond my camera lens, as I sat here, I could feel the passing of time blowing by like the breath of summer fairies on my face.

Summer is almost over, and that song from Cheryl Wheeler keeps popping up in my mind...

"Summer's almost over and I'm crying but I don't know why Sentimental old fool, weeping for this blue, blue sky And the way the cat is sleeping and the way the garden grew Wagging dogs who lick my face and the way I feel for you..."

Soon it'll be autumn again, dried leaves will be falling down in showers and piling themselves up in little grave-like heaps, and I will go out to the woods and wander its lush mysterious paths once again. But for now I’m still enjoying the last of the roses and the fragrant grapevines; the residual of a garden soon to slow down in a mosaic colors of red, purple, gold, and orange...

"Who could help but welcome autumn and the promise of the winter snow? Still there's something sweet and wistful as I watch this lovely summer go But the sun is sinking sooner and the weeds have won at last With the berries on the bushes and the crickets in the grass Oh summer's almost over and I'm crying but I don't know why..."

Late summer

2010-09-08T07:30:00.000-07:00

Morning light playing on my hair, sun-dappled fields, Black-Eyed-Susans and the taste of apples peels in the breezes...

Perhaps it was just a dream?

Perhaps I am floating in a sea of sun drops... alas, my heart is a bird! What a shining handful of happiness made out of days like these... perfect late summer’s days! A magical end, without the autumn yet to lead us into its wide spaces and brilliant colors.

It feels like heaven!

End of summer

2010-09-01T07:11:00.000-07:00

Summer wanes… Summer dwindles away...

Summer sings a final hymn and paints the sky with brilliant flair...

Summer is a hopping rabbit getting ready for winter And a wee baby turtle dreaming on the last magical leaf Indian summer of the shadowy fields, lyric nights and enchanted gardens full of singing…

I am ready. My heart embraces the hope of autumn. I walk on the garden and wait for the falling leaf.

October's enchantment swirls around me… like a grasshopper’s horn I hear it; high in the maples its voices ring. I am a dancing leaf, a locust slowly grinding the silence, under a moon waning and broken, and tired with summer.

Over my soul October murmurs its mute benediction, while I gaze at a garden so ready to sleep. Welcome October!

This is what my garden looks like these last few days of summer. The last roses of the seasons are still in bloom. It is an amazing world. The garden is particularly enchanting. It is an absolutely glorious Indian summer and the leaves are still in their green splendor around here. It takes my breath away. It is like a continual song... Sitting here on my back porch as I always do, I think how good it is to find myself in such a beautiful space, early in the morning, before breakfast, the sky turns magically enchanting; perfectly clear and brilliant orange and, above that, bright blue with a little half-moon (pics above at dusk). It is a transporting sight, absolutely beautiful. It is exciting. It is a wonderful way to start the day with that orange sky and that luminous garden around me as if I were wrapped in the sight of nature....

2010-06-22T20:00:00.001-07:00

Wouldn’t it be nice if we wake up one morning and notice we have grown wings during the night? When I was a little girl I had a recurrent dream. I could fly like a bird! And I think that’s why today I have such fascination with fairies… Wouldn't it be grand to just flap your arms and be able to fly? Like Tinkerbell!

Oh to be able to judge distances accurately for landings and to see the ground clearly from the sky… I’m soaring soaring gliding, I’m flying higher in the sky. Figures look very small on the ground. I leap and soar and stop to a stand just to swoop again, dive down and soar above. I'm turning and turning; I’m in the widening sky, among white clouds soars my soul, things cannot fall apart, the centre hold… I’m free upon the world. Yes, is nice to dream, don’t you think so! Well, today we can dream and even pretend we’re fairies… is official! Today is National Fairy Day. So you and I are allowed to daydream and fly in this magical month of June…. I leave you this cute video in celebration to Fairy Day, when you see it, just pretend that the lovely fairies in this video are us... you and I--kindred spirits having fun playing fairy….

Happy Fairy Day, everyone!

The enchantment of all creatures

2010-06-22T07:49:00.000-07:00

Each day ends at dusk. Dusk is fleeting and beautiful and different each day. But if we don't pay attention we will miss it; miss the whole enchantment of it. And I just don’t want to miss it... Not a bit of it! Not ever!

Things happen here in the garden at that time of day you know... I mean magical things; things rather undetected or invisible during any other time of the day. I could stay lost in this moment forever...

Fancy shoes, petticoats, long skirts and blouses with puffy sleeves—nothing can stop me from the blissful contact with Nature at dusk, not even mud... So every evening when the sun starts its slow descent, right before it disappears beyond the horizon, I go out for a stroll in the garden...

It is at dusk when one can see what’s happening, I mean really happening in the garden. You'd have to tune to Nature, then tiptoe through the mysterious ivy path down to fairy lane...

And stand very still on the tip of your toes to observe what’s going on in Petunia Valley...

Not a single soul, no sound disturbs the hollow chime of the dripping water of fountains in Petunia Valley... not yet! But then... there they are! You hear your heart go thump thump thump. Excitement tickles the air… and tickles your nose! At the feet of the elephant ears by the birdbath and beyond, there you would find them! Those inhabitants of the garden! Each corner, each crevice comes alive with the frolicking of little creatures and night dwellers singing and dancing...

The parade starts, and if you stop still; very still for a minute or two you can see the ants carrying their trombones, and the spiders their tubas, and there are drummers and drums and pipers and pipes on the downtown streets of the garden...

A sound of trumpet is hear; a shout, a cry and a proclamation of what’s to come. Then the Great Owl emerges from behind a thicket of trees and the garden turns silent again...

The tufts of feathers atop his head shines with a magical light... the sight of the garden's Great Spirit emerging with no warning and passing so closely is etched forever in my mind... there is golden-white light all around him, and his presence is so powerful it dims every other voice and noise and everything else in his path...

The Great Spirit King of the Garden speaks and blesses the crowd, then burst forth a unanimous shout, the cry of joy is hear throughout the garden... fireflies would carrying lanterns, and as the marching bands of red wigglers entertain the crow, worms and garden snakes and crayfish and a host of other critters comes out in their decorated floats...

You can see the flowers dancing to the exotic rhythms of the tambores. The spider lilies, the “ballerinas of the garden”, wake up during those happy dusk celebrations. Fragrant, exotic pure-white flowers appear and bloom all night through the following morning. In midsummer, beautiful, intricate, spidery flowers would dance under the moon naked as summer geraniums and delphiniums applaud and sing and dance along with the tall roses and the gladiolus... Ah yes, it's mystery at its best, it's enchantment... it's the underworld aglow at your very feet! But the best part of it all is always the pivotal moment when the night fairies make their entrance...

They are a perennial favorite, no garden parade would be complete without inclusion of the fairies... night time sparkles and spells are mumbled whenever they come into sight...

If you pay close attention, you will also see the feared inhabitants of the garden engage in dangerous and deadly flying trapeze acts way above the canopy of the garden, where a performer would grab the trapeze bar and jump off a high platform... the good thing about all this, is that nobody dies in these treacherous games, because magic, and not gravity, creates the swing...

Shiny stars adorn the grape vine with tiny magical lights and star songs, and there cradling among the grapes are unknown entities, writing messages in the leaves, leaving us pondering over that invisible world only few people can see, and you can hear the soft, rustling sound of the elves as they spread their shining wings and flight silently over the garden...

Is magic I tell you, it’s the enchanted hour... every day there are certain moments than can multiply the enjoyment, value and balance of your life much more than others. These are the magic moments you don’t want to miss... I certainly don't want to miss a thing in the garden at dusk! It truly becomes an enchanted paradise. Like Anne Shirley would say: “You couldn't enjoy its loveliness more if you had ropes of diamonds”. I just love the enchantment and inspiration of summer evenings... can you feel it too?

Well, my sweet dear friends, night is upon us, and it is time for me to go inside... The garden dwellers understand too I must go... and so the music ceases, and with a soft, rustling sound the elves spread their shining wings and flight silently over the sleeping earth... the flowers close their bright eyes and the little winds get very still, for the feast is over... the magic has ended until the following evening, at dusk... Almost every single day of our life is filled with moments that are magical... gems, I would say. These are the moments worth capturing... worth dwelling on, worth celebrating. Way too often we miss those moments when they are happening. By dwelling a bit on those moments, when they occur, you can capture that magic and add it to your life!

Hope you decide to stroll your garden this evening at dusk...

If you do, expect the unexpected!

Then please come back and tell me what you saw!

I'd love to hear all about it!

Enchanted by the ocean

2010-06-10T20:24:00.001-07:00

I smile o'er the wrinkled blue

Lo! the sea is fair,

Smooth as the flow of a maiden's hair; And the welkin's light shines through Into mid-sea caverns of beryl hue, And the little waves laugh and the mermaids sing, And the sea is a beautiful, sinuous thing!

I scowl in sullen guise The sea grows dark and dun, The swift clouds hide the sun But not the bale-light in my eyes, And the frightened wind as it flies Ruffles the billows with stormy wing, And the sea is a terrible, treacherous thing!

When moonlight glimmers dim I pass in the path of the mist, Like a pale spirit by spirits kissed. At dawn I chant my own weird hymn, And I dabble my hair in the sunset's rim, And I call to the dwellers along the shore With a voice of gramarye evermore.

And if one for love of me Gives to my call an ear, I will woo him and hold him dear, And teach him the way of the sea, And my glamor shall ever over him be; Though he wander afar in the cities of men He will come at last to my arms again.

(The Sea Spirit by Lucy Maud Montgomery)

2010-06-03T18:08:00.000-07:00

It is written on the quilt of grass

In the shape of a daffodil print

Some strands of butterfly wing

A flower scent

There is no word to define the joy,

No measure...

Where your heart sings is where your feet will dance. Is it that simple?

The magical stairs

2010-05-21T19:27:00.000-07:00

Is no secret... sometimes I can’t seem to remember who I am, or where I am. Is very simple, and it can happen to you too if you let your imagination fly far and wide. You suddenly wake up, and find yourself magically transported to some amazing land. You won’t even need a willowroot magic wand to be transported. All you have to do is climb the magical stairs of imagination....

I'm in a place visited by bizarre inhabitants, teeming with unicorns and elves: The deep mysterious wood surrounding Hollow Village, that's what is called. If you don’t know it yet, the Hollow is an enchanting small village somewhere in Dreamland; a place filled with magic, where I have the most delicious time playing games, gathering bouquets, picking apples, and dreaming in huge magical cherry trees...

One might think that I have an obsession with the Alice of Lewis Carroll, but this isn't true. You'll not find a Mad Hatter or a white rabbit no matter how hard you look, in any of my dreams! The lure of the land and the redheaded orphan with a scope for imagination by the name of Anne Shirley are much more my sweet cup of tea. You must understand, there are no limits to fantasy here in the garden. You simply have to go by your own code of rules and beliefs based on fancy; capricious, whimsical fancies of the imagination...

The last time I sat here, in this same spot you're seeing now, Berbegazi came to visit from his frozen underground dungeon. Is you don't remember him, or never ever have seen him before (and I hope you haven't), he's a troll as bleak as snow and as rigid as ice. Berbegazi is his name, and he inhabits tunnel and burrows in arctic tundra and snowed mountain peaks, but sometimes he chooses lovely gardens to dwell.

But that was back when all the snows of the world seem to have accumulated here. Berbegazi is now hibernating, and this morning is particularly beautiful, and warm. The sky has the bluest tint to it, and the purest balmy air is bringing in myriads of tiny butterflies to the garden. Butterflies that look like magical little flying flowers as they flutter and dance above the snow balls, lupines and smiling pansies.

You can tell the birds welcome warmth with the same joyfulness I do. They’re happy little souls, you can hear them singing, see them fleeting the skies or scurrying among green branches without an apparent worry. One would almost think that birds have ideals and values which they’re trying to live up to, even if they never quite succeed... Life would be a sad place without them. With them it’s grand and great...

Did you know that fairies abound in this place? Look at them very closely, and tell me if you see flowers or fairies dancing in the sunlight... See what I mean?

Like Anne Shirley would say: "Isn’t it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me glad to be alive – it’s such an interesting world. It wouldn’t be half so interesting if we knew all about everything, would it? There’d be no scope for imagination then, would there?" But am I talking too much?

These are called columbine flowers, and their dainty fairy-like blooms held high above delicate foliage, nod and dance in the breeze. Surely one of the top reasons why I love coming here must be the fairies, the color bursts of flowers, the exotic fragrances of leaves, the hypnotic effect of arching stems swaying in the wind, the singing of the trees as gentle breezes rattle their leaves, and of course, the intriguing columbines... I like to give columbine exotic names like “Joyful Adelfa”, “Fairy Mist”, “Yellow Luna”, and “Colorida Almida”. As I gazed at them floating and dancing above the surrounding vegetation I know why they always have been inspiration for the notion of woodland fairies. Oh yes, I see fairies in my garden. Can you see them too? They’re dancing in the sunshine with wreaths of columbines and foxglove wands in their hands.

I told you... is pure magic here.... I walk through my garden just like Anne of Green Gables walked through Violet Vale on her way to school, with reverent steps and worshipping eyes, as if I trod on holy ground. What can I say? I love my garden, and when I am here is like being in Paradise. My own delicious little Paradise!

Have a great day everyone, and don't forget to dream in your garden!

Alice in Wonderland

2010-05-03T11:03:00.000-07:00

I still remember the first time I read “Alice in Wonderland”. Funny, how one same thing can convey such an array of different feelings in different people... what did you feel? What was Alice in Wonderland to you? I was immediately transported into a wonderful magical world all of my own...

I’m spinning spinning....

...traveling in time, out in the cosmos... leaving behind the clearing with the Mad Hatter's tea party... behind is the Red Queen's garden gate...

spinning spinning

Where I'm I?

I’m peering through a small passage (usually called my window), not much larger than a rat-hole, into the loveliest garden I’d ever seen... Oh how I’ve longed to get out of that dark hall (in real life I called it “winter”), and be here, just here, under the precious flowering pear tree...

...and be one with birds, and wander about among beds of bright roses and cool green grass.

The sun has return to the land, and my little world is once again bathed in warm sunshine. Soon summer will be rolling over the hills like a colorful blanket... I can almost hear the roses singing in the balmy morning air, and the rolling clouds above me here, light and fluffy.

My nose twitches, rabbit like, as I realize that my dreams of warm weather and a lovely garden have finally come a reality... I’m listening to what speaks in the blood:

Greeting the morning in the garden

Bare feet in cool grass

Pink lemonade in sparkling glasses

Delicious sun warming up my shoulders and back as I work the ground

Opened curtains blowing in the warm afternoon breeze

Vibrancy and freshness

The sense of hope of new life and love

Waking up to tweeting birds outside the window

Seeing the rain through the rays of sunshine

Inhaling the fresh smell of flowers and grasses lingering in crisp air

Taking a walk without shivering

Parties in the garden with family and friends.

Ah yes, magic... I see magic all around me! Magic is all around us, and always is, but our ability to perceive it depends on our willingness to reconnect to our joy and delight, and enhance our creativity, by letting our inner child play!

Rain

2010-04-21T19:14:00.000-07:00

It's raining again, and here they come...

A tic-tic-tic, three rain fairies I see...

A-ramble ‘cross the garden

A-laughing-dancing on the stones

I see them ‘midst yellow narcissus and happy daffodils...

Can you see them too? O'er there! Behind the bare grape vine...

They’re funny, they’re small, they’re green with butterfly wings....

The rain blurs my vision... now I see them now I don’t...

They hide, they play, they leap and dance...

See how they dip and dive? Is a dream is a game! I don’t know what’s in the rain –magic?— for every time that rains I shout and sing

and fairies come out to play...

They'll give you a golden ring and clasp around your neck a bell...

Is magic this I know!

There’s magic when it rains!

Do you love rain?

2010-04-13T12:54:00.000-07:00

What do they see in her?--a woman who is supposed to have magical or wonder-working powers? A “witch”?—the villagers, those that won’t understand. Those who see the sun, setting in golden tones, but really won’t see it, those who taste and breathe happiness but cannot grasp it, cannot stretch across the velvety darkness and wrap themselves in the cloak of starts…

I often wonder why she love the forest so much and would never think of leaving it to live in the village… but now I know. Perhaps, her fascination with the woods comes from sensing in their darkness, in their inhuman uniqueness suggestions of our precarious existence, or perhaps is the mysteries the forest hides within itself, or the trees standing undaunted, permanently providing shelter and visions of trapped souls. Whatever it is, she has found a permanent home in the heart of Nature. And I know... I know she is happy there.

Was she there, by the window, lost in thoughts when it snowed this morning? I know… it wasn’t supposed to snow, but it did… big round flowers of snowflakes that melted even as they touch the ground. I knew how much she wanted to be out there, in her garden… I can almost see her wandering through its secret places, and beyond it, the thick woods behind her cottage, where the stark lines of winter were disappearing into the fuzziness of spring... I can see her too, gathering bits of rose petals, bird feathers and polished stones flecked with fairy dust that later she would weave into necklaces and bracelets and beautiful flower bands that she’d string into her hair.

The sun came up later, and she spend hours sorting through her treasures, mesmerized by the play of gleaming light as it drifted and spun, prism-like, throughout the window...

Listening to silence, drinking tiny sips of herb tea…

I cannot begin to tell you how much she treasure those special moments of solitude… the birds were chirping and fluttering in bare tree branches, and even the garden Great Spirit came for a short visit...

She heard the voices... the force of their incantations so strong that she could not help but to obey it.

And then there she was, caught in the magic of the moment, cleaning the ivy path, pulling dry leaves, cool breezes whispering “greetings!”. Bare trees vibrated and hummed in anticipation of the earth rebirth, and she breathed with the Mother, she breathed with the earth. Again, one with the earth...

Of angels and bird tales

2010-03-11T10:07:00.000-08:00

In a small but pleasant garden sits a little girl all alone, and she looks at the garden with a mixture of amazement and disappointment all together, for drops that are not dew are falling softly upon the grass, and again the weather has turned cold and dreary, and the new irises, who looked wonderingly up, seem to be shivering in the wind...

The little girl believed in comfort food, and thus, before going outside to sit here she made herself a "soothing cup of comfort". The feeling of comfort and warmth she gets from drinking the delicious cup of steamy chocolate should be enough to cheer her up, but she’s still upset... how could she not! She was so into spring already, and now...

A cold wind lift the scent of wet earth as raindrops make little puddles of water and sing enchanted songs. Yes, it is raining, and cold and the morning has that sad grayish feel to it that makes you shiver and wonder about life... the little girl cannot understand Mr. Weather, cannot believe how drastically his mood changes from day to day, for only yesterday was warm, and sunny and the sky was so blue and so clear, and she had decided to spring clean the garden and back porch, and she pruned the rest of the roses, and cleaned every birdbath in the garden, and now she sits here, out looking the lonesome garden, shivering in the wind because winter had decided to return... or so she thinks...

Oh she cannot say that she dislikes the feeling of coziness and ease that comes with rain. In fact, she loves rain and loves the soothing tic-tic-tic-tac song of the rain... is cold what she cannot take; not a bit more! But then... something, or someone is calling. Can you hear it?

"Little girl, tell me why you weep," said a low voice in her ear; and, looking up, the child beheld an angelic figure standing on a far distance in the garden; a lovely face smiled on her... her shining wings were folded on a white and glittering robe that fluttered in the wind.

"Who are you, lovely thing?" cried the little girl, smiling through the rain… "I am the fairy of your garden, little child and I have come to cheer you up... Look up!" She said, and as the little girl turned her head up, there it was... a robin perched on the highest branch!

The little girl was thrilled, for she knew that the surest sign of spring of all is not the leaves in bud, but the appearance of the robin… Yes, a robin is considered a harbinger of spring... but there was more surprises awaiting, for then a second robin flew by, as if to assure the little girl that spring is really right around the corner. And there they were, two little heralds of spring the garden fairy sent! The little girl could not be happier!

"Wait --the robins seem to be saying-- Be patient. The storm will pass. Spring will come."

What are the birds saying to you in your own little part of the world?

As the earth turns...

2010-01-21T14:51:00.000-08:00

A new day begins, and as the earth turns and the sun rises, the sky dressed in warm rays and golden lavender hues. I make ready to join the celebration... There are noble adventures to undertake, and although the garden sleeps, there are still trees that speak and move and talk to each other at night, and under the ground are still caverns that lead to other realms...

It’s January. It is cold, and it will be several more weeks before even the earliest daffodils would blooms... but I’m still celebrating life. The sky reminds me that life, though it might mean wretchedness and hard work, it is a pleasant thing and worth the having.

I'm standing by the window looking outside. There are sparrows hopping about on the wet ground, picking up seeds and insects. They're happy little souls, and it almost seem they're oblivious to fear... oblivious to the return of the terrible Plectranthus.

Indeed, Plectranthus has kept coming to the garden all winter. His powerful eyes scan the garden as he flies and scurries among the grasses and shrubbery looking for a meal. The other day a terrible battle took place right here, right between earth and sky. I heard a loud thumps. A little sparrow, in his haste to escape the hawk’s deadly weapons, had flown into the window and landed on the porch. Spotting it, the hawk swooped downward, and finally carried his meal home. It became rather calm and quiet then, and the small birds continued trying to empty our feeders until dusk.

Nature might go about forever in deep weeds and mourning if she took the trouble to lament about the weather; so I should do the same and go on smiling... Smiling, although all morning the rain has been pelting the windows, making our already-dark, north-facing little house almost as dark as night. Why should the sky not be clouded and the birds fly home hungry, because in one small house there is one less sparrow and a summer fairy cries for the return of the sun?

A world called Danubia

2010-01-20T17:17:00.000-08:00

The sun decided to come out again this morning, and as soon as his glorious golden face came into sight, I was transported to this magical blissful world where my dreams usually become reality. Unicorns, dragons, sprites, rabbits and birds came out of their holes and nooks and into this enchanted world of mine…. as through the pages of an ancient book.

My mind soars, and as the morning sun warms the earth, I feel my spirit being lifted up... What is the way to the dwelling of light, and where is the place of darkness, that I should follow it to its bounds and know the paths to its house?

Only a real human being can set things right by giving the birds names: “Abutilon”, with feathers like those of maple trees, and that other tiny Western Tanager, "Serissa”, which remains me of spring, and flowers that resemble dangling miniature hibiscus….

They all came to my window... to enchant me, to give me stories that never end.

Their story began again and again and again as Abutilon with feathers like those of maple trees, and Serissa with a song like dangling miniature hibiscus, kissed each other in front of me, oblivious to shame.

And fight over food with amazing aggressiveness

As I contemplated this magical world from across the window, Abutilon and Serissa took the challenge and flew across the Swamps of Shadows and the Silver Mountains, meeting sorcerers and giants, bats and night-hobs, gnomes and racing snails… but really, all they did was wait bravely for the apparition of the terrible "Plectranthus"... the beautiful but ever so cruel black hawk that has been visiting my garden frequently this winter.

"Plectranthus", a mysterious figure in disguise, soars the air where I stand, just a few feet away from me... I know what he’s up to, but I don't have time to warn my little feathered friends... till suddenly a unison flight of tiny wings, tiny feathers scattering away, leaving behind a muted sound, like a sad song filled with premonition and death. Then I see it…. grayish black feathers and legs yellow drops from a low glide on something.... Tiny feathers disperse in the morning air, like diminutive butterflies... but I know it's not.

A new visitor then entered the scene... pointed beak to acts as both a chisel and a crowbar to remove bark and find hiding insects. I've never seen him here, what is he? An ivory-billed woodpecker... maybe?

The lure of the unexpected and the surprises that invariably appear in nature, entice me... invite me to linger a moment longer and look a little closer. I am blessed.

Winter cry

2009-12-16T20:06:00.000-08:00

Snow has wilted under rain; a frigid rain. Splish splash, my feet stumbling in dark puddles of water. This is not the rain I was born with—the balmy pouring rain of the tropics. Shall I pack my suitcase and leave this place to wander the land? Like a gypsy. Like a fairy gypsy forever in search of light.

Where do the Fae wait? Somewhere amidst the greenest of grasses abetted by the sun, of course. If you ever come to my garden in spring time you’ll see what I mean. In the light of the moon with a soft breeze blowing through the trees and flowers, if you are very quiet and cautious, you may witness the fairies laughing and dancing in a small clearing. I have seen the circles they leave in the grass from their joyful dancing on many occasions.

People once believed that mushrooms growing in a circle followed the path made by fairies dancing in a ring. But mushrooms are nowhere to be seen in my garden these days (why isn’t everybody going crazy over the vanishing of wild mushrooms?) Winter and dark cold nights don’t allow for this. And that’s the reason why faeries have to follow the way of the geeses during the arrival of fall.

They go away in the hope of finding beautiful meadows where the sun shines, and there are many thousands of flowers. The fairies that are left behind in this cold frigid land are never happy (have I said that before?) Poor dears, battling in the gale! Hail and ice, and ice and hail.

(Art from Flickr)