Fly Free with the Stars Little Shining One

The day is warm and bright. It's only February but feels like April today. The trees are filled with Robin song. There are four in the garden now, swift, full of energy and zest for life, darting from tree to tree, chasing one another beginning the Spring dance. I stand at the sink washing up the breakfast cups and plates and glance out of the window. High up in next doors pear tree sits a little red breasted soul serenading me with morning beauty.

After finishing the washing up, I wander into the garden hoping for a glimpse of my special Robin friend, but sadly my little tame Robin Goodfellow has disappeared... It's been almost a month now since I last saw him and now fear that the winter queen may have fallen in love with him and her icicle hands have gently stolen him away. Did she release him to fly up into the silver light of the January sun. Did she whisper to him to fly higher and higher, up to where the rainbows are born, so that when the red of dawn rises and golden sun sets, my red breasted feathered friend will shine his light   forever, for all to see.

Although my heart hurts that I may not see my little friend again, I am also filled with a deep joy at having been so blessed to have shared so many days with him  and to have earned his trust and friendship. I have shed tears for him before. I buried him, or one that I thought was him. A tiny feathered body laid down to rest in a grave filled with primrose petals last Spring. I remember sitting sadly on the wood stump later that afternoon, only to look up and see my friend gazing down at me from a branch. What's wrong, his intelligent bead like eyes questioned, here I am... 

They had looked so much alike, I kept a feather. Now I will wear it. A feather from a brother or sister, in a silver locket beside a picture of my sweet friend. 

Of course I'm secretly hoping that he may have taken wing to find new territory, or paired up already with a mate? But as I mentioned before Christmas, sadly he was losing feathers around his head and neck which probably made him vulnerable to the cold? Only time will tell... 

And so the garden life goes on, filled with chatter of a new season, but it feels lonely without my friend to greet me each day and follow me around for snippets of cheese and mealworms. I miss the way he would sometimes try to stop me leaving the garden, by sitting on the gate while I opened it on my way to the post office, as if to say... hey, feed me first before you go. :-) 

                                          Robin Goodfellow when I first met him September 2014

That first week when he disappeared, was it really just my imagination that the birds were singing more loudly as I walked from tree to tree looking for a sign of him. It felt as if they knew and were somehow telling me? The blackbird whom my Robin was often seen with, was perching near to another much younger looking Robin, with looks so similar to a young Robin Goodfellow. Could it be a son that his ebony friend is now keeping a fatherly eye on? I like to think so. 

And do you know, within a few days this new young robin had already come up to me and taken food from my hand. Now surely that must mean he has watched his father do it? 

The clouds have almost all blown away now and the sky is a clear forgetmenot blue. 

I will leave you with a small film clip which was the day before Christmas eve 2016.  A magical moment, when he let me stroke him. I believe it was my Christmas present? :-) 

'Fly free with the stars little shining one'

December Trees and Woodland Decorations

December beauty, away from the tinsel and lights and Christmas tunes that play on a loop in the shops. The apple trees have their own tinsel all year round, silvery bleached greens of lichen, emerald green moss and boozy fermented crab apples that have stayed firm and clung on in the wind. 

I have grown attached to these trees and others in the garden. I have known them now for 18 years. They are friends and I speak to them and tell them they are looking beautiful as the seasons change. I have watched them grow. Some are old and some not so, (the Hazel we grew from a nut) My children have played beneath them, had picnics, camped and climbed the bigger ones and they have grown up with them.  Now they are young adults and the trees are still here watching quietly when they return home, growing their apples, nuts and berries. The wood pigeons have their favourite perch and the blackbird and robin use all. The thrush likes to use the top branches of the cherry tree to sing his evensong. I have told my woody friends about other trees I've met on my travels, about the small twisted oaks in Wistmans Wood with the lichen as long as faerie hair and I'm sure they seemed to have grown their lichen more abundantly since the tale was told?

When I was a child running and playing in woods and jumping streams, we used the language of the field. Our maps were plotted out using the trees, the big beech on the edge of the wood, that my Mum had carved her initials in when she was a child, the huge elm we made a swing on. We knew which nut tree gave the best harvest, whether they were small clusters, fivers, or large cobs, We knew where the walnut tree was and the cherry trees and where the best apples were to scrump and our meeting place was the lightening tree, an old dead tree, bleached like a bone, that had been struck by lightning years before. And a holly tree always held a certain magic to me, a feeling I could never really explain? Now  I am lucky to have three of them in this garden.

December is the only time of year when we bring a tree 'intact' inside our home, to decorate and hang beautiful things on in celebration. It's also the time when trees are revealed again. Their silhouettes return us to the winter landscape once more and their real beauty is uncovered. Winter light and shadows on sleeping trees and icy bare branches. One of my loves of Winter. Everything is framed so perfectly.

Although I love the frost and cold. I'm hoping this year for milder days. Robin Goodfellow my dear feathered friend, I think has mites? He is scratching and losing his feathers which of course is not a good thing to do at this time of year. It is either that or fighting, as I've seen him chasing another Robin off.  Constant replenishing of food will help to keep him warm. I can't help but worry though. He needs a scarf like you see the Robins on Christmas cards wearing... Sadly he doesn't look the picture perfect 'Robin on the card' this year but that's life, I still love him dearly however he looks.  

Inside the house, I have brought the woodland in. Toadstools, birds, fox , squirrel and deer decorate the room.  

Now if only Robin would come in and keep warm like this other one. 

I don't normally have flowers with the Christmas decorations, but it was my Birthday the other day, hence the ones on the table.  :)

The little fir tree sits twinkling in the corner. Just the mistletoe to get now. ..

October

A misty October morning, bright with the promise of a clear new day. 

The trees are still holding their leaves close, it has been mild and dry and warm for this time of year.  The bare bones of branch will be revealed soon, when the whisperings of Winter become more frequent. No significant frosty mornings here yet... just mist and damp and that silvery light that I love so.

Before the dawn a shower of rain fell. In the garden water droplets pose ready to drop and replenish a tiny patch of earth or give morning refreshment to an insect or bird. 

Fairy necklaces have been born of clever spiders and now drape from stem to stem. Beaded and sparkling water diamonds, fit for the Faerie Queen herself.

Each handmade strand stretching here and there and connecting from leaf to stem, stem to flower, flower to hedge, hedge to branch and from branch to tree. All over the countryside, villages, towns, cities, and gardens almost invisible silken strands link and connect mostly without us noticing. Like our own lives do.    

Natures beauty is transcendent.

Inside... I brought the Autumn with me. Not the cobwebs, I have them already... ;) A big bunch of rose hips. Normally I always leave them for the birds, but this year there were so many berries in the garden and this bush had got so tall, it was due a little cut back to help it bush up and shoot from the bottom next year.  

Apples were picked and brought in too, for pies.

The rose hips also had another purpose as well as looking wonderful and seasonal, they were needed for a painting...

'The Shining Ones'    

               

The painting was based on a rough drawing that has been in my sketchbook for several years. I often work like that and go back to something which wasn't finished, or an idea that has quickly been jotted down and left for another day.  'The Shining Ones' is available to buy as a print here.

My little shining ray of light, I am pleased to say is still here. Although sometimes he would prefer not to have his photograph taken.

Other times he isn't bothered. :)

Other work that has  recently been completed, was another old one that was half done and left to linger beneath a fine layer of dust and a home to a spider. It's of Robin Good fellows dear friend the Wren. Such a small bird but oh so noisy in the hedgerow.

'Little King' 

Little King is also available to buy as a print in my shop and there will be some cards coming soon too.

Karen 
X

Hello September

Memories of early summer flower days lie in a seashell on my table. How fleeting they seem now that September has arrived with her hedgerows heavy with blackberries, the early morning mists, rosy ripe apples and hips and haws.  

August was sunny and busy, and I never did get around to doing a blog post. And then I caught a horrid cough and my voice almost disappeared and I didn't feel like doing anything for a while.
It's always hard to try and cram all things into a post when you haven't done one in a while, so instead of doing that I thought I'd share some of the magical moments that I've had since I was last on here.
There was a trip to Brownsea island

Where I chatted with a peacock

And while we sat there on the beach for a while with our simple picnic of sandwiches and flask of tea, something magical and beautiful happened. Out of nowhere it seemed she appeared, a deer walking towards us on the waters edge.

Not a care for humans having picnics, but searching it seemed for something or someone? She walked past us, stopping, then wading out to deeper waters, looking, then carried on. 

It was one of those moments when you are just there and are not expecting anything at all, then something wonderful and quite extraordinary happens. :)

My feet have been recharged in the wild Atlantic's Cornish rock pools .

Beneath the water they have heard the sea weed whispers and the crackles and pops of the limpet and mussel.

And through their soles they've soaked up the salty song of the sea.  I think they may even have heard a Selkie too?

And I swam and played in the wild waves like the seals that we saw. My selkie skin took the useful form of a wet suit. 
Dreams and sleep beneath stars and the milky way, cut off from the mainland on an island.

Where a giants heart lies in stone.

  Golden magic from the top of a castle.

And a phoenix in the sky...

***

Perseid meteor shower gazing in the garden can be added to the moments ( did you see them?) and the rescue of a weasel behind the sofa! :-) I hope you, dear readers whatever you have been doing, also saw a little magic in August.
                                                                                 ***
Now September is here and the sweet peas are still blooming. Mr Robin Good fellow has come out from hiding in the bushes during his annual feather moult and is very pleased with his new set.

I have been working on some hangers which I'll be back to share soon. In the meantime, will leave you with my new 2017 Calendar which is available now to buy in my shop here.

Happy September! X