A Snow Day

Gently and softly it came. The rooms became brighter inside, and the distant hum of traffic stopped. Quietly cocooned, the garden was wrapped up in white. Snow had fallen.

It was that perfect kind. The type that makes the best snow balls and sled runs. I wondered which of the 'fifty words' I would use to best describe it.

'Picturesque through the wardrobe kind' where a white witch's wand could be imagined, left carelessly  upon a sleigh behind the frozen crab apple? 

Or the soft steps of Satyrs or Fauns awakening frozen fairy bells, as their hooves crackle, compressing a thousand snowflakes into the shape of a footprint. 

From the branches, Aslan's little helpers watched on.

Extra hungry on days such as these, so seconds and thirds were provided. 

Quite a covering for this old westerly part of the world.

And although the primroses are beginning to bloom. I have to admit that I would welcome another day of this winter world before the Spring arrives.

You can join me on a walk during my snow day, shared in the video below  :) 

The Well Earned Rest Of Plants and Trees

At the end of the old year, my yogi teabag shared with me some words of wisdom to begin the new one. I like these words. Perfect to begin again, letting go of the old that doesn't serve and opening yourself to the whole and the new. 

I don't really have any nuggets of wisdom from myself, but just hope this new year is filled with beautiful times, wonderful skies, happiness, flowers, good health, peace, lots of magic and creativity for all.

***

I have read quite a bit recently, of winters desolation. About the cold and loneliness and how everything has disappeared... It's strange as I don't see winter like this at all. I suppose I am one of the lucky ones that doesn't suffer from the lack of daylight hours. I love winter and savour it like every other season. Here, for me nothing has really disappeared. The blackbird is still pecking at the fallen crab apples that are composting and enriching the mossy ground beneath the branches. The wood pigeons still sit in their favourite places everyday. The blue tits, and finches are chasing each other around at the top of the hawthorn.  The jackdaws are as noisy as ever, sat upon the chimney pots and in and out of next doors roof. The rooks glossy indian ink coats, look glorious against the frosty landscape. And there are three robins in the garden now. At night the air is crisp, clean and clear. The sky is filled with stars and the early January moon is a silver sickle for Jack Frost to cut the frozen air. Venus below, sparkles, as if someone is holding a giant diamond and shining it to attract our attention a thousand years away...

In the early darkness the raspy bark of fox calls across the fields and a tawny owl sounds as if it is sat just outside the bathroom window. Inside I have found wasps sleeping in the folds of curtains and ladybirds in the window frame corners. In the shed there is a tortoiseshell butterfly dreaming of stretching it's wings on the first warm days. Everything is alive!
If you lift the old log, the woodlice are still there and so are the slugs and the snails and earthworms.   The trees and plants are enjoying their well earned rest, but if you are out and about each day you will see that not much else has really changed.

 Even the swans leave the pages of fairytales, just for a moment, to brighten the dark winter river. 

Happy New year!
X

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. ..

Eight Years Old and Song to the Sun's return

Today this blog is eight years old! Or should I say two? It was created on this day, the 29th February,  which of course only comes around every four years.

Back in 2008 I began it as a sort of visual diary really, just to record my creativity, places I visited and other bits and pieces along the way. I have never really been any good at keeping a diary, but the ability to upload pictures appealed to me and the journey began. I named it Moonlight and Hares because they were just two things that I loved and included in my paintings regularly. Back then my two hobbits were children and now they are both young adults. Time is so very precious isn't it. Time has changed the way we interact online. Many blogs that I used to read no longer exist and Facebook and Instagram have replaced some. But there is something strange and therapeutic and satisfying about keeping a blog. It is still my preferred social media, even if I don't post that often.

To celebrate the eight years I thought it would be nice to do a giveaway.

I've recently completed this painting. 'Song to the Sun's return' inspired by my January trip to Lapland.  

 I wanted to do this painting a little differently so the shape and some of the symbols are inspired by Sámi shaman drums. I have painted the sun symbol with real shell gold and to try and get the same effect, hand highlighted the prints in my shop with gold paint. 

If you would like the chance of winning a copy of this print, just follow and comment below. I will choose one winner next week sometime and announce it the next time I put up a blog post. Only comments published on this blog will be counted, as this give-away is to celebrate the blogs Birthday.

Good luck and thank you for reading! :-)

X 

A Trip to the North

'And so the time came for the white hare to journey north. Far away, high up above the arctic circle, to where the sun does not rise in winter time. To the land of the Lapland woman, the Finland woman and the Snow Queen. To where the wardrobe's door opens to an icy sparkling world. He had heard the song of the North call to him for so long and now the time was right'
                                                                      ~*~
Finnish Lapland. Two hundred and fifty kilometres above the Arctic circle, this is where I was lucky and grateful to begin the first week of the brand new year. An adventure in a magical snowy land. The land of my dreams. A place where after only a few minutes outside, my hair and eyelashes had turned white with ice. A cosy log cabin, our home for seven days. A cabin that I wanted to continue living in and take home with me by the end of the week.

Inside the cabin was warm and cosy with a log burner and a weeks worth of wood outside on the porch.

The white hare stood out in the cold snow beneath the starlight and whispered to the sky. His words were carried up into the polar night. He told of a robin that knew the secrets of old and silently the lady Aurora answered with the most beautiful reply' 

Our first night we were blessed and saw the Aurora borealis right above our cabin. A milky green rose up and arched across the sky. I hadn't realised that she moved so quickly. A shape almost creature like, tip toed sideways above us. Walking diagonally she swished her tail as if to say 'here I am'
The Finnish term for the Northern Lights is 'Revontulet' meaning fox fire, which comes from an old tale where the fox was believed to swish its bushy tail on the snowy fell landscapes, throwing sparks into the air. (would love to incorporate that into a painting at some time. :))
That first night I was unable to capture any pictures. Results on my camera were totally black blanks of night sky and so was my iPad. Only my daughter seemed able to catch them on her phone.
So, the next night, after a day of cross country skiing I set my camera up on a different setting and crossed my fingers that she would return again...
She did, out of the seven days we were so so lucky to get glimpses four days out of the seven.  Pictures are blurry as I literally just held my camera to the sky and tried to hold it still. I had no tripod or any fancy gear.

'And she danced, swirling her green gown across a sparkling sky. The white hare watched in wonder and all that he had imagined became reality'

Aurora over the cabin...

In the morning at about 8.30am-9am with a beautiful crescent moon.

The morning walk to ski.

Father Christmas was no where to be seen. Taking a much needed break I'm sure! 

A week filled with hot chocolate, hot berry juice, elves, reindeer, twinkling lights, crackling of log fire, crunch of snow and the clear cold air of the north, in my lungs. 

One afternoon, out in the forest, when already darkness was approaching. We met some reindeer.

In a wooden sleigh lined with a reindeer skin and a thick blanket to cover, we were transported through the forest pulled by a white reindeer that looked as if he had stepped straight out of the pages of a fairytale. The heavenly arctic twilight cast a spell on me as the sleigh pulled and creaked like frosted branches on a windy night. It was at this moment that I knew that the Snow queen would have me in her grasp forever. The magic had entered my eyes and the North would always be pulling me back.
The temperature on our journey was -33, so it was quite difficult to uncover my fingers to take photographs and hold the camera still.

In the forest the white hare met a reindeer, who told him how the Snow Queen had tricked him. How a spell had been cast and how now she would own part of his heart forever.

When the journey was finished, darkness was almost upon us. We went into a cabin for hot berry juice and cake.

Inside I learned a little about reindeer and Sami people. How they freely roam the forest, how the deer that pull the sleighs are only male. The amazing fact that reindeer can see the white moss and lichen that they dig up and eat beneath the snow, using ultra violet light and how each single strand of their hair/fur is filled with air, which is why it keeps them so warm in the cold. I got to feel the antlers that are shed each year. I would never have believed the male ones were so heavy. I learned how the clothing colours of the Sami people tell which area they are from and even if they are married or single. 

Outside in the snow the ice sparkles. Tiny diamond glints mesmerise and whisper... do not go home, stay...stayyyy with us...

High on top of the fell was Narnia.  Amazingly beautiful! A wonderland.

And a frozen cafe that looked as if it belonged on the top of an iced Christmas cake.  How warm it was inside though, with an open fire.

Far up in the northern lands where darkness is more abundant in the winter months how clever Mother nature is. Such balance of dark and light. Dark, yet then the light from the pure white of snow. Dark and yet, the magical dance of polar light in the sky...

'The white hare returned home, leaving part of his heart behind in the Snow Queens' keeping. And on nights when the stars shone bright and there was ice on the ground he felt the missing part pulling him like a sting of a white bee' 

Now here at home, when I look up at the seven stars of the plough from my garden, on clear starry nights. I will remember the North and it will remind me to return one day. I have to, as how can I live without all of my heart?

X