The Snowflake fey

 

                                                                                                                  

       The Snowflake Fey has a story to tell you.
Once upon a time she met another Fey who...well, he just plain adored her.
He wrote her love poems, gathered posies to scatter at her feet, and made her a mean meatloaf.
She told him that she loved him too, but she didn't really.
She did love the idea that someone adored her though and encouraged his adoration.
After a time,
She felt perhaps that with her good looks,
and lively spirit
that she could maybe do better...after all...he was not a rich and handsome Fey,
and Love comes easily doesn't it?
So she spurned his advances,
turned away his kisses and love, and fed the meatloaf to the ravens.
As Fate would have it,
The North Wind Fey chanced to observe her behavior,
and chanced to observe the tears of his son, The Summer Breeze Fey,
whose heart she had broken.
With a frosty breath he turned his son's tears into snowflakes
and then tasked the Snowflake Fey with guiding those snowflake tears into the eyes of lovers as they are about to be kissed.
The Snowflake Fey has a chance to be released from her sentence with your help.
On a winters day, when perchance a snowflake lands in your eye, take the hand of your beloved and kiss them sweetly.
She is nearly free of this curse, and has only a 100 more snowflakes to go before she can love again.
Although I think her chances with the Summer Breeze Fey are Zip.
She is 8.5 inches tall

My Christmas Story

 

               This Lovely elf reminds me so much of my cousin Claude that I named him Claude. My cousin does not have a beard or a pink tree, nor is he an elf.
There is something about his eyes though that make me think of him.
Something kind in them, and forgiving.
Why would I need forgiveness from my cousin, you may be thinking?
Well, I will make this story brief, but long ago when I was young,
my cousin Claude and my brother and I were playing Cowboys and Indians.
They were Cowboys and I was the Indian.
( not politically correct anymore I know, but nevertheless true)
I had a bow and arrow that I had made from scratch....being crafty even as an 8 year old.
The day was going pretty well until the "Cowboys" decided that they would run off to the "Secret Fort," some where I was not actually invited to, destination "BOYS ONLY."
Off they ran, leaving me yelling "Wait up!"
As I watched the boney shoulders of my cousin running up the hill away from me, I was seized by a terrible rage, and impulsively drew out my bow and arrow, and shot him.
As it was a homemade arrow, and somewhat rickety, it only stuck in a little bit, but felled him nicely.
I did have some mixed feelings about this...horror at my own accuracy, remorse and fear that I had killed my cousin, as my Brother was announcing loudly with a dirty finger pointed at me.
I do recall that I got quite a whipping over this, and also overheard my Dad say proudly to my Mom, "Our Robbie Les is quite a shot."
So that is my Christmas story.
Well, its a story and I told it at Christmas.
Claude is made of muslin and calico. He has a needle sculpted face and a wool beard. he has been coffee dyed , baked and painted.
There is a right side leaning pink brush tree next to him.
They have been handily glued to a piece of horse chestnut that I understand you can't get anymore, that measures about 6.5 inches long.
Merry Christmas.
P.S. I am not in jail, and my cousin was fine. I saw him some years back and he somehow didn't even remember this story. (PTSD I guess)

The Petal Dreams

 

                          

Some long time ago,
and she cannot say exactly when,
she accepted the end of the summer garden.
She does not believe that she will have the scent of lobelia again,
or tangle with the invasive mint, or feel the furry leaves of the lambs ears.
Or feel the bees buzz her cheek, or wait upon the opening rose bud.
She dwells now in Petal Dreams,
a place in her thoughts she does not share as longing with others.
Imagine the surprise
and the stretching of her heart,
the swelling with joy,
the fulfillment
when spring comes
and another chapter is written.
Petal dreams is made of muslin and calico, and has been coffee dyed baked and painted.
Her sheep hair is sewn to her head.
Her trims are vintage lace and hand dyed rayon seam binding. She is dressed with vintage rose leaves and Mulberry flowers. Her wings are wedding net and moss ribbon.
She is 9.5 inches tall.

The Path to Blairsville

I recently traveled to Blairsville, Georgia to participate in the Sorghum festival. I have been wanting to do some shows outside and thought I would combine my longing to see my daughter Friedel, who lives in Seattle, with a love of the autumn leaves...it seemed like a win-win situation.
Friedel flew into Tampa, Florida and I picked her up in the Queen Victoria, my mini van, nicknamed Vicki.
If this all seems a bit flat, hang in there I am trying to get to the good part...
We did a bit of  Cracker Barrel Pub Crawl, stopping for lunch and again for dinner on the way there. It was nice but kinda predictable, hovering around the gift shop looking at sweaters I wanted but wished were 50% off.
I didn't buy any and I didn't let Friedel buy any either.
We got to Atlanta, and decided since we were having a grand adventure to take the Bypass around it. I usually go straight through, and just grit my teeth. Then I take 575 up to 515 and head to Blue Ridge. By the time we get to the cabin we have rented it is usually late and I am tired.
this time was a little different.
Friedel has an I-phone and I have a smart phone as well, so I wasn't too concerned when we got off on I-85 somehow. Went right to Gainesville, Georgia. I am so glad that I didn't have a map because looking at it now kinda freaks me out...because we were far from where we needed to be...I think at some point we took 11 and traveled its dark and lonely country path into the night to Turners Corner...where we couldn't get reception any more on our smart ass phones. It was about 9 o'clock...I got gas although I didn't need it...just comforted me to have a bulging tank of gasoline as a defense against this endless road I guess. I went into the Valero store and asked for directions and some hope that we weren't hopelessly lost. A word I don't use too much.
The lovely woman at the counter said I was about an hour from Blairsville. She smiled when I said "THAT LONG?"
She was sweet when she said that the trip would be shorter if we didn't have to cross Blood Mountain and that there were a lot of switch backs that slowed you down.
Blood Mountain?
So, Off we went.
I grew up in the country and I know that the nights are dark.
We traveled 129 I think, going north and slightly east.
We crossed Blood Mountain.
It was about 10 o'clock at night. Friedel said I had lost my neck because my shoulders had risen in tension up to my earlobes.
I began a singular dialogue with my car Vicki, and Friedel seemed to punctuate the road and my dialogue with a variety of appropriate songs on the radio.
Or those songs were sent to her from a guardian angel with a fabulous sense of humor. At one point we were climbing a very steep grade with switch backs on Blood Mountain with Highway to the danger Zone from Top Gun blaring. I haven't laughed so hysterically in long time. Not predictable. This was not the Cracker Barrel Pub Crawl.
We rounded a corner and passed a vehicle facing us on the opposite side of the shoulder with a smashed windscreen.
Decided to go back and see if there was someone who needed help.
Creepy now...
middle of the mountain, difficult to turn around. managed it.
relieved to see a pink ticket on the car, marking it as illegally parked instead of severed heads and limbs hanging zombie style from the rear view mirror.
Turned around again.
Crested the top and shot over the top after reading the run away truck sign.
Great!
Down we went. Hysterical laughter.
More crazy song narration.
Our cabin was in Owl town. It was on the south east side of Blairsville and Thank you God on the path we wee traveling.
Followed the directions to Wilson Mountain...narrow leafy mountain tracks...
Arrived.
Hysterical laughter.

So its been a long time since my last post.
We have had many things happen in the Land of the Baggaraggs. My son and his girl moved home and we have had a new grandchild, a sweet little baby girl; Claire.
I am sharing studio space with my grandson Rowen. Its cramped and at times my studio bursts out and takes over other spaces in the house.
My husband was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease this summer.
We are trying to get that sorted,
but for the time being he is not taking any medication.
This is hard.
I have recently returned from a trip to Blairsville Georgia where I participated in the Sorghum Festival. I spent 6 glorious days with my daughter Friedel. She flew into Tampa from Seattle and I picked her up. We had a fabulous time, and although my sales were nothing to brag about, we met lovely people and had so much fun...until she missed her plane home.
Bit of a miscalculation on my part driving to the Atlanta airport.
So how is everyone? tell me all.
I have been writing so much in my mind all year...that's the way my thoughts work, so I am happy to be back writing things down again.
I hope you are all well. Love, Robin

sunrise in Blairsville Georgia.

The fairie File #7

It is the Evergreen season and many creatures and trees are sleeping.
Not the Fey.
They are industriously making their somethings out of nothings, a Fey Principle if their ever was one.
This Fairie File is made from Scrapbook paper serged together and has a brown bag scrap of paper that has had the edges serged as well that would be Lovely for writing a special message to someone loved. It can also be used as a place of storing something magical. It is closed with a serged strip of paper bag secured with a
feather clip.
It is 6 inches wide by 5 inches tall.