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)