Tuesday, 27 December 2011

Yuletide Blessings

Wishing you a belated Yuletide, beautiful creatures. I hope you spent the day feeling light-hearted and merry. Love to all of you.


I left offerings for the little people; a cup of rose petals, roasted dinner and cinnamon stars, mince pie, a yellow rose (for joy and friendship) and a musical flower fairy water globe.

Thursday, 24 November 2011

Upon A Feathered Wing

I have been drinking up fairytales as of late. I adore the fairy books of Andrew Lang and recently discovered ‘The Crow’. While it does not fit with my painting, I wanted to share a small excerpt as it reminds me of stories that lull you to sleep on the night of a full moon.

"Once upon a time there were three Princesses who were all three young and beautiful; but the youngest, although she was not fairer than the other two, was the most loveable of them all.

About half a mile from the palace in which they lived there stood a castle, which was uninhabited and almost a ruin, but the garden which surrounded it was a mass of blooming flowers, and in this garden the youngest Princess used often to walk.

One day when she was pacing to and fro under the lime trees, a black crow hopped out of a rose-bush in front of her. The poor beast was all torn and bleeding, and the kind little Princess was quite unhappy about it. When the crow saw this it turned to her and said:

'I am not really a black crow, but an enchanted Prince, who has been doomed to spend his youth in misery. If you only liked, Princess, you could save me. But you would have to say good-bye to all your own people and come and be my constant companion in this ruined castle. There is one habitable room in it, in which there is a golden bed; there you will have to live all by yourself, and don't forget that whatever you may see or hear in the night you must not scream out, for if you give as much as a single cry my sufferings will be doubled.'

The good-natured Princess at once left her home and her family and hurried to the ruined castle, and took possession of the room with the golden bed..."

You can read the rest of the tale here : The Yellow Fairy Book

Saturday, 5 November 2011


My newest drawing is inspired by shape shifting figures in mythology and folklore.

Melusine; a spirit of the ocean, half woman and half fish. She is imprisoned by her metamorphosis and may only transform back into her human form when the moon is full. Her facial features are based on a photograph of my darling friend Vada. However, I'm not sure that it truly captures her beauty.

This is the first of many in a series of shapeshifter portraits. I will be creating owl, raven, deer, fox, wolf, panther and swan.


Sunday, 23 October 2011

September's Alchemy

"I must be a mermaid... I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living." ~ Anais Nin.
I apologise for such a long absence, sometimes it is difficult to overcome the swamps of sadness but autumn has lifted my spirits and the world is beautiful again. I hope your days are filled with blessings, magic and wonder.

Reveries of beautiful autumn days when the sun forks the sky, a parliament of rooks, sacred waterfalls, quarter moon over the valley of waning pink light, hay bales in a field deserted of cows, a barn owl calling to the moon, over forty swans gliding on Malpas river, the distinct song of a curlew, atmospheric dark moon, castle ruins, shops selling crystals, spheres, scrying balls, potions, fetishes, athames, silver ritual jewellery, books and dream catchers…

Nature Diary :

September 11th
Today; walking in the eerily silent wood, feeding brown bread to a family of swans, a tiny faery ring of mushrooms at the base of a tree, the expanse wings of a crane as it flew up into the bleak sky, taking photographs of angel gravestones, a dove’s nest in the roof of a church, waves crashing against the blowing hole, fishermen perched on the treacherous rocks, a misty haze settling over the land before the storm rolled in…

September 12th
Revels under a harvest moon. Isolated beach, cool night air, lapping of waves, imagining buoys to look like seals bobbing their heads, twirling carefree on the shore, luminous light from moored ships, no cacophony of ducks from the still lake opposite, silence…

September 17th
Perfect ending to the day. My love and I sighted the ivory silhouettes of swans gliding down the river, ethereal on moonlit water. They floated downriver towards us and clambered onto the marshy shore where we threw them pieces of leftover sandwiches.

September 29th
Today I fell down a rabbit hole and found myself in mushroom land. I glimpsed hawthorn trees with lichen and red berries, faerie rings of earth coloured mushrooms, water lilies on a dragonfly pond, yellowing leaves and a stoat skull.

Monday, 26 September 2011

Wednesday, 3 August 2011

The Siren

I met a lady of the ocean, she spoke in an unknown tongue but I acquired her name; Marina.
I couldn’t help but glance at her tail, however she did not have one for she was no mermaid. You may have heard legends of beautiful sea nymphs luring sailors to their death; capturing a seafarers heart with their enchanting songs.
Marina was a Siren, and she was unlike what I had envisioned. Her voice made me think of lullabies, soft chiming bells and woods bathed in moonlight. She was a shy and gentle creature, with tangled pale hair and intense blue eyes.
This is her ephemeral tale of how she became stranded on a stranger tide :

"I woke from a fitful sleep to find myself on the oceanfront, tangled in seaweed, coral and gull feathers. I stood up slowly to gather my bearings but the land was unfamiliar to me. I observed tall ships and fishermen with crab pots in the distance, huge rocks jutting out of the water and a tiny cove.
I decided to swim to the cove as I had no means of getting past the ships without being seen. I found the beach to be populated with mortals, so I hid behind a rock to await their departure.

Dusk descended and I felt it was safe to walk ashore, but I had a sudden recollection which made me stop in my tracks.
I remembered a vision of my sisters conspiring to strip me of my powers and voice, surely that was but a nightmare. I turned back to face the ocean, to dangle one foot in the welcoming water but I felt a force field repress my movements. The sky grew dark and no moon emerged to guide the way. I must be cursed to spend the rest of eternity on land.


For days I wandered like a lost soul; concealing myself in caves when the tide was low and balancing on a precipice to test the gift of flight.
I cradled my sea stars and shells, and longed for water. On one distinctly beautiful evening when the sun was close to setting, I tried to sing a simple melody.
I knew in my heart that my voice had waned the very day I was washed ashore.

I grew to love the creatures that visited me on my cliff top dwelling; black backed gulls, grass snakes, hawks and cormorants. The birds brought me small fish to eat, and I collected rain water in shells and rock crevices. Men at sea would often point in my direction while I bathed, but they never believed what they saw.
Sunrise was the highlight of my brief spell on mortal soil. Each morning I listened to the birds wake from their slumber, and begin their daily hunt for sustenance. The waves crashed freely against the rocks and passers-by took photographs of the heather decorating the cliffs and the picturesque scenery beyond. I was nonexistent to them, or perhaps that was another element of my curse; to be unknown.

I had been sat amongst the coarse grass peacefully meditating when I heard footsteps drawing near. I turned my head slightly to witness a girl and her loved one gazing at my still form. The girl smiled and took out a camera from the bag she carried.
I knew instantaneously that perhaps I had been exiled from water to befit a greater purpose; to exist as muse and reverie for a narrative that needed to blossom."

Tuesday, 2 August 2011

Sunset over Cow and Calf Rock

Blessings ~

Found eggshells; dove, sparrow and snake, three ivory swan feathers that shimmer iridescent, a tiny cove with treacherous waters, nomads wandering on the cliffs, snakes camouflaged in long wild grass, aubergine, ochre and burgundy coloured heather adorning the exposed rock face, collecting feathers from the edge of a lake, receiving handwritten letters, stones from a metaphysical shop; amethyst, moonstone, bloodstone and rose quartz, sea fog rolling inland, mist ridden shores {reminded me of a post apocalyptic landscape}, rooks awaiting a supper of discarded fish and chips, baby gulls testing shallow waters for the first time, limpets and sea anemones clinging to a cave wall, a carpet of edible mussels spread across the rocks and a murky pool of sea algae, crabs and tiny silver fish darting from one place to another.


Monday, 1 August 2011

Lady of the Forest

The ancient spirits of the forest presented the mortal woman with an elixir.


She was wandering alone as the sun dipped below the trees and the fog rolled in from the ocean. The forest awakened from the sound of rustling leaves, bird song and two dogs chasing a petrified fox.
Faerie remained on the periphery of her vision; she glimpsed the world in-between but had no means of reaching the celestial dwelling.
Three shadowy figures materialised in the distance, they appeared to be observing her but she was certain they posed no threat. As they drifted forward, the vast expanse of their wings shimmered behind them...


Monday, 25 July 2011

Keeper of the Nest

Owls are powerful and wise hunters. Many of them are nocturnal moon gazing birds but some are active during the twilight hours of dawn and dusk.
The snowy owl is a guardian, she watches over the small faerie and the nest. The eggs in the nest are unfamiliar, but grow stronger as each day passes, waiting to begin the circle of life.
I painted this as a gift for someone dear to me. She was attentive for many a year and I will never forget her kindness.

Sunday, 24 July 2011

Badger, Sketchbook and Greeting Cards

The badger is a brave and noble fellow,
A creature of the night with a heart of gold,
He wanders along desolate misty roads,
Searching for stories and tales to be told,

On his midnight voyage to the fields,
He meets hedgehog, rabbit and fox,
Following the trail of slugs and snails,
He stumbles upon a box,

Three birds flew into the sky,
Snow-coloured, graceful and free,
He looked up with curiosity in his eyes,
Before disappearing into the hollow of a tree.

Saturday, 9 July 2011

The Wild and Windswept Moors

As above, so below.

To celebrate my love’s twenty fourth summer, we journeyed to the wild and windswept moors in search of myth and magic. Following the meandering tarmac road that passed worn out urban landscapes, china clay waste tips, quaint rivers and the beautiful looming forest of Cardinham we entered the frontier of Arthurian legend.

Observations along the way :
A country lane on higher ground overlooking a private wooded valley
Picturesque hamlets with churches and old fashioned inns
Farms with ‘honey for sale’
The ravenous cry of a buzzard
Reservoirs and lakes (fathomless and eerily silent)
Wild animals eating grass on the thoroughfare
Dozmary Pool (glacial in origin and home to many a tale)

Arriving in the village of Minions, we found a spot to park the car and began our quest for ancient history. The expanse views of moor land were breathtaking, elements felt heightened and the earth underfoot drummed with energy (or at least you could envisage this happening on pagan sabbats).

The Hurlers is a unique Bronze Age monument consisting of a set of three standing stone circles. Legend has it that the stone circles at Minions are made up of men who were turned to stone by a humourless priest. Instead of attending church on the Sabbath, the local villagers were found playing a game known as ‘hurling’. Just away from The Hurlers stand The Pipers, two more standing stones believed to be the remains of musicians who played whilst the villagers hurled.

Everything felt natural and sacred; animals left free to roam with human beings, a patch of foxgloves where the cattle grazed, horses with their foals, rook perched on an outcrop of granite, skylarks, jackdaw nest, moss and lichen, marshes, mires and disused mine shafts where greater horseshoe bats roost.
After stumbling upon sheep bones, fur and feathers we observed the majestic granite quarry and tower of stones in the distance.

The Cheesewring is a natural tower of balanced granite stones that have been eroded over the centuries. The stones are precariously balanced on top of one another, some of which are over thirty feet in circumference. The name derives from its resemblance to stack of ‘cheeses’ - pulped apples in cloth bags that are used to press cider.

There are several fables regarding the stones; it was thought by many that these natural rock formations had originally been built by druids or formed in the time of giants and saints.

Legend tells of a dramatic fight between the giants (Uther) and saints (St. Tue). Fed up with the saints claiming ownership of land which had been theirs for centuries, the giants challenged them to a stone-throwing contest. St. Tue vowed that if the Giants won, all the Saints would leave these shores forever, but if he won the Giants must mend their errant ways, and hereafter follow the sign of the cross. In spite of the fact that the giants were superior in size, the saints managed to throw larger rocks onto the giant’s smaller ones with help from the angels. The saints won the contest and the giant Uther promised to abandon his sinful ways.


The wild moors and ancient stones of Bodmin are spoken of in many tales and legends. Wayfarers now think of the moor as the haunt of smugglers; an untamed, windy and desolate wilderness. Many creatures inhabit the land; piskies, the little people, giants and beasts. The oldest stories have been passed down for centuries, transforming with each retelling. There are tales of giants who lived on Cornish hilltops, changelings, witchcraft, ghosts and the devil.

Sunday, 3 July 2011

3 Wishes Faery Festival

My dear friend Amy and I braved the elements for the first gathering of the fae clans in the ancient kingdom of Dumnonia. The festival welcomed kin from all over the globe… Mermaids, pirates, elves, highwaymen, dryads, tree spirits, small pixies, spriggans, faeries, banshees, shape shifters, wizards, goblins, kindred folk, ethereal maidens, satyrs, noble earth mothers, wild witch women…

We pitched our tiny tents by a faerie mound and the rain lashed down for two days and two nights making us believe we were at sea. Fire and flame warmed us at nightfall; a tribe of faeries huddled around the welcoming campfire, singing songs and sharing tales.

Cedar trees and a beautiful shell and crystal mermaid throne sheltered the lawn where the magic flowed free. There was a vegan café that offered bean burgers, paella, salad and pitta bread, beautiful stalls that sold trinkets and oddities, clothing, wings, crystals and healing stones, flower circlets, dream catchers, art and books, nomads selling their wares, travellers from afar, teepees, the giggling goblin bar (a cosy retreat with potions aplenty), wild sheep and deer, ancient woodland and folly, castle ruins, secret coves, workshops to decorate wings, wands and headdresses, belly dancing and hula hooping, fire faeries twirling and a trooping procession of male fae.

Sweet music often filled the air; men with drums, pipes, guitars, tin whistles and rhyme… Women with flutes, bells, ocarinas, tambourines, song and dance.

Happy Midsummer! x

Friday, 1 July 2011

Mother Nature

Two foxes bathing in the sun warmed valley, white geese, aylesbury ducks gliding along a salt water lake, the family of swans at swanpool - all six cygnets flourishing, moorhens and their young - selfless parents scouring the ground for bread and seed to feed their little ones, coots, rock-climbing near the depths of ocean, birds nest in the roof of a church, silver birch trees, collecting leaves, silent graveyard and a tiny lifeless fledgling {I placed a flower next to its still body}.