The Shapeshifter's Moon

This morning, I peered out of the windowpane and discovered a winter wonderland. The thunder gods awakened a blizzard during the early hours.
The muted colours of autumn have faded and the cold draws near.
Ice lingers on branches, and flurries of snow descend gracefully. There is not even a glimpse of sunshine and a veil of frosted white covers the sky.
The frost giants traipse through the snowfall as a lonely crow takes to the air.

The Forest of Stories

Companions in the snow.


The Troll Woods ~

Walk past the three witches tree and the cluster of birch
There is an archway of tangled nettles, crouch underneath and be wary of the thorns
They like to ensnare the curious wayfarer
Dusk is beginning to approach
You do not wish to be wandering in the
forest at nightfall

Stumble down a mud streaked slope where you will see a path winding its way through the thicket
Follow the trail but do not turn back
The trees whisper as you pass
Their moss covered branches closing in

Pine needles are soft underfoot as you draw near to the mire
Cross the stepping stones through the foul swamp but beware of trickery
The mire is endless and you will be lost forever

You have approached the troll gate
One door will lead you to the realm
And the other door will lead to nowhere
Make your choice or leave it to chance

*
Wandering through the woods... leaves are crisp underfoot and I pay heed to the cacophony of rooks in the branches, waiting in the wings for a trail of bread crumbs. Two swans, elegant but greedy, waddle out of the lake. Their graceful, ivory wings arching behind them. A tiny robin flew over to my outstretched hand, hovered in the air for a few seconds before brushing its downy feathers against my skin. 

Autumn Faerie

Archways of leaves, autumnal colours; burgundy, copper, ochre, gold, windswept barren fields, collecting pumpkins from a farm, sunshine and bitter winds, apple trees, fairs, hibernation, squirrels burying fallen acorns, all hallows eve, forests ablaze with golden light, pine needles underfoot, woollen cloaks, horse drawn carriages, will o’ the wisps, the witching hour, spectres, pyres, warm blankets and piles of books.

Harvest, early sunsets, bats flitting across the sky, fly agaric mushrooms red, shivering trees, revels in the moonlight, glimpses of faery dances, flickering candles and ghost stories, shooting stars by the ocean, mist pockets, fox shaped silhouettes, country lanes enshrouded by fog, eerie twinkling music, guises, jack o’ lanterns to ward off evil spirits, the waning moon, beware the shadows drawing in. 

Unseelie Tales

She discovered a hagstone amidst a scattering of chestnuts. It made her think of the doorway into faerie. Perhaps this primeval stone was the key. She put the stone to her eye, saw nothing at first… still at that moment the forest chose to come alive.

Skeletal branches parted to expose a haunt of unearthly revels. She wasn’t sure of their existence before, and had only ever glimpsed the harbinger of faerie by way of spectral lights darting along passageways in the old house. There was no longer any disbelief that the supernatural existed.

Elbereth was known to some as the Lady of the Forest, a being of darkness. Many of the small forest spirits feared her, others akin to the piskies watched with fascination. Elbereth could glamour mortals if she wished, acquire their souls for her inner self, but these wicked endeavours existed many moons ago and she no longer wished harm. She was aware of the girl watching from the tangle of briars and turned her head slightly, allowing the mortal to see the mask she wore. "Return at the witching hour..."








 

October Spell

This woodland is one of the most treasured places to roam, there are earthly delights and hidden finds. It is perhaps a little over trodden, nevertheless flawless when humans are no longer in orbit.

My vision captures something new, every time. An acorn here, a mushroom cap there.

The cycle of seasons is alluring, the transition from summer to autumn. Leaves shifting colours. There was once a time when nature was unspoiled.

Woodland Wanderings

LEAF


IT WAS A COLD AND MISTY MORNING IN THE FOREST...

I had gone to sleep with the full moon peering through my open window, a dreamless night, ready to wake at dawn like every other morning. The house was quiet, except for the creaking of the attic door that was loose on its hinges, the noise reminded me of withered old bones.
I dressed quickly, pulling on my tattered boots and long velvet coat that kept the wind out. As I opened the front door and stepped out on to the gravelled path, I caught a glimpse of a startled fox foraging through the dustbin, a piece of yesterday’s remains dangling from its mouth.

The forest was only a few minutes distance from home, situated behind a crumbling factory that had ceased production. I came here to dream, to be at one with the earth. I had never seen another soul in this forest, it was rumoured to be haunted by spirits that crossed over from the other world.

*

A hawk circled lazily in the sky, watching, as I climbed the rickety bridge that lead to the waterfall. The water level was particularly high this morning, and autumn leaves floated downstream to meet their fate. As I reached the familiar meadow, with its welcoming silver birch trees, I discovered that I wasn’t alone.
The girl sat in the centre of the meadow, legs crossed, in a meditative state. I was aware of her gaze darting to my face, but she remained tranquil. She told me her name was Leaf.

When we clasped hands, I saw that she was a being of the earth, the forest her natural element. Leaf was a story teller, a weaver of magics.

Her fingers were stained with mud and berry juice and the dress she wore was ragged and adorned with different shades of green. Bracelets and bone jewellery hung from her slender wrists, jangling with the slightest movement. There was a circle of flowers laid out on the ground, enclosed by acorns and chestnut shells, an offering for the wood mother.

She began to tell me a story, about the lore of the ancient trees and gods of the earth.

*

The Birth of Autumn

The Raven

Invoking the Spirits

In the forest of lost children... dwells a feral witch child. She lives in her cave of branches, where she invokes the spirits and creeps up on unsuspecting victims.

Into the Wild

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

Blessings. *                                                                                                                                  

The coast, ruined mine buildings and an old fashioned hamlet, butterflies (silver studded blue), grasshoppers, wild flowers growing along the hedgerows, swift birds darting through the reeds, adders nesting in rabbit holes, rocky coves and wrecks, fishing boats, windswept cliffs, dark tunnels leading underground where miners perished in an accident, pebbled beaches and the swell of waves, washed up crabs, fisherman huts built into the granite, hidden valleys.

Foxgloves, dragonflies ~ faeries hovering over the water, river weaving  through the forest floor, climbing and climbing to the highest peak, echoes, trees that remind you of Scandinavian landscapes, pine trees, fur trees and conifer trees, scrambling over roots, children playing in the stream, trees creaking (whispering dryads), bird of prey in the cloudless sky.

Roaming the land of Golitha falls, unspoilt fields and earth, granite rocks from the days of the glaciers, giant water wheal pits, tunnels leading underground, otter paw prints, blackbirds foraging, waterfalls over moss covered rocks, tree roots and sun flares, unseen hollows, green summer leaves.