The Forager pushed aside saplings with her axe, taking slow steps, walking lightly to avoid the crackle of dried wood underfoot. Bird’s shrieked a cacophony in the branches above her, masking all but the loudest of noises in the forest. Still, it paid to be cautious; the troll clan would not welcome her presence here.
Whenever we take a walk in the woods, Robin brings home a pocketful of treasure.
Toadstools for Robin and woodland greens for the dining room. Are you sensing a theme?
Do you dream big? I dream big now. There’s not much time and there seems little point in dreaming safe, dreaming small.
We have been drying flowers all summer with no real idea what we would do with them. I had little bowls with random petals in them dotted all around the old house.
Nestled, cozy, ‘neath the fallen leaves Amidst the pinecone spiral’s spreading seeds Betwixt the twisted roots of this old tree Look close, and if you’re lucky, there I’ll be.
A few months ago, I wrote a Tiny Tale for Robin about his toadstool elf, Aggie, called Aggie in the Berry Patch.
A short distance from our new house, there is a four hour trail through the trees. Filled with NZ native plants, ferns and fungi, it feels like stepping out of this world and into some prehistoric jungle – but with footpaths.
The scent of warm beeswax and roses filled the kitchen. The table was laden with the colour of summer. Flames flickered a blessing to the sun. And we made candles for our solstice table.