I heard him sobbing amongst the soil. It wasn't until I noticed his quaking leaves and crept close to listen that I discovered the root of the sound.
Gently I pulled him from the earth and he squealed with fright. After apologies and aquantices I invited him home for tea.
He confided in me that his sadness came from being misunderstood. 'You see I am old earth magic, over the moon's I have whispered in many a witches ear and given guidance to those who are lost. But my story changed as the old ones passed and now people fear me. My scream they say will kill a man! But I reckon a nasty nip is about all I could manage.'
He told me that he missed hearing the children wonder through the woods, seeking his company and sharing his song. As he spoke his roots rippled and his leaves shone. I felt maybe this bizzare being was more magical than even he knew.
We parted as friends with the promise I would never give up searching for my new friend The Mandrake Mole or sharing his story. Well I suppose I've already fulfilled half of that promise
It is time to rest those weary bones on the earth and enjoy the peace of this magical place. This is a place I have known for a very long time and have gratefully been gifted the ability to recreate the creatures that reside here in wool, thread and words.
I really hope that my sculptures bring you joy and that my blog posts about
The Whispering Wild and my life within it inspire you to help open your heart to my wild and creative life.
Much love and magic xx