Serenading the stars
An unseen clock ticks upon the high varnished mantelpiece as light streams through the heavy curtains, illuminating dust that dances in the beam. Mumbled voices and teaspoons on best china can be heard coming from the other room.
Seeing the promise of brightness within the filtered light is the only excuse her wild soul needs. Unnoticed she opens the heavy oak door and is instantly embraced by the scent of spring.
The garden is unaware of her grandmothers need for order and etiquette. Honeysuckle vines twist over weathered fences and lost feathers hang in magical suspense from silken cobwebs.
With her bare feet in the cool grass she feels him. Chipped pots lie waiting for the sowing days that now will never come. A spade stands proud against the thorny backdrop as moss quietly paints itself against the metal. A solider waiting for his orders. Here is where she remembers his laugh most vividly but more than that she remembers his stories.
Deeper she walks into the garden passing memories and moments captured in timeless beauty.
Her heart warms as she stands beneath the softest paper blossom of her grandfathers apple tree. A place that once hosted warm summer picnics and on autumn days he would lift her as high as the sky to gently pick the tart apples for her grandmother to turn into her favourite pudding.Her daydream is broken as her feet touch the bruised windfall. A bitter reminder of something that was once so sweet. She notices a honeybee resting its weary wings upon the bark, she hasn't seen one since the hives were taken away and she melts into it's golden glow. It wobbles about on the heart of the tree, a place where a branch that grew pink fleshed apples once hung. A fast midsummers storm claimed it many years ago when her grandfather was just a boy. He told her tales of it's magic, that he had ventured within it and was greeted by tender beings that grew wings and sang to the waking stars. A silly story told to cheer a sniffling child but as the bee danced she found her hand knocking upon the forgotten doorway.
A breeze swayed the branches above as petals swirled like confetti, taking her hopes with them as the fell. She sighed with the realisation that the apple tree of her childhood dreams was just that, a dream.
Suddenly she thought she smelt the familiar scent of those memorable apple puddings and looked back towards the house. The garden had grown an air of anticipation as leaves seemed to whisper and grannys bonnets giggled. With the apple blossom still cascading around her a perfect full bloom came to rest upon her hand. Bringing it closer she swore she could see it breathing. Entranced the petals merged into a figure of blushing porcelain beauty and to her amazement a pair of shimmering wings unfolded. In the fading light the creature began to speak 'Welcome home my darling, it's been a long time'
Lifting her head in disbelief she is met with hundreds of tiny winged lights illuminating the abundant garden. She smiles as a blackbird opens the dusk with his soulful song and the creatures join him in serenading the waking stars.
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