Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Late Summer Tales

Ah what I would do to see an owl looking down at our little white cottage from the tall trees in my magical woods, her song drifting in through a quiet window.... dance my soul in thy hope!  Thus far though, I haven't been that lucky yet... but I keep dreaming and hoping, and of course... imagining too!  Can you see her?  ;)


There are some things that in my gut, I know will find their way to me someday.  And I dwell on those magical feelings... believing believing.  I live in the realm of possibility, and the moon never beams without bringing me dreams.  Magical things have come true for me time after time after time... and they always leave me in deep awe, wonderment lifting me up on wings of gratitude.   So I wait.  And one day, yes... I will hear the mysterious hooting call of the owl drifting in through the quiet windows of our little white cottage.


Late summer evenings possess such a special charm.  I go outside to say my goodbyes to the fading day, inhale and hold them in my soul... prayers and praises ascending, ascending, passing up the tallest crowns of trees in a pink haze over the darkening clouds.


I was so happy to see my friend the Swallowtail fluttering about the garden again this morning... I found her sipping the nectar of the morning glories, then saw her soared the warm air, and up she came fluttering about and around me as if saying "Yes, yes it's me, it's me and I'm alive!"


I want to believe this is the same butterfly that appeared in my garden particularly early this year, when we were still going through the last leg of winter.  And I want to believe that she knows me, and knows I'm her friend.  I've never seen such a lovely creature of a butterfly before... almost as big as a Chinese fan, and as beautiful and alive as a miracle in itself.     


The other day, my husband sprayed the gardens in an attempt to save me from mosquitoes, and my friend the Swallowtail was somehow affected by the fumes. Her usual perky demeanor were somewhat sluggish, and she was less active and lively than usual.  And so it was that I was able to bring her inside for a few moments so she could recoup and meet the place where my heart dreams...  she loved it in our little sunny dinning room and fluttered and hovered 'bout and around for a while, until she unearthed the lace curtains on the windows, and found her repose there... 


Later when I thought she was already feeling better I took her outside again, opened the cups of my hands where I carried her, and let her free to disappeared in the density of the woods.  Where she lives, I supposed.  And would I see her again?—I had to wonder.  As I walked away, I looked back twice to see if a beautiful fairy with golden wings and a sparkly dress was waving good-bye from atop a branch.  Of course, she was!

What an amazing feeling it was to feel this small, yet powerful life cupped in the hollow of my hands... like us creatures of the Almighty God when he carries us on his hands and suffers our sorrows and caresses the joys of our hearts when he says 'don't be anxious about anything, live a life of daily dependence upon me... all is in my hand.  Trust me implicitly for the future'...

Seeing this big, beautiful creature today again, what a joy that was!


I am sitting by the table out looking the gardens as I write, and I cannot fully concentrate with this glorious racketing of wings and bird songs outside.  From my peripheral vision I see wings in the purest of yellows of the small butterflies hovering over the crimsoned little trumpet flowers of the Christmas vine.  And a hummingbird couple, as playful as they can be, keep coming to the feeder I have placed outside the window closest of our dinning room.  What an amazing thing it was for God to have thought of hummingbirds when He created our lovely world, don't you think so!  Oh and those roses.... they're in bloom again!



What a beautiful, enchanting place this is!
I love the countryside.  I love my little white cottage
I love sultry summer days and the freedom of hours of leisure to bask in.
I am a blessed soul. 



As summer approaches its end in a frantic whirlpool of days, my mind goes to the woods and the mysteries and enchantment that lay there. So this morning I searched all my drawers for this favorite book, "Secret Life of a Forest", overflowing with insights into all four seasons of the woodland year, and late sat down with it to discover what mysteries are transpiring out there at this time in the season...


Did you know that the favorite food of the grass snake, most often encountered around the borders of woods and hedgerows, are frogs, fish and mice?  I tremble at the thought of it.  And more and more I'm convinced that whatever ate our fishes this spring was a snake... eekk!

Call me crazy, but the other day I felt the first tinge of fall in the air.  It rained all night, and as it usually happens around here after a rainy night, we woke up to an enchanting fog that covered trees and little houses, and bestowed a mysterious vibe to the hilly road outside.  Some of the leaves are already falling, and temperatures have come down quite a bit.  It is still summer, and it will be for sometime, but not much longer.   I will enjoy every bit of it, surround myself in its warmth for as long as I want, and of course, will continue dreaming about my owl... and work on a special magical potion to attract owls too!  Tinkle tinkle joy and wonder bring me an owl from over yonder!  Oh dear me, I do hope a good spell doesn't have to rhyme! ;)   


Wait, do owls drink tea?  Best go find a mouse... quickly! ;) 

Hope you have a magical day today

my friends!








Saturday, August 20, 2016

Shawls

Do you love shawls, 
or ever wear them?  


Shawls, 'estolas', 'mantones' (in Spn.)... I love them all, and wear them all the time, for any occasion, and on every season.  Even, during our hot summer days...  


Shawls are one of the timeless emblems of Spanish feminine style... I love the silken ones, long-tasseled, and flower-embroidered. But I love them all the same. This one below is one of my summer favorites. The same I'm wearing on the photograph above... in black, white and cream. I sometimes use my shawls as part of my decorating style in our home, thrown casually over a chair or bed...


Sometimes, I have even use wide, long scarves as shawls over my shoulders.  As the one you see here in this following photograph... this scarf is one of my favorite autumn and mild winter 'shawls' ever. I love its beautiful designs, and golden threads...   


I look for my shawls everywhere. Second hand stores are usually one of my favorite places to surprise me with some beautiful ones. Turns out you’re more likely to stumble upon a valuable vintage piece in those crowded racks full of old, plain scarves than in any other place... this one here is one of my last acquisitions...


I love the rich, deep color, and it goes so well with that dress!


If I don't use them on me, they will surely end up decorating a table in my house or any other piece of furniture... like here:  Covering a table in my gypsy room...


Or over a door... like here, decorating the entrance of our gypsy caravan.  


Thrown over a large mirror as part of the decoration...


Even our windows get to wear a shawl...


Here's another shawl on another window... hehe.  
I know, I'm crazy!


Like the fan and castanets, the shawl is part of the traditional image of flamenco dancers or sultry Spanish beauties in old movies... yet the shawl is far from being just folklore.  It remains one of the most common accessories of Spanish women to this day...


If you happen to find a pretty shawl in your roundabouts through thrift stores and second hand stores, would you save them for me?  ;))

Ah yes, you can give them to me whenever I visit you in your gardens on those special, magical occasions when the moon is round and full and we're allow to become Animagi... which, if you don't know it, according to the Hogwarts teachers in Hogwarts Castle, where by the way, I happened to befriend Madam Poppy Pomfrey many, many moons ago, means to morph into the form of one specific animal.  One determined by your personality and inner traits.  Like what happened with Professor Minerva McGonagall, as you see here.... ;)

Witches were said to take the form of a cat nine times, but don't worry I would not come to you as a cat. What about an owl? Yes yes... a white owl!  Meet me in the garden, then!  And don't forget the shawls!  ;) ;)

Before I go, I have to share with you this old, old photograph I found on the Internet the other day that has so enchanted me ever since... of these two unidentified women in a garden wearing lovely long dresses and lovely shawls.  Oh how I want to be there!... live in that era... or at least be able to clad myself in those awesome, awesome dresses and long shawls...

   
I hope you are having a wonderful, magical Saturday, wherever you are!

Click HERE if you'd like to see my favorite new shawl right now! ;) So pretty! And perfect colors for the fall! ;)

Wednesday, August 17, 2016

August

On my roaming through Blogland lately, I've been listening to people complain about our relentless, beautiful days of summer.  People already envisioning winter, and a land blanketed in wooly white.  One particular comment got my attention in a strange, sad way.  The woman wrote:  "OHMYGOSH. I HATE THESE HORRIBLE HOT SUMMER DAYS."   She was actually screaming in all caps.  But really....


My soul is a Monarch fluttering under the summer, cobalt skies of August...


And how very lovely the thought of August is in the depth of winter, and how our hearts yearn then for its glories... how a single prayer would pierce through the ices in a powerful, evocative yearning:

"O Spirit of the Summertime, 
bring back the roses to the dells; 
the swallow from her distant clime, 
the honey-bee from drowsy cells.  
Bring back the friendship of the sun; 
the gilded evenings, calm and late, 
when merry children homeward run, 
and peeping stars bid lovers wait... 
bring back the singing; 
and the scent of meadowlands at dewy prime... 
Oh, bring again my heart's content, 
thou Spirit of the Summertime!"
 (William Allingham).  

I just so love summer.  And I'm already feeling nostalgic about having to see it go soon...


The other evening I wanted to go outside before nightfall,   

"Part of a moon was falling down the west,
Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.
Its light poured softly in her lap. She saw it
And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand
Among the harp-like morning-glory strings,
Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves..."
(Robert Frost)


The little white cottage basked in such glorious pink glow... it swelled the house, and surrounding gardens in magical flurries of wonderment, and glories... I went back and forth around the outsides taking mental pictures of all I saw, and heard and felt...  enchanted by it all, and truly thankful. 


A little white cottage... 

"Where flowers grow and sway
And where dew kisses their satin cheeks
Tall trees provide shade in the hot summertime
And breezes rustle the forest leaves.

Stars twinkle and wink at Night
Happily so merry and gay
And the Moon watches happily o'er
This beautiful enchanted place.

Coblestones provide such a lovely walkway
Leading to the pretty cottage
Where tall rosebushes climb
The trellis where at Night their buds unfurl."
(Unknown)


Purple roses glowed under the light of lanterns, wild and charmed... 


Windows in the little white cottage shimmered, and twinkled, enticing me to the glow and warmth inside...  


Then... little was visible but the hints of the dusky quiet light of the solar paths lights, overflowing through their casements into the dark world without...


The little white cottage in the woods snuggled in the arms of the evening, and remained quiet under the dusky sky...  


Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive...


Oh, the summer night, 
Has a smile of light, 
And she sits on a sapphire throne.

(Bryan Procter)

Do you love summer?



Friday, August 12, 2016

My days in our little white cottage

A luscious blend of white buds and fern leaves are woven together to create a cool splash, while mimosa blossom and purple tulips are uncovered.  Lush passion flower, beach wood and golden amber close this fragrance leaving you feeling warm and refreshed:  "Sungari"... that's my new favorite 'Eau De Parfum' lately.  


"On a wintry October night a mysterious letter was left at the base of the angel monument which overlooks the grave of Andrea Parkin, the only child of David and Mary Anne Parkin"...  And this the book I'm reading right now: "The Letter", from Richard Paul Evans, author of The Christmas Box.  


“I have come to believe that we do not walk alone in this life. There are others, fellow sojourners, whose journeys are interwoven with ours in seemingly random patterns, yet, in the end, have been carefully placed to reveal a remarkable tapestry. I believe God is the weaver at that loom.” (Richard Paul Evans)  I am enjoying reading this book thus far, and it is a pleasure whenever I find a book and like it from its beginning as my soul identifies with it, which, truth be told it's something that doesn't happen easily.  I've got to love a book from its very beginnings, or else I'd not read it.


The scent wafting these days from the little lamp that also warms and melts wax tarts and release fragranced scents into our little white cottage is 'white honeysuckle'.  I love candle warmer lamps.  I keep mine in a corner of my little white kitchen, and except when we're not home, leave it on night and day everyday.  I love the soft glow emanating from it that bathes the kitchen and hallway in soft hushes of light, particularly on those last hours of day and night.  I find it truly enchanting. 


There's a type of a blue-winged fairy-insect dweller of the pond that have me most intrigued with wonder and awe.  What are they... insect, fairy?  I have to ask myself.  For I've never seen such a lovelier creature of the summer days.  Dozen, if not more of these insects can be found hovering over the pond in a magical fluttering of blue-cobalt wings.  They seem to be particularly fond of waters; almost sweeping atop it, as if taunting the fishes, and I have observed too, how they seem to favor the large leaves of the Elephant Ears surrounding the pond, and how, on occasions, they would splatter water with flimsy blue wings on themselves, just as birds do when at the birdbaths. 

They are enchanting, lovely creatures that bring to mind wispy Tinkerbelles and winged Thumbelinas.  How fascinating it is to me to stand still on the bridge that crosses the pond and just be... just watch, and marvel and wonder.  Sometimes, when I sit under the umbrella these creatures would whoosh by in front of me almost teasingly, as if enticing me to follow them into the woods? Fairies.  They must be fairies in disguise.   


And there, in the pond, there also dwell a most interesting creature of all... a frog, a "wood frog" I discovered, whose call is much like the calls of geese's, or the bark of dogs.  Sometimes, the sound would bring to mind the cloaking of chicken, or a faraway dog who it really is too close.  The first time I heard that strange sound I could not put a name to it, or figure out from what animal's throat it was coming...  evenings, when the world slows down enough to listen to the falling dusk, the songs of the wood frog, along with the song of the other frogs, can transport you to another world.  


From up the hill across from our little white cottage comes the soft and throaty cooing sound of pigeons... I imagine they live and nest on somebody's roofs and eaves. But I cannot tell exactly where.  There's a place, before getting on the freeway, where I see them all the time, sometimes even in the middle of the road foraging for scraps. I love listening to their songs, and although I'm somewhat doubtful on whether I want them in my garden, I still do find their music coming from far away, as soothing and enthralling as it truly is.


I'm spending my mornings in the garden again. The downpours of the last few days have refreshed the earth, and temperatures have become somewhat mellow, or mellower, allowing me to venture out again.  I hear the woods singing its mysterious songs, and I hear and see shaggy green crowns of trees swaying high up with refreshing breezes, and I want to believe that somewhere among the privet I see Khal Drogo walking in the woods.  Beautiful, and daunting as Daenerys Targaryen's own dragons.

That's just how enchanting my little world is... but, is it really the place?  I sometimes have to wonder about that.  I once read that the real magic resides within ourselves, rather that on the outside...  I like how the poet puts it:


For some people, there is nothing special in the world. Nothing magic. Just physics.  For others, magic is everywhere.  Which means that magic must have come from within us...

So there you have it... look around you and if you can't find anything magical, then look again... and again, until you find it! 

"Magic exists. Who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind and the silence of the stars? Anyone who has loved has been touched by magic. It is such a simple and such an extraordinary part of the lives we live." Nora Roberts, Charmed.

Do tell me something magical... something about your garden, your cottage, your life.  I love to read those comments you leave for me that have to do with those simple occurrences transpiring in your life, seem through your own magical eyes, and soul...

Much love and blessings to you all!





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