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!