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The Selkie's Song|The Opal Dream Cave



willowbambi:

What you will get «3

  • A pack of assorted stickers, some home made, some not but all adorable! 
  • A suprise gem stone in a cute little box
  • A little mushroom notepad and some snow white nail stickers
  • A ‘love the earth’ journal made entirely of recyclable and biodegradable, organic products (right down to the pen and the ink) 
  • A pair of home made knitted fingerless gloves i made! (perfect for those entering autumn soon!)
  • An Australian Flower Fairy Address book - discover some Australian flowers with lovely fairy illustrations.
  • A sweet little pandora inspired bracelet with adorable little charms on it!
  • A pencil case with the quote “she’s a dream girl”. it’s pretty :)

Rules «3

  1. Please be following me in order to be eligible for this giveaway :)
  2. Reblog as much as you like, please no spamming though! and feel free to like for reference but the likes will not count as entry. 
  3. Have you ask box open so i can message you if you win!
  4. Giveaway will end on the 1st of October 2014 where i will choose winner via a random generator.
  5. This giveaway is international!

Goodluck sprouts! x

(Source: faeryhearts)


How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend, some hurts that go too deep, …that have taken hold.

— Frodo Baggins, The Lord of The Rings: The Return of The King.

My mother once told me that trauma is like The Lord of The Rings. You go through this crazy, life-altering thing that almost kills you (like, say, having to drop the One Ring into Mount Doom), and that thing by definition cannot possibly be understood by someone who hasn’t gone through it. They can sympathise, sure, but they’ll never really know, and more than likely they’ll expect you to move on from the thing fairly quickly. And they can’t be blamed; people are just like that, but that’s not how it works.

Some lucky people are like Sam. They can go straight home, get married, have a whole bunch of curly-headed Hobbit babies and pick up their gardening right where they left off, content to forget the whole thing and live out their days in peace. Lots of people, however, are like Frodo, and they don’t come home the same person they were when they left, and everything is more horrible and more hard than it ever was before. The old wounds sting and the ghost of the weight of the One Ring still weighs heavy on their minds, and they don’t fit in at home anymore, so they get on boats, and go sailing away to the Undying West to look for the sort of peace that can only come from within. Frodos can’t cope, and most of us are Frodos when we start out.

But if we move past the urge to hide or lash out, my mother always told me, we can become Pippin and Merry. They never ignored what had happened to them, but they were malleable and receptive to change. They became civic leaders and great storytellers; they were able to turn all that fear and anger and grief into narratives that others could delight in and learn from, and they used the skills they had learned in battle to protect their homeland. They were fortified by what had happened to them, they wore it like armour and used it to their advantage.

It is our trauma that turns us into guardians, my mother told me. It is suffering that strengthens our skin and softens our hearts, and if we learn to live with the ghosts of what has been done to us, we just may be able to save others from the same fate.
Sarah Taylor Gibson.

(Source: faeryhearts)

A blue jay’s feathered back holds spots of white clouds And soft, glistening blue. Upon its wings is painted days of sapphires And snowy flurries, too.— A Blue Jay, by Gayle Sweeney.

A blue jay’s feathered back holds spots of white clouds 
And soft, glistening blue. 
Upon its wings is painted days of sapphires 
And snowy flurries, too.
— A Blue Jay, by Gayle Sweeney.

(Source: faeryhearts)

Furious with humiliation and pain, the sorceress grabbed Curry by the hair. Despite the child’s cries, she yanked her to her feet and dragged her deep and deeper into the dark woods. At last, many miles away, they came to a clearing marked by red and white roses.Curry wept and begged to go back, but the sorceress held her fast till, worn out by weeping, the child fell asleep. Only then did the sorceress let her go, casting a spell to deepen Curry’s natural sleep:Roses red and roses white,Turn her day to deepest night.She added to herself: “In a week she shall be dead of starvation, and I shall return to claim the comb from her bones.”Curry slept on and on, through the day and into the night. As she slept, the wind gathered the thistles and burrs she had curried from the animals’ fur and blew them into the deep woods, building her a tidy nest. As she slept even longer, her wild friends crept around her: the rabbit and ferret; the otter and squirrel; the field mouse and muskrat; the marten, fox, and lynx. One by one by one, they took the comb and ran it through her golden hair. The more they combed, the longer her hair grew, till it twined about her in an intricate bower and covered her over with a golden cloth. Lullabied by her animal friends, Curry slept on and on, and in her sleep grew from a child into a girl, from a girl into a lovely young woman. And the animals, satisfied, crept away.— The Girl In The Golden Bower, by Jane Yolen.Artwork by Jane Dyer.

Furious with humiliation and pain, the sorceress grabbed Curry by the hair. Despite the child’s cries, she yanked her to her feet and dragged her deep and deeper into the dark woods. At last, many miles away, they came to a clearing marked by red and white roses.

Curry wept and begged to go back, but the sorceress held her fast till, worn out by weeping, the child fell asleep. Only then did the sorceress let her go, casting a spell to deepen Curry’s natural sleep:

Roses red and roses white,
Turn her day to deepest night.

She added to herself: “In a week she shall be dead of starvation, and I shall return to claim the comb from her bones.”

Curry slept on and on, through the day and into the night. As she slept, the wind gathered the thistles and burrs she had curried from the animals’ fur and blew them into the deep woods, building her a tidy nest. As she slept even longer, her wild friends crept around her: the rabbit and ferret; the otter and squirrel; the field mouse and muskrat; the marten, fox, and lynx. One by one by one, they took the comb and ran it through her golden hair. The more they combed, the longer her hair grew, till it twined about her in an intricate bower and covered her over with a golden cloth. Lullabied by her animal friends, Curry slept on and on, and in her sleep grew from a child into a girl, from a girl into a lovely young woman. 

And the animals, satisfied, crept away.
— The Girl In The Golden Bower, by Jane Yolen.

Artwork by Jane Dyer.

(Source: faeryhearts)

Photography: Rabbit Amidst The Blackberries, by Andrew Kearton.

Photography: Rabbit Amidst The Blackberries, by Andrew Kearton.

(Source: faeryhearts)


When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of Summer
into my mouth…

There is this thick paw of my life
darting among the black bells, the leaves;
there is this happy tongue. 
— August, by Mary Oliver.

(Source: faeryhearts)

This is the blessing for rain after drought:Come down, wash the air so it shimmers,A perfumed shawl of lavender chiffon.Let the parched leaves suckle and swell.Enter my skin, wash me for the littleChrysalis of sleep rocked in your plashing.In the morning, the world is peeled to shining. — The Art of Blessing The Day, by Marge Piercy.

This is the blessing for rain after drought:
Come down, wash the air so it shimmers,
A perfumed shawl of lavender chiffon.
Let the parched leaves suckle and swell.
Enter my skin, wash me for the little
Chrysalis of sleep rocked in your plashing.
In the morning, the world is peeled to shining. 
— The Art of Blessing The Day, by Marge Piercy.

(Source: faeryhearts)

(Source: dalekjast)

The real world is different from the world in stories.― Catherine Morland, Northanger Abbey [2007] film.

The real world is different from the world in stories.
― Catherine Morland, Northanger Abbey [2007] film.

Gentle George’s Birdhouse | Victorian Trading CompanyA gentle gnome stands guardian to a songbird’s abode.

Gentle George’s Birdhouse | Victorian Trading Company

A gentle gnome stands guardian to a songbird’s abode.

(Source: faeryhearts)

darkfortresses wrote: Hi! I was just wondering if your playlist can be downloaded anywhere? I love it so much c: x

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I really am honoured that you and so many others are enjoying my playlist (and musical tastes) so much. :D Unfortunately, at the moment, I don’t have it up anywhere where it can be downloaded in full. It would prove problematic as some of the songs in it are by independent artists who have specifically asked that their songs be purchased, not distributed, so that they can continue to make music. However, if there is a certain song or two by a non-independent from my playlist that you would like, let me know and I will be more than happy to help you find it. :)

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