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The Selkie's Song|Enchanted Fairytale Dreams



The young man quickly entered the church and saw a bird flying about, but he could not catch it."Oh!" he exclaimed. "If only the griffin was here, he would soon catch it."At these words, the griffin appeared and, seizing the bird, gave it to the youth who carried it off carefully while the griffin flew away.— The Man Without A Heart, by Andrew Lang.Artwork by Debra McFarlane.

The young man quickly entered the church and saw a bird flying about, but he could not catch it.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "If only the griffin was here, he would soon catch it."

At these words, the griffin appeared and, seizing the bird, gave it to the youth who carried it off carefully while the griffin flew away.
— The Man Without A Heart, by Andrew Lang.

Artwork by Debra McFarlane.

(Source: faeryhearts)

Artwork: Red Deer In The Summer Meadow, by Karl Wagner.

Artwork: Red Deer In The Summer Meadow, by Karl Wagner.

There was no need to row, for the current drifted them steadily to the east. When the third day dawned — with a brightness you or I could not bear even if we had dark glasses on — they saw a wonder ahead. It was as if a wall stood up between them and the sky, a greenish-grey, trembling, shimmering wall. Then up came the sun, and at its first rising they saw it through the wall and it turned into wonderful rainbow colours. Then they knew that the wall was really a long, tall wave — a wave endlessly fixed in one place as you may often see at the edge of a waterfall.Now they saw something not only behind the wave but behind the sun. What they saw — eastward, beyond the sun — was a range of mountains. It was so high that either they never saw the top of it or they forgot it. They must really have been outside the world for any mountains even a quarter of a twentieth of that height ought to have had ice and snow on them. But these were warm and green and full of forests and waterfalls however high you looked. And suddenly there came a breeze from the east, tossing the top of the wave into foamy shapes and ruffling the smooth water all round them. It lasted only a second or so but what it brought them in that second none of those three children will ever forget. It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound. Edmund and Eustace would never talk about it afterwards. Lucy could only say, “It would break your heart.” “Why,” said I, “was it so sad?” “Sad! No,” said Lucy.No one in that boat doubted that they were seeing beyond the end of the world into Aslan’s country.At that moment, with a crunch, the boat ran aground. The water was too shallow now even for it. “This,” said Reepicheep, “is where I go on alone.”They did not even try to stop him, for everything now felt as if it had been fated or had happened before. They helped him to lower his little coracle. Then he took off his sword (“I shall need it no more,” he said) and flung it far away across the lilied sea. Then he bade them goodbye, trying to be sad for their sakes; but he was quivering with happiness. Lucy, for the first and last time did what she had always wanted to do, taking him in her arms and caressing him. Then hastily he got into his coracle and took his paddle, and the current caught it and away he went, very black against the lilies. But no lilies grew on the wave; it was a smooth green slope. The coracle went more and more quickly, and beautifully it rushed up the wave’s side. For one split second they saw its shape and Reepicheep’s on the very top. Then it vanished, and since that moment no one can truly claim to have seen Reepicheep the Mouse. But my belief is that he came safe to Aslan’s country and is alive there to this day.— The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of The Dawn Treader, by C. S. Lewis.Artwork: Reepicheep, by The Starhorse.

There was no need to row, for the current drifted them steadily to the east. When the third day dawned — with a brightness you or I could not bear even if we had dark glasses on — they saw a wonder ahead. It was as if a wall stood up between them and the sky, a greenish-grey, trembling, shimmering wall. Then up came the sun, and at its first rising they saw it through the wall and it turned into wonderful rainbow colours. Then they knew that the wall was really a long, tall wave — a wave endlessly fixed in one place as you may often see at the edge of a waterfall.

Now they saw something not only behind the wave but behind the sun. What they saw — eastward, beyond the sun — was a range of mountains. It was so high that either they never saw the top of it or they forgot it. They must really have been outside the world for any mountains even a quarter of a twentieth of that height ought to have had ice and snow on them. But these were warm and green and full of forests and waterfalls however high you looked. And suddenly there came a breeze from the east, tossing the top of the wave into foamy shapes and ruffling the smooth water all round them. It lasted only a second or so but what it brought them in that second none of those three children will ever forget. It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound. Edmund and Eustace would never talk about it afterwards. Lucy could only say, “It would break your heart.” “Why,” said I, “was it so sad?” “Sad! No,” said Lucy.

No one in that boat doubted that they were seeing beyond the end of the world into Aslan’s country.

At that moment, with a crunch, the boat ran aground. The water was too shallow now even for it. “This,” said Reepicheep, “is where I go on alone.”

They did not even try to stop him, for everything now felt as if it had been fated or had happened before. They helped him to lower his little coracle. Then he took off his sword (“I shall need it no more,” he said) and flung it far away across the lilied sea. Then he bade them goodbye, trying to be sad for their sakes; but he was quivering with happiness. Lucy, for the first and last time did what she had always wanted to do, taking him in her arms and caressing him. Then hastily he got into his coracle and took his paddle, and the current caught it and away he went, very black against the lilies. But no lilies grew on the wave; it was a smooth green slope. The coracle went more and more quickly, and beautifully it rushed up the wave’s side. For one split second they saw its shape and Reepicheep’s on the very top. Then it vanished, and since that moment no one can truly claim to have seen Reepicheep the Mouse. But my belief is that he came safe to Aslan’s country and is alive there to this day.
— The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of The Dawn Treader, by C. S. Lewis.

Artwork: Reepicheep, by The Starhorse.

(Source: faeryhearts)

A giraffe poked his head in my windowAnd my heart leaped into my mouth.I couldn’t think of a thing to say,So he licked my nose and headed south.I thought, as I groped for my hanky,— And I pass this on to you —That if a wild animal comes to call,Say a tiger, or meerkat, or ‘roo…If, like me, you want him to stay,Or even come back another day,Then, perhaps, it would really pay to say,"Welcome!" and "How do you do?"!— A Giraffe Poked His Head In My Window, by Julie Andrews.

A giraffe poked his head in my window
And my heart leaped into my mouth.
I couldn’t think of a thing to say,
So he licked my nose and headed south.

I thought, as I groped for my hanky,
— And I pass this on to you —
That if a wild animal comes to call,
Say a tiger, or meerkat, or ‘roo…

If, like me, you want him to stay,
Or even come back another day,
Then, perhaps, it would really pay to say,
"Welcome!" and "How do you do?"!
— A Giraffe Poked His Head In My Window, by Julie Andrews.

(Source: faeryhearts)

Afternoon tea needn’t stand on ceremony. Anything that becomes more important than sweet fellowship, whether lace or linen or the china itself, is pretense. How much more we enjoy life when the pretenses are discarded!— Paul Kortepeter.Artwork: Tea Time, by Omar Rayyan.

Afternoon tea needn’t stand on ceremony. Anything that becomes more important than sweet fellowship, whether lace or linen or the china itself, is pretense. How much more we enjoy life when the pretenses are discarded!
— Paul Kortepeter.

Artwork: Tea Time, by Omar Rayyan.

(Source: faeryhearts)

Faerytale-like dress from the designer, Krikor Jabotian.

Faerytale-like dress from the designer, Krikor Jabotian.

(Source: faeryhearts)


Come one and come all!
Come great and come small!
Come winged and come wingless,
Bejeweled or ringless!

Come,
Walking or riding!
Come,
Stalking or gliding!
Come,
Soaring or sliding!

Come all, come all, to the
Faeries’ own ball!
— Come To The Faeries’ Ball, by Jane Yolen.

Artwork: The Invitation, by Gary Lippincott.

(Source: faeryhearts)

The faeries inside were dancing,Unseen by the human eye,Giving praise to the radiant sunHeld aloft in an incredible sky.The faeries inside were dancing,Awaiting the nourishing rain.They delighted in flitting aboutAgain and again and again.The fairies inside were dancingUntil the moon bid them to sleep.The petals of their home did close —A flower their safety to keep.— Dancing Faeries, by Busy Mind Thinking.Photography by Paul Militaru.

The faeries inside were dancing,
Unseen by the human eye,
Giving praise to the radiant sun
Held aloft in an incredible sky.

The faeries inside were dancing,
Awaiting the nourishing rain.
They delighted in flitting about
Again and again and again.

The fairies inside were dancing
Until the moon bid them to sleep.
The petals of their home did close —
A flower their safety to keep.
— Dancing Faeries, by Busy Mind Thinking.

Photography by Paul Militaru.

(Source: faeryhearts)


Coton Manor Garden | Northamptonshire, England


This peaceful 10-acre garden occupies a hillside position extending down from the 17th century manor house constructed of honey-coloured Northamptonshire stone. Landscaped on different levels, it comprises a series of distinctive smaller gardens, providing variety and interest throughout the season, and is enhanced by flowing streams, fountains and ponds. Beyond the confines of the garden, there is a magical 5-acre wood of beech trees and sea of native English bluebells that has become an annual pilgrimage for many visitors. In addition, there is a colourful meadow of wildflowers at its best in June and July.

(Source: faeryhearts)

Old Mill House | Isle of Wight, England.

Old Mill House | Isle of Wight, England.

(Source: faeryhearts)


The Flowers & Butterflies AlphabetConstance Widen

Part I | Part II | Part III


The Flowers & Butterflies AlphabetConstance Widen

Part I | Part II | Part III

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