Aneira & Enfys Hare


Aneira & Enfys Hare


Hares at Play

The birds are gone to bed, the cows are still,
And sheep lie panting on each old mole-hill;
And underneath the willow's grey-green bough,
Like toil a-resting, lies the fallow plough.
The timid hares throw daylight fears away
On the lane's road to dust and dance and play,


Then dabble in the grain by naught deterred
To lick the dew-fall from the barley's beard;
Then out they strut again and round the hill
Like happy thoughts dance, squat, and loiter still,
Till milking maidens in the early morn
Gingle their yokes and start them in the corn;
Through well-known beaten paths each nimble hare
Sturts quick as fear, and seeks its hidden lair.

—John Clare


Aneira is an old soul, a throwback to another time, and accordingly she refuses to wear anything from this century (or the last!). Her tiny old fashioned velvet coat and delicate lace dress were hand stitched from a lovely antique bonnet that I've been carrying around since I discovered them in a magical little shop in Devon (with just such a project for Aneira in mind!).  


They are looking for a home today. Their price is $980 USD plus postage. They are art dolls and not suited for play, Aneira is sewn onto Enfys' back. Shipping charges are $35 to the US and Canada, and $50 for International.


Ásta and Annuli

Ásta and Annuli are waiting for one last snowfall before they ride on the back of the North Wind to colder parts. 

~ Annuli ~



~ Ásta ~


What the Winds Bring

Which is the Wind that brings the cold?

The North-Wind, Freddy, and all the snow;

And the sheep will scamper into the fold

When the North begins to blow.

Which is the Wind that brings the heat?

The South-Wind, Katy, and corn will grow,

And peaches redden for you to eat,

When the South begins to blow.

Which is the Wind that brings the rain?

The East-Wind, Arty; and farmers know

That cows come shivering up the lane

When the East begins to blow.




Which is the Wind that brings the flowers?

The West-Wind, Bessy; and soft and low

The birdies sing in the summer hours

When the West begins to blow.

--Edmund Clarence Stedman


And their little sister:

~ Anuska ~


Ásta and Annuli will be available in the shop this evening.

The Snow Queene




The Snow Queene


W i n t e r

And the robin flew
Into the air, the air,
The white mist through;
And small and rare
The night-frost fell
Into the calm and misty dell.
And the dusk gathered low,
And the silver moon and stars
On the frozen snow
Drew taper bars,
Kindled winking fires
In the hooded briers.
And the sprawling Bear
Growled deep in the sky;
And Orion’s hair
Streamed sparkling by:
But the North sighed low,
“Snow, snow, more snow!”

Walter de la Mare