The Faeries of Bellegarde Village

 

It's been a quiet couple weeks here as we acclimatize to life in France. We've landed in a tiny village nestled in the Rhône-Alpes. There are no shops, just a small stretch of road lined with a handful of lovely ivy covered houses. Behind the village is a little stream (where you can sometimes spy faeries at play), and a few winding trails that lead up through rolling green hills to other tiny villages. We're staying with friends in a beautiful old hotel that's been converted into a house until we find our own place in a neighbouring (slightly larger) town. It's a busy household to say the least, with my two children bringing the total number of little ones running around to eight. Somehow I've still managed to find some time to sneak up to my temporary studio in the attic to work. 

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I would like to introduce you to Ottilie, Aimée & Eulalie (the twins), and little Anaïs, the first faeries to make our acquaintance here in France.

~ Aimée & Eulalie ~

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~ Ottilie ~

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~ Anaïs ~

 
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If you want to find them the stream is always a good place to look, especially at 4pm when the heat has died down a little and the sun is still shining through the trees in dappled beams. Whenever we see them there I'm always reminded of the first bit of that poem by Rose Fyleman, The Fairies.

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The Fairies

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!

It's not so very, very far away;

You pass the gardener's shed and you just keep straight ahead-

I do so hope they've really come to stay.

There's a little wood, with moss in it and beetles,

And a little stream that quietly runs through;

You wouldn't think they'd dare to come merry-making there-

Well, they do.

 

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There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!

They often have a dance on summer nights;

The butterflies and bees make a lovely little breeze,

And the rabbits stand about and hold the lights.

Did you know that they could sit upon the moonbeams

And pick a little star to make a fan,

And dance away up there in the middle of the air?

Well, they can.

--From 'The Fairies' by Rose Fyleman

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Lovely Ottilie

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Ottilie, Aimée, Eulalie, and Anaïs will be available in my shop tomorrow, September 11th, at 2PM (PDT/GMT-7).

The price for each will be $275 USD, plus $30 postage (worldwide). 

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The Faeries of Dunnottar Castle

 

Amidst the ruins of Dunnottar Castle, hidden from the unsuspecting eye, are tiny ornately carved doors. They belong to the aos sí, the little folk, who dwell in gilded halls beneath the towering cliffs.

They were there long before the castle was built, before Saint Ninian built his chapel on that spot, even before the Picts who dwelt there thousands of years ago. The aos sí had claimed the place as their own when there were only rocky cliffs surrounded by an endless sea. Sometimes, on quiet days, they can still be seen playing among the ruins.

Dunnottar Castle, Aberdeenshire
 
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It’s home to the fiery and curious Murrin. She often sits atop the remains of the highest tower watching the people below who come to see what’s left of the castle. She loves to listen to the old faerie bards and their tales of William Wallace and how he captured the castle from the English, of Viking raids and conquests, of the ghost of the "green lady" who wanders the ruins to this day in search of her lost children, the Picts, who had been converted when Saint Ninian came. 

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And there is Iona, Murrin's twin sister. She's not as interested in humans and their stories as her sister. She prefers watching the seagulls dip and glide among the rocky cliffs and the seals at play below. Once, she saw a Selkie come up out of the waves during a raging storm, and take shelter in the little cave at the base of the cliff. 

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Looking out to the North Sea

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Faerie sisters, Murrin & Iona

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Murrin & her chickadee stand 5" x 6". They are entirely hand stitched and felted from natural fibres. Murrin is dressed in a skirt made from various pieces of antique cotton and lace. Her jacket and cap are made from vintage Scottish wool. Her wings are hand painted vintage cotton. Her hair is mohair locks, hand dyed with onion skin. Her tiny features are hand embroidered from cotton thread. 

Iona & her blackbird stand 7" x 9". They are entirely hand stitched and felted from natural fibres. Iona's dress and cap are made from warm vintage Scottish wool. Her scarf is antique lace. Her wings are hand painted vintage cotton, and her hair is mohair locks, hand dyed with onion skin. Her tiny features are hand embroidered from cotton thread. 

They are last of my faeries made in Scotland. They will be available in my shop tomorrow, August 25th at 11AM (PDT/Vancouver Time) **GMT-7**

**UPDATE** In an attempt to accommodate more time zones, I've moved the time ahead to 2PM, PDT. 

The price for Iona is $275 USD, plus $25 postage (worldwide).

The Price for Murrin is $300 USD, plus $25 postage (worldwide).

 

 
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Breagha & Eilidh

Two wee sisters from the craggy mountains of Scotland.

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Breagha, is the wild one. She's often gone for long hours, sometimes days at a time, exploring the craggy mountains and moors around their home. She rides on the back of a pine marten, a fiercely loyal creature named Ùisdean. She's a storyteller at heart, and she's often weaving tales in her mind as she rides, or collecting them from folk she meets along her way, to bring back and tell her little sister. 

Eilidh is not adventurous like her sister at all, she prefers to be near home with her mother and her little brothers. But she loves to hear her sister's stories and imagine the wild and untamed places she's traveled. Eilidh has the most beautiful voice, and she loves to turn her sister's tales into songs that she sings for her brothers and her friends the birds.  


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The Fairies Dance

The fairies are dancing — how nimbly they bound!
They flit o’er the grass tops, they touch not the ground;
Their kirtles of green are with diamonds bedight,
All glittering and sparkling beneath the moonlight.

Hark, hark to their music! how silvery and clear —
‘Tis surely the flower-bells that ringing I hear, —
The lazy-wing’d moth, with the grasshopper wakes,
And the field-mouse peeps out, and their revels partakes.

How featly they trip it! how happy are they
Who pass all their moments in frolic and play,
Who rove where they list, without sorrows or cares,
And laugh at the fetters mortality wears!

But where have they vanish’d? — a cloud ‘s o’er the moon,
I’ll hie to the spot, — they’ll be seen again soon —
I hasten — ’tis lighter, — and what do I view? —
The fairies were grasses, the diamonds were dew.

And thus do the sparkling illusions of youth
Deceive and allure, and we take them for truth;
Too happy are they who the juggle unshroud,
Ere the hint to inspect them be brought by a cloud. 

by Carolina Eliza Scott (1777-1853)

 

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