The Dream Weaver

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She is the celestial muse, moving between worlds she carries songs of creation, magical insight, knowledge, and the old ways.

Her harp was crafted from a shell brought up to her from the depths of the ocean by Mac Lir.

She is whale song and owl song—deer song, and star song. 

Poets and painters know her well, she has moved through them since the first brush laid ochre and charcoal against stone, and the first songs flowed out into the world. 

In Ireland they called her Canola. It was she who gifted the very first harp to the people.  

Leave offerings to her in the crevice of an old tree, bits of silver, three hairs braided together with three strands of grass, moon-white shells, flower petals—and she will weave her magic, tying strands of inspiration from the otherworld through your dreams.

She is creation. 

The Snowflake Faeries

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These four came whirling down from the trees this afternoon, dancing a dizzying ballet amongst the first snowflakes of the season, while the north wind whipped fiercely around. Catching them in a still moment was near impossible, until at last they seemed to tire and came to rest on a branch. We invited them in to warm themselves over thimblefuls of steaming nettle tea.

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~ Gisela ~

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~ Alida ~

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~ Freja ~

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~ Runa ~

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Gisela, Runa, Freja, and Alida will be listed in my shop separately this evening at 8PM ADT. They are $125 USD. They are entirely hand sewn from natural fibres with the exception of their wings. They have wire armatures and can be gently repositioned. Each has a little string on her back so she can by hung as well.

Hattie & Hedgie

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As the autumn winds whip through the forest, dancing through half bare branches, and loosing cascades of brilliant leaves in their wake—a dazzling confetti of gold and amber, the littler creatures move about the forest floor in a more subdued manner. There is much to be done before father frost comes nipping at their doorsteps. But it is done with a merry heart, for the woods are a festive place this time of year. If you stand and listen very carefully, you’ll hear their songs playing on the wind, the little folk. They’re singing of the colours, of cold nights, and raging bon fires. There are friendly meetings afoot in every nook and cranny, hidden from the untrained eye, neighbours exchanging gifts and stories.

Hattie & Hedgie stop to rest on a couple of toadstools. They’ve been gathering dried bracken for their bedding all morning (they share a small hollowed out birch by the widest part of the stream). Hattie pulls out a woven moss scarf that she’s been secretly working on all week, and wraps it around Hedgie’s neck, careful not to catch it on her spines. The loosely woven strands of moss that she’s tucked into her own skirt for warmth are not nearly fine as this. She smiles as Hedgie does a little spin.

Soon they’re on their way again. They can smell delicious wafts of turnip soup coming from the old birch, as they make their way down to the stream.

Hattie & Hedgie will be in my shop this evening at 7PM (ADT).

They’re one of a kind art dolls. They are entirely hand stitched from natural fibers (with the exception of the wings). Hattie’s dress is made from hand dyed silk ribbon and wool locks, her bodice and cap are made from plant dyed silk cocoons. She is carrying a satchel with tiny dried bracken on her back. They are $400 USD.