Efee and Little Bird

From the 2008 archives of b.b.flockling...

Efee and Little Bird. 

 (Ever so slowly, I would like to transfer my favorite stories here to serve
 as a visual journal

for the gentle characters who began their life in the Doll Room!) .

Arriving next from within the deep recesses of the Rainforest will be an Elder of great reknown...and affection. Her name is Efee. She is, oh, about 700 years old ~ give or take a 100 years ~ and is the most treasured visitor of all the faerie children because of her fantastical stories and her seemingly bottomless heart. She finds room for all the young faes in her generous heart, and they know it well!

Queen of Emerald City

In the Land of OZ,  young Queen Ozma
reigns on a benevolent throne.







Winged monkeys welcome visitors
at the glittering Gates of



Emerald City.









A place we all long to visit,
on the other side of the Rainbow. 








Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.


 

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,

 
  
 
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.
 

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me.
 
 

  
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me.

 

 

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
 
 

 
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can't I?
Where happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?
 
 

 
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true! 

  Thank you for meeting Ozma, and
traveling over the rainbow with me...Rose 


 

Icelandic Faerie Mitzl (b.b.flockling archives 02/09)

 

    
    
  
 

Baby Antje

a




Woodland Faerie Cocoon




Baby Antje
 




In the early spring, as the forest faeries begin clearing  the winter debris

 from their overgrown flower gardens,

a very observant eye might catch a glimpse of a small bundle of white fluff ...





Baby Cocoons.





Hidden in tree trunks or tucked under a gangle of roots.





Upon closer inspection, they might just find a little slumbering face

 sleeping in the midst of a white fluffy cloud.

A baby who has became lost somewhere in between.
 
Still in winged form.
Patiently awaiting her human home.


 


To be called by a lullaby   carried along by a morning breeze.   A lullaby sung from the longings of her new mother's heart ...

 
   
" Hush now baby, don't you cry
rest your wings my butterfly ..."

 




 
 " Peace will come to you in time
I will send this lullaby.
you'll find your way, my Love ... "
                                    Josh Groban and Ladysmith Black Mambazo




The baby begins to stir,
Her wings are set aflight!
For her journey Home.
 
 

Thank You for traveling along with me
 on this tender journey of imagination! Rose