THE WOODLAND WAIF...

The little waif wandered about the woodlands on a pleasant autumn day.   The sky was blue, the air soft and cool, and the leaves were turning vibrant colors of red, yellow, and orange.  Fuzzy grey squirrels flitted hither an thither chattering away as they gathered up their winter store.  Wee birds twittered high above her head, pouring forth a sweet carol of joy.  All the earth seemed lovely; and the light heart of the child beat in joyous unison with the beauty of nature.

("Woodland Waif" Mixed Media Art Dress by Sandy Babb)

On she sped, pursuing with fleet footsteps the twirling leaves raining down on a gentle wind, making a game of trying to catch them, pausing every now and again to pluck a late blooming wildflower whose beauty and fragrance allured her.  She thought the beauty of these fading things should adorn her wee plain dress of bark,  little cap sleeves were fashioned from leaves and wildflowers were tucked into the mossy hem of her gown.  

Soon she tired of chasing leaves on the wind and began to follow the windings of a rippling brook, flinging pebbles, and laughing to see the white foam dash up or dropping her remaining prize leaves and blossoms to sail as a fleet.  She gathered pretty pebbles and added them her hem of moss, her version of sparking jewels.  Pretty toadstools  growing near the bank were plucked and added to her garment as well.

The snapping of a twig overhead and a soft thud at her feet captured her attention, there before her lay the perfect gathering pocket for her fine forest frock, a small birds nest attached to the twig.  Saddened by the loss of a place for her bird friends to rest, she invited them to travel along with her, thus happily the hours glided by all unheeded and twilight shadows began to deepen

The brook's winding way had led her deeper into the forest; above her huge trees arched their boughs, dark with intertwined branches.  Around her was a tangled undergrowth of shrubs.  She began to grow weary.  It was now quite dark: the rising wind sighed among the pine boughs a song she was accustomed too, her nightly lullaby.  With no bed but the dead leaves, no pillow but the moss tufts, she made herself comfortable and fell asleep where she dreamed of what tomorrows woodland adventures would bring.

I will be having my own little woodland adventure later this week and I can't wait to share you with you my new woodland gear!

Blessings,
Sandy