A Christmas Fantasy at "In a Heartbeat"

Once again I am surrounded by paintings and frames, getting ready for the Christmas Fantasy art show at the In a Heartbeat Gallery. In addition to fairy art from "The Illustrated Fairy Gazettes" we will also hang originals from two earlier books, Woodland Christmas and Woodland Nutcracker. The image above is from "Woodland Nutcracker", showing Grandfather and Clara with her handsome Nutcracker Bear. Adventure is only hours away.....



and a royal welcome awaits....
But I'm getting ahead of the story. It begins like this:

"Long ago, far away from highways and city lights, where bright stars touched the tree tops and forest roots touched the edges of frozen lakes, a woodland family welcomed relatives and friends
to a Christmas Eve party in their cosy island home.
Softly falling snowflakes drifted into the cottage as the guests arrived."*

And the rest, as they say, is magic.

*Text copyright Avril Tyrrell, 1999

Remembrance Day

"We will remember them"

At the local cenotaph the wreaths were placed on Sunday and today the main events take place at the centre of town. But a few people came here this morning to leave their poppy and remember the fallen. I came over early, camera in hand, to take a picture with the sun rising - and the camera jammed completely. But I do remember them.

I remember ... my mother telling me of the skies over her London suburb dark with planes, of hearing Chamberlain's 1939 radio broadcast "This country is now at war with Germany"", of their classroom windows covered with glued shatter-proof netting, of nights spent in an air raid shelter, and more. It wasn't sure that the Allies would win.

And we are in uncertain times yet. Young people who don't look much older than my teenager's friends have enlisted, wanting to be a force for good in the world. So I am grateful this day to be here, a fortunate descendant of brave people, that kind hands loaned me a camera, and that good brave people - before whom I am humbled - are passing on the torch and going forward, despite the dangers.

All Souls Night and All Saints Day

"Make a wish"

Halloween is an appropriate time to reflect on little black cats. Tiger Tim is the tabby who walks alone, but Merry follows me around like a shadow. For variety she anticipates my moves and gets there first. After her first year spent in a shelter, this little house presents a maze of possibilities. Black as Kohinoor's India Ink, she settles herself in the darkest patterned areas of carpet, behind a curtain, on an unlit section of the stairs or in corners I hadn't even noticed before. Only a blink of her green eyes shows that she is there. Yesterday she was just inside the bedroom closet - where, oh horrors, I stepped on her soft paw before I could see her. (St. Gertrude of Nivelles is the patron saint of cats.)

In Scottish tradition black cats are considered good luck. (St. Andrew, patron saint of Scotland) After a run of nuisance problems I could wonder about that, but good things are happening too. I have an art show coming up in November. Last weekend I made the hour's drive north to visit the gallery again. (Saint Christopher, patron saint of travellers) It is a scenic trip away from the highways and up past the Niagara escarpment, through farming country and small towns.


Arriving in Eden Mills we crossed the bridge and there it was, the In a Heartbeat Gallery. (Who is the patron saint of artists? I had thought St Luke, whose portrait of the Madonna was the template for women in medieval art. It seems there are three more: Angelico, Catherine of Bologna, and Saint Michael the Archangel. A learned friend says that Saint Michael is also the patron saint of fairies.)


"In a Heartbeat" is currently featuring the work of sculptor Jamie Brick. Avril's latest article for Faerie Magazine was about Jamie and his highly imaginative work. (St. Claud, patron saint of sculptors)

In a Heartbeat is a lovely gallery with an almost fairy tale quality. The wood-burning stove is welcoming on these cooler days and the big sofa beckons you to sit down and enjoy the art. We looked over the paintings I had brought and discussed dates and lead-up preparations. After concluding our business we took a little walk up the road to see the mill pond and the eponymous mill wheel of Eden Mills. It was quiet this day, but in September Eden Mills is bustling with the annual writer's festival . (Saint Francis de Sales, patron saint of writers)

Then home again under steel-blue skies, passing by fields remembered in Thanksgiving hymns , "Come ye Thankful People Come", "We Plough the Fields and Scatter". (Saint Isidore the farmer, patron saint of farmers and labourers)


I have my voice back and I can join in the hymns again, with enthusiasm if not talent. (Saint Cecilia, patron saint of music, and St. Jude, patron saint of lost causes) Why the list of saints? Halloween is an enjoyable diversion, but the day after is the prize, All Saints Day.

Rose Hips and Autumn Days

The last rose of summer may have danced away, but in fairy kitchens the magic continues. A handful of plump and glossy rose hips, collected in the summer and lined up in a row on the windowsill, led to "Rose Hip Kitchens", one of our Illustrated Fairy Gazette contributors.


The rose hips are over now
but berries are still on the
vines,










milkweed floss is floating over the fields


and along the ravines the leaves are turning gold. I haven't been up to the woods in months, too busy between work and then surgery, but Tippy and I are back to a full walking schedule again. Some of my favourite trees were cut down this summer, they must have been in the way of Parks Improvement projects - widened paths or old tree maintenance.

My very favourite tree escaped.
A remnant from the cottage-country years before urban planning reduced the green space, it is the last of the apple trees along this particular green corridor.


It beckons young climbers and there are several doors and windows, suitable for fairy comings and goings.



Closer to home geese scattered as we came near another tree, except for these greedy two. Who knew that Canada Geese eat green apples?



(The rare four legged Canada Goose, a species not unlike Hugh Lofting's pushmi-pullyu)




More about Hugh Lofting in another post.I grew up with Dr. Dolittle, Jip the dog and company, and better book company can not be had!

Speaking of Jip the dog - time for another walk.
Best wishes all

Dancing to Willow's Ball

Rose Peace, the Last Rose of Summer, is dancing her way to Willow Manor Ball, taking a route Down by the Sally Gardens (on little snow white feet). Her dance card is almost full, but she still needs a partner for "Let's Have a Ceilidh" - perhaps Davy Nick Nack will be there......

Dulce Domum

On the number plate for my house is a scene from Wind in the Willows. Mole and Ratty in the little blue-painted boat is a vignette of perfect friendship and domestic harmony. Ratty is an engaging character: outgoing, sympathetic, reliable, capable, resourceful and kind. Bless Kenneth Grahame for seeing these possibilities in the common water rat.

But who really feels an affinity for rattus norvegicus? When he tries to make his home in a human habitation it cannot be Happy Ever After; it is unhealthy for the humans and ultimately disastrous for the rat and his kin.

Idling at the traffic lights on the local high street I saw a little brown creature with that characteristic slinking side-to-side gait. He sniffed under an open door and then flattened himself and crept into the store. Drawn probably by the warmth, he couldn't know that within this cavern of silkiness and perfume and elegantly thin models there would be not a crumb to eat, not even a morsel of rice-cracker or drop of Slim-fast.

Where did he come from? Up from the harbour, probably, or evicted from some other dwelling. I know this store, they have lovely things and although I cannot afford to shop there I often pause to admire. So I quickly parked and went in to tell the lone saleswoman about her guest. He sat against folds of oyster-coloured satin and turned his head this way and that, nose twitching.

"Pardon me, but a rat... "

"Where? " She moved quickly.

"Here, in front of me - no, down by you now, between the rack and the magazines" - for he moved around and searched for new corners as we spoke. He looked, for a moment, both incongruous and pretty, with silky brown fur showing very well against the rich drapery of a display table. Then he simply disappeared, and not out the door. We prowled around the store cautiously, but could find neither tail nor whisker of him.

I had to go on my way eventually. I would like there to be a happy ending to this story, something for a picture book. It was more likely a baited trap.

Papa above!
Regard a Mouse
O'erpowered by the Cat!
Reserve within thy kingdom
A "Mansion" for the Rat!

Snug in seraphic Cupboards
To nibble all the day
While unsuspecting Cycles
Wheel solemnly away!

Emily Dickinson

PS. I think I have a happy ending for him, stay tuned.

High Flight and Poppy Cat

Poppy Cat slipped out of my pencil many year ago, inspired by the shower of poppy seeds from the dried seed heads in the garden - a scattering of pepper in the air, like something from A Midsummer Nights Dream.

Do fairies and flying creatures capture the imagination because of a common wish that we could also take wing? To my four-year old mind it had made sense. I reasoned that I could fly: lift one leg off the ground, then the other, then hover. What was not to work? I tried it and the floor came up to meet me. Gravity. I still remember the pattern of the linoleum on my knees. But in dreams I still fly.

High Flight

"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds,
– and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless falls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, nor eer eagle flew –
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand and touched the face of God."
John Gillespie MaGee

Best wishes, dreamers and fairy followers all.