Welcome to Harvest Moon, a place where the creatures and landscapes of my imagination take form and meet the world. Nestled in beneath the wild craggy tors of Dartmoor inspiration comes on chilly winds from moonlit landscapes of other realms which share this rugged, ancient land of gorse and granite. Living here I sometimes feel on a bridge between worlds and ages as the land speaks from spluttering streams and wind-beaten tors, telling stories of folk and beast, but only in snatches before the endings are whipped away down the valley with the broad river and out to sea. So here I will share these stories and characters and they can dwell in your own imagination, continuing their stories with infinite outcomes. This is how they live, enjoy them!

Wednesday, 4 May 2011

...the bluebells are here!

The Bluebell Wood

Down in the valley is a bluebell wood,
Not many go there but they really should,
For in amongst the bracken and the old oak trees
A thousand tiny purple bells tinkle in the breeze.

Back in the winter when the trees were bare,
All was quiet in the frosty air,
For all the little flower buds that soon would grow,
Were fast asleep beneath a rug of fresh white snow.

The old oaks trees stood bravely in the cols,
Patiently waiting for spring to unfold,
While all the woodland creatures were safe and sound
Hidden in their cosy hollows under the ground.

After the winter as the weather grew fair,
Out came the rabbit and the great March hare
Blackbirds nested under April showers
And at last the wood is flooded with a sea of flowers.

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