Welcome

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.

Watch out Mrs Mole!


One evening in the underground nest of the Mole family Mrs Mole was about to give the molets their supper -a bowl of fresh, juicy worms- when they were all distracted by the muffled sound of footsteps above them. Suddenly the roof began to shake, the ceiling began to crumble (making a dreadful mess she noted) and the walls of the nest echoed with a terrible sort of snuffling noise! And do you know what it was that caused this terrible comotion? Hedglings! Curious, clumsy Hedglings investigating the small mounds of earth which mark the doors to the nest.

Earth and dust and mess everywhere, and Peg Hedgling's snuffly nose in the middle of it all! Well, the molets thought it was lots of fun and they were very late to bed, but my goodness! When Mr Mole got home to find it was rather more sunny around the roof than usual our spiny friends were in trouble. Mr mole marched them straight to Grandpa Hedgling (well, not entirely straight, Mr Mole's eyesight is bad even for a mole, Spike had to point him in the right direction a few times!)

Grandpa agreed that Spike and Peg should deliver fresh beetles, slugs and worms for the molets supper every evening for a week, AND tell them a bedtime story (but nothing to get them over excited, young moles can get very bouncy around bedtime). So for the following week, all of Spike and Peg's spare time was taken up with gathering food and thinking up stories for the molets. Although this meant that they had no time to get into more mischief, they had no problems thinking up stories, they just remembered all of their adventures together and told those.

"Did you REALLY Spike??", "Is it true Peg??" the molets asked with wide eyes.

"No, not really....that would have been a very mischievous adventure!" Peg grinned at Spike and they kissed the molets goodnight.

"Goodnight Hedglings! See you tomorrow!"