Some garden critters

Some more concrete visitors to my back yard...


The autumn sun was shining, and the air was cool.

It'd been raining for a week but when I came outside here they were all washed clean and surrounded by green and colour..

These ones are concrete, and I didn't draw them but they gve me pleasure... anyway

This one hides and smiles... thats all.













She tends a flower which spreads and spreads...thats okay...
How could this not make you feel less serious and sad?

They're every where if we just see

They're everywhere..everywhere...



can't help but see them...ahhh a walk amongst the trees... Mythago Woods,,,,so good.

The Fam

The Fam forever...across time, across space, across all that seeks to reason, to bind, to hold, to stay...

Sweet late autumn

And here they are... its Autumn again and out under the trees across the paddock they picnic... they picnic royally as if time was not and night was not and winter was not...

They're everywhere.

I know it must be a bright sunlit day somewhere because they shine, but here in the wee small hours its still dark outside, and a waning moon sails endlessly in a quiet sky above my head. The stars are all out as we say, but they are always there, we just don't see them...so say "the stars are out" the faeries think the way we put things is amusing... like saying "The sun is rising" we know it doesn't rise, the earth turns... if they amuse me how much more so must we amuse them, sadden them also... but not for long, with them all is speed and light and colour...

They are like mini angels... sure God or whatever enables the flowers to be so perfectly coloured in colours we try to but can never reproduce, not really...to our eyes maybe.

Its the touch of God, of Angel of Faery which enables the light to shine out of the flowers, and the hills and the oceans...

As with the angels, some faeries may be a little bit fallen from time to time, might sip a bit too much nectar of the gods, or not always be dressed as we think faeries should be, or dressed at all...

There are lots of "Rudy Trudy" faeries about... all depends on how you see them and now you see them , now you don't..

It must be the time of year...

Early autumn...well autumn... all of it, has always been a favourite season. This year I need all the faery faces with their quick smiles and fast light about me as I get through what must be done, because it is the right thing to do and because of a love that is forever.

Some family faeries from long long ago... somewhere they live still in a toy house, enjoying autumn days that end with the gold of a sunset that never ends.

I have seen the Coogee Faeries before...

and here they are back again. When I was at my eldest's place... an old semi detached house near Coogee beach (Sydney)... I had plenty of reading time, plenty of dreaming time and some crying time...as well as lots of laughter...

at the back of the house is a long flight of wooden outside steps leading to a small postage stamp size yard in which her old cat dreams away the days... the cat is an old alley cat... an Erskinville cat with moods all of his own... as he tossed and turned in sleep amongst the detritus of sticks and leaves in the yard a gaggle of faces swooped down about him, just missing his old paws as they whooshed about him... for the moment I heard, faint as to be almost not there... quick notes of music sounding like crystal would sound... if it had a sound... laughter and much revelry could be seen as the gentry teased the old cat... who was still too lazy to really do much at all about the disturbance of his sleep ...

then puff... they were just gone as if they had never been there at all.

Ninth Floor Faeries...

How on earth this window full of faces found me way up here above the ground...but there they are... I pulled back the blind early one morning while at my youngest daughter's place and first one face then the rest appeared like snow crystals on the window pane...

I hope they are up to the noise that will be here in a few days , once the Grand Prix gets underway...they won't be able to hear themselves think when that lot get underway...or maybe they are not from hereabouts but followed me from my Craggy Island home.

Maybe they are here looking out for my youngest in her little eyrie high above the pavements

The Heart faery allows for tears...

She stares back at us with all the compassion of the universe...allowing for our humanity. Tears are allowed to flow and grief be assuaged... memories are allowed to hover just beyond the vision of the day light...and she allows this, as all is in order.

Not the need to be logical, nor figure out...just to be...to be as raw as any gaping wound...

as the rain falls, so must the tears... and then the sun shines in the cool of early autumn days and the healing begins with all the savagery of having a knife rip open your chest... justice must be served and all is right in the heavens above...

the heart faery knows this.

In the quiet of a summer evening,

she peered slowly around from behind the tree outside the fence . I had gone up the padock to shut the gate and all around was still...the last rays of sun flushed the darkening land with gold and I thought my heart would burst ... she was gone before she really registered although she seemed to move so slowly...maybe it was that time itself had slowed down and she was just the flit of light before my eyes, but this registered... just the glimpse.



The old gate is saggy and needs a good lift to shut, and it stops nothing really as there is no bit of fence beside it. Its more a symbol of the closing of day and need for enclosure... it only stops nosy drivers who are too lazy to get out of their cars and open it... it says"hey you...this is the end of the road." I had people jusy driving up into my place pretending they didn't know they'd left the public road... too many opportunists around.



Must seem strange to the little face I saw when I was up there...dragging a bit of metal across the road... for what... she might wonder.



But then if our faeries and such have indeed followed us from out ancestral homes in Ireland and other such...they already know not to try and figure out the Celtic mind anyway. We need no reasons for much of what we do. Maybe thats why we hang about each other...



Then again, maybe I move too slowly for her to even register my passing and its a non issue totally...

The Faeries’ Road.

Sun! Mellow on this time, and all the world is quiet.
The trees are still, time is still -
All the world is watching for the change.

A flash! One brilliant light,
And the world is blue with twilight.
The leafy corners deepen, opening for the night.
The people leave - with primitive fears of night fall
And the forces governing
Are making a tally of the day.

Who is walking on the faeries’ road?
Following me.
I welcome them with my arms outstretched -
As night deepens, the world of misty life begins,
As in time forever.

Quiet! No reason to talk,
We’re home in the still bush.
Hills of gold go slowly in peace,
Like old people ambling down the street.

Down in the town people stir.
Boredom brings them to clubs and halls.
No time to sit on the ground
And watch the sky’s silky worship.
No time to sense the harmony that comes
When the forces suddenly show themselves
So in quiet we can understand...
And I understanding...know for the flash of light
All that is just and right.
I know how to be blithe along the faerie’s road,
Whether gravel or dirt...and lined with grassOr marbled and lined with precious jewels.

In through the sliding door ...

Came the night of Christmas Faeries

the night of Christmas

Waiting for Christmas leftovers, a scrap of tinsel, a golden star, an old bit of curly ribbon...

Not too proud to sift in the recycling bin for small bits of wildly coloured Christmas paper and the odd bit of Christmas cake...

sweeping up the icing sugar, the peanuts and the old prawn shells; Hoping for a bit of spilled home made gravy, a few scattered peas or beans and a bit of chicken

Their Christmas day begins as we fall asleep, already satiated by food and drunk on the giving, the drinking and the glitz

Some of us Australians

believe that Australian ancient history is very "unexplored" by the conventional historians and archeaolgists. Satellite images show that there was extensive mining all up the east coast of Queensland from Gympie to Cairns and many examples of Phonecian, Chinese, Egyptian, Celtic and other coins, statues etc have been found here. Its a brave professional who appempts to repelase these sorts of findings as extensoive as they are.

The Bradshaw Paintings in the Kimberelys have not been explained by concentional history and tribal elders explain that these are not aboriginal art be more ancient...
http://tls.timesonline.co.uk/printFriendly/0,,2180-23191-2286453-23191,00.html

and here are some other such
Awareness Quest's Dedication to Other Researchers
Val Osborn: Discoverer of a 3,000-year-old mine and harbour at Sarina on the coast of central Queensland is set to change Australian, if not world history. here
Rex Gilroy: No one could publish anything on Australian Mysteries without mentioning Rex Gilroy. He is known for his lifelong fascination and research into all aspects of Australian unexplained mysteries and enigmas of our prehistory. Rex Gilroy dares to question the blind dogma of scientific conformity with evidence for which university text books have no answers. Rex has two books available and a new website:
Brett Green: Check out his web page here UPDATED
Graham Walsh: Check out Graham's web page (sorry broken link)
Paul White: Of "Maggies Farm" magazine fame will soon have his long awaited book available. Paul has also produced and directed a four part video series called "Ancient Secrets" as well as writing many facinating articles about his research which can be viewed by clicking here
Dr Anthony G. Wheeler: Author of a report called "Australian Pyramids". More...
Ogham Historical Society, Brisbane Queensland: A volunteer non-profit association of friendly people of good character who have an interest in ancient Irish history and the associated historical streams related to the cultures and the movement of peoples in ancient times. More...
Greg Jeffery: Authored a report on the 'Gympie Pyramid' theories...UPDATED
Gilbert Deam: Has compiled newspaper clippings and articles into a photocopied book called "In search of Australia's Lost Pyramids". Now he has his second compilation out called "Ancient and Mysterious Discoveries in Australia". Available from Gil at P.O.Box 167, Gympie Queensland 4570, Australia.
Martin Doutre: Ancient Celtic New Zealand
New Zealand: Integrity Research Foundation. Contact: Dr Gary Cook. gcook@compuserve.com Gary Cook and Thomas Brown have authored a book called "The Secret Land 1, People Before"
New Zealand: Ross Wiseman: Author of four books which his latest presents evidence that the first settlers of New Zealand were Phoenician navigators who arrived 2000 years ago... he can be contacted via snail mail at Discovery Press, 22 Mountain Road, Henderson Valley, Auckland 8, NZ.
There are a lot more researchers than listed.

So no wonder these faeries have a strange resemblance to some fancy ladies from ancient Egypt, with even a red headed Celt thrown in for good measure...

They've been waiting an awful long time to be able to be seen for what they really are...and they know how to wait... took me ages to even see them for the first time... had to turn the tele off first.

Why shut the curtains?

Twilight falls and the sky darkens... a thousand green things huddle and shiver. the sun has taken its gold and colour deepens. It gets darker outside. About to shut the curtains because light inside means lit up like a beacon outside...age old fears of that...primeval fears of unknown things which creep and crawl and go bump in the night...

but then just as my hand is on the curtain this bunch of light filled faeries spring up against the window pane and I have to laugh...really what is there really to fear but fear itself. I have my cans of pepper spray, a few well placed hockey sticks, a loud dog and telephones everywhere.

They smash their faces hard up against the window and the one on the end with the red and green cap is barely given a spot... I am fond of these happy faced beings who inhabit my trees and look in my windows and know when I am doubting, know when I am in danger of growing old.

I refuse to live like this...curtains shut in the summer heat...better to let in the magic of the night air this summer evening .

I can live a long life with my curtains shut against the night...or I can live a long life with them open... I choose to leave them open and the windows as well and trust the old dog to bark; trust the pepper spray to do its work if needed and just hope I am lucky for now...

A few of these were looking in my window

just on sunset last evening. I was feeling a little lost and wondering how to get used to things after the changes this year.. missing my lovely Don but not wanting to cry again just before night time... A spark of the last ray of the sun made me turn to my window and then pull out my pens and pencils I spent the evening trying to get them as they were, but nowhere near the colours and the shine... don't have those skills yet...before I knew it it was midnight an I was so sleepy and shed nary a tear all night...



thanks to this pair of faery grief counsellors and their mates who have no training at all but commonsense and beauty, but who got me through this rough patch...

There is so much colour around my place, hidden away from town, everything seems to be rich in greens and pinks...red grevillias feed Rainbow lorikeets, Galah's look at me from the tree outside with that silly rat cunnung look I love to see...nobody's fool they just look like that... All the bush about Don nurtured and fed...have to hope the bush abouts where he is is lusher and greener and gentler...

The Faery King bejewelled us all


with drops of the sun's tears.

He laid the pearls upon our necks

and sought to ease our fears..

The Shadow People.

Old lame Bridget doesn't hear

Fairy music in the grass

When the gloaming's on the mere

And the shadow people pass:

Never hears their slow grey feet

Coming from the village street

Just beyond the parson's wall,

Where the clover globes are sweet

And the mushroom's parasol

Opens in the moonlit rain.

Every night I hear them call

From their long and merry train.

Old lame Bridget says to me,

"It is just your fancy, child."

She cannot believe I see

Laughing faces in the wild,

Hands that twinkle in the sedge

Bowing at the water's edge

Where the finny minnows quiver,

Shaping on a blue wave's ledge

Bubble foam to sail the river.

And the sunny hands to me

Beckon ever, beckon ever.

Oh! I would be wild and free,

And with the shadow people be.

Francis Ledwidge

The Discovery

Paul Laurence Dunbar
"These are the days of elfs and fays:
Who says that with the dreams of myth,
These imps and elves disport themselves?
Ah no, along the paths of song
Do all the tiny folk belong."

Some Spring morning faeries are hereabouts today.

The air is so fresh and cool and we are having the most wonderful spring days... the heat of summer is on its way but for now it is like heaven might be... or somewhere close to heaven.

On days like today you just can't ignore them and I know that soon I will begin to put their faces onto cards and such as Don pushed me to do before last Christmas.