I renamed the post in honor of the brilliant story about "tomlin" in the comments...
The country folks would never cut the last tree or bush from a field when clearing.
Reasoning was this would destroy the last protective quarters for the "little people". And well if you upset the little people you've erred indeed.
So this tree remains in deep center field of a ball field and on the edge of a playground. notice the tire behind the tree.
It also speaks the wisdom folks expressed in days gone by. For it is wise to protect the places where your imagination springs forth. Allowing something to interfere with the imagination was obviously a considerable matter of consequence. And we would be wise to take pains to safeguard our own imaginations too. Anything that might have a destructive nature on that portion of our personality should be let go :) (in my humble opinion) - that's what this tree means to me.
So here tis...
It does muse and amuse me - i love it dearly...
I took the picture with my phone,
sorry the faerie didn't come through in the photo...
how do they do it???
I would love to hear your faerie tree story... comment or leave a link
4 comments:
What a lovely photo! Have a great weekend! :)
This reminds me of trail riding in my teen years. I used to look at every bit of moss and every crevise and imagine the wee creatures, faeries and elves, that must live there.
I no longer own horses, but seeing the woods with those "eyes" is still a joy.
there was this goblin, his name was tomlin and he lived with his family and friends. but many they were, much noise and distraction, and trouble found tomlin through mischief and boredom as green fields were so far away. one day, off he wandered, searching to find, a place of his own to stay. the place in his mind had space and warm beds, hidden from human eyes. outside his door he pictured a meadow with green grass and flowers galore. there he’d run and play till tired, and no one would be in his way. many days he wandered, searching not finding, his heart and his hope sinking low. before he’d rest he said he’d climb finally that mountain top straight up ahead. there, as he reached it and look down upon, a tree with a hole at the base? stretching as far as his eyes could see was a valley and green fields aplenty. a bubbling brook and the songs of the birds filled his eyes with music untold. with a rush of relief, and finally peace, this is now tomlin’s house.
thank you, i feel honoured.
your sentiments on the imagination? i totally agree with you. i love what the tree means to you.
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