Do any now know the truth?
I have always loved walking around graveyards. Now, your first reaction to this may be to think how very morbid, but whilst there may be a slight element of this, it is not really the case. Growing up in the middle of a busy town, one of the few places where we could go for walks away from the traffic and the monotonous sights of man-made structures, was the sprawling, tree-filled expanse of the nearby Polish War Cemetery.
When I was very small it was just a safe place to burn off excess energy – as long as we didn’t run over the graves or disturb any mourners (this respect was always drummed into us). As I grew older, however, I began to look at the gravestones themselves and I began to wonder about the people buried there.
I now live in a village with only a small graveyard around the church, but I still like to wander among the graves, read the worn writing and wonder.
Who were they?
What did they do during their lives?
Who did they love?
Who did they hate?
Who mourned at their passing?
Who celebrated their lives?
All I ever have are unanswered questions and my own imaginings, but I am happy with this. Maybe someday I’ll look into some of the names I find on the stones – the historian side of me whispers of local archives and family histories – but I think that if I ever start to look into any family history, I probably ought to make it my own!
Snowdrop trotted through the forest, enjoying the fresh spring day: the new growth all around him, the flowers blooming in wild profusion beneath his hooves. He loved to run and jump and frolic amongst the blossoms. It was fun – and fun was sometimes hard to be found amongst the stuffy elders of the herd. Continue reading
I wasn’t too happy with the fairies on the illustration for The Lost Unicorn – Version 3 – they were too small for me to include any detail and the picture was rather rushed. So today I thought I’d paint a slightly larger picture of Flissy, the fairy in the story.
So here you go.
I’ve also replaced the pictures on version 2 and version 3 with photographs taken in daylight. They were painted in the evening after I finished work and, because I wanted to get the posts straight up, the photos were taken in artificial light – which wasn’t the best idea. My white unicorn looked rather brown!
And now, a few words about my art.
Until a few months ago I had never really used watercolour paints and, whilst I’ve painted acrylic on canvas for several years (mainly nature scenes), my study of art ended with high school. Because of this, all my illustrations are a case of trial and error as I try to work out what works and what doesn’t. I currently have a steadily growing list of things that I need to practise (different body positions, hands and horses’ eyes for starters…). When beginning The Storyteller’s Abode, however, I made the decision that the style of art I wanted for the children’s role-play scenery was most suited to watercolour and ink. Whether or not I made the right decision is yet to be seen!
Any advice is very gratefully received…
There are many different creatures that make their home in The Enchanted Forest: fairies and dragons, pixies and goblins, giants, trolls and ogres. The rarest and most beautiful creatures of all, however, are the unicorns. With long, flowing manes that shimmer like spun gold in the sunlight, coats of purest white, and elegant twists of golden horn, they are a sight to take your breath away.
This tale is about the youngest of the unicorns. Continue reading
Many different creatures live in the Enchanted Forest but the most beautiful of all are the unicorns. With long, flowing manes that shimmer in the sunlight, coats of purest white, and elegant twists of golden horn, they are a sight to take your breath away.
The youngest of the unicorns is called Snowdrop and this is his tale.
Gather around. Make sure you’re sitting comfortably and listen to the storyteller’s tale…
As a children’s storyteller, preparing a story suitable for only a single age group is not enough. One day I can be entertaining a group of three-year-olds, the next, seven-year-olds. For this reason when I write a story I try to prepare several different versions of it, each aimed at a different age group. Prior to sharing a few stories with you I thought I’d say a little bit about what this generally entails. Continue reading
as the wheel turns,
held at bay by
autumn’s vibrant expression,
a flame-like conflagration
painted across nature’s canvas.
Seeds settle to ground,
cradled amidst fallen leaves;
nurtured by yesteryear’s
A balance of life and
Time to reflect
all that passed before
as earth transitions into
Copyright © 2014 Louise Bunting