Fairy Woodland
Fairy Store

Life begins with an open and unlimited imagination. We invite you see with your imagination and give yourself permission to believe what you see. The world is alive, Fairies are real, and they peek out at us from every Earth place that remembers the wild. Let the Fairies take your imagination by the hand and lead you to the threshold. On the other side, there is magic.

Timmelwith; CY55

 Timmelwith; CY55 in  at Fairy Woodland
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Dimensions: 17 x 11 x 18

Wood: driftwood from the north coast of the Olympic Penninsula; cedar shake roof
Stones: Coastal stones with imbedded shell & quartz from the Olympic Penninsula, shiny black stones from Crescent Lake; polished agates
Sand: mystic sand

The lady of the house is out there again, cajoling one of the timbers on her scraggly old house to stay put.
“I know you remember when trees walked, dear one. But you can’t do that anymore. You’re supporting my house!” she says.
The house creaks a little as the timber eases back into position.
Broomwilde has lived here for a very long time, but the house is centuries older than she is, and the builder, long gone to spirit, did not choose his wood wisely. The front timber not only has legs left from when trees wandered, but has a huge wisdom knot on the north side. This makes it very curious and wishing to wander and see the world like it used to. All fine and good - but when this timber goes off, the roof falls down. Broomwilde doesn’t like messy roofs. She’s tired of fixing it.
Usually the other pieces of wood can keep the wanderer, a vintage piece of Aplikasa, amused enough to stay and fulfill its house duties. But sometimes, like last night, a garuda or djin will see that huge old wisdom knot from up in the sky, assume it’s an oracle of some sort and come down to chat. That never fails to start the wanderlust up all over again.
“Poor Timmelwith.This old house has had to move several times just since I’ve lived here.” Broomwilde recalls, shaking her head sadly. “Once that old timber just had to see if swamps truly glow in the dark. So it dragged us across the country to live by a swamp.   It did glow...but I’m not a swamp fairy, so that was rough on me. It’s much nicer up here, sitting on this rock, tracking the ways of eagles. I don’t know for sure where we might end up next.”
The house shifts again, walls bending and stretching as the wood, sensing the lady is preoccupied elsewhere, takes a tiny step south.


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