Thursday, February 2, 2012

The White Willow

     The soft, green grass gently swayed, as a slow breeze, drifted through the glade. Along the blades, weaving its way more nimble than the wind, and just as fast, darted a shape. Dark, and featureless, it grew and shrank, to a perfect rhythm, connected by an invisible tie, to its master, far above, among the clouds.


     The bird softly pumped its wings up and down, a small twig in her mouth, as she passed over the long glade far below, bound for her soon to be home, in the tall trees beyond the fields.


     Spying her tree, by pure instinct alone, among the thousands of tall pines. She started her slow descent downward, careful not to lose the last bit to her little nest among the leaves.


     As she spiraled lower and lower, and the trees grew greater in size, the tiny stick in her mouth lost a piece. So small, her wings didn't miss a beat, and her home would still be complete. But, that teeny, tiny ball of brown, that split off that branch, would make all the difference in the world.


     Further and further it fell, faster than the wind, and as noiseless as the bird, it came from the sky, and laid to rest among the tall this grass far below.


     Months passed. And there, it sank, below the sun, below the greens and the golds, and into the soft, fertile soil below.
     
     The sun began to tilt, and along with the leaves of the trees, the seasons began to turn. The fields whispered songs of gold, and the forest floor was bathed in red. The nest which the mother bird had so diligently watched over, was abandoned, her eggs long hatched, and babies, gone their own way.


     The nights grew longer, and the air, like the edge of a knife, was sharp, and cold as a razor. And at long last, snow fell, and the world was bathed in white.


     Time grew on, and not but the light tracks of a deer or winter jack, showed any sign of life. Only when the sun began to turn once again, did the glade awaken once more.


     The rolling hills of snow began to disappear, and below, the fields were born once more. Buds sprouted from the long tree limbs, and spring began once again.


     Though, far below, something stirred...


     February and March rolled by, carrying on their backs the great spring rains, dousing everything below, and breathing life into a sea of flowers, sending the sweet scent of narcissus and hyacinth rolling across the hills, and through the valley floor.


     April came, and a storm, of which the likes of had never been seen before, and would never be seen again. Water poured from above for days, lightning flashed, and the winds turned the fields to a foaming sea of grass, dirt, and debris.


     Two weeks passed.


     And then, in the dark of the night, the clouds broke, and parted, to reveal, the full seed moon.


     It was then, in the light of the moon, and the damp of the earth, that the seed, began to grow. All along the center of the coarse, brown shell, a fine line appeared, growing slowly at first, then faster, as the moon's light blue rays, touched the pale, white leaves within.


Roots broke from the bottom, while the small sapling above grew. No more than the size of the twig it had fallen from so long ago, the very first tendrils of branches began to reach out. In an hour, the feeble sapling had grown to the size of a five year old pine, and after two, it far above the reach of a man.


     The moon sank low beyond the horizon, and from the east, the first peaks of gold shone between the trees.


     At last, the sun broke free, and shed light on the spectacle below.


     There, among a thousand sparkling drops of dew, upon the tallest of hills, stood a great, white tree.


The White Willow








Light's Blessing
Fox

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Against the Grain

I thought i'd share this amazing amazing video with you all, you can find the original here http://vimeo.com/31939621, this took my breath away the first time I watched it. The creator used stop animation, and it took him "Hundreds and hundreds of hours in a dark room, at home" :)))))) I hope you all enjoy :))))))






Hudson - Against The Grain from Dropbear on Vimeo.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

The Snow Moon, Happy New Year :)

The rain outside fell steadily, drenching the trees, and soil below, creating little streams, and washing away the dust and dirt of so many months past. No more than a whisper of wind, rustled the dripping leaves, and all around, the world was silent, save for the magickal sound, of rain. Hours passed by, the sky grew dark, and all around the bustle of homes began. Windows and curtains were shut and drawn, and in the dying light, the gentle ebb of wood stove smoke, could be seen rising from above the forest abodes. Time moved on, and the fresh smell of pine from the trees, mixed with the rain and smoke, picked up the scent of food being cooked, warm, home cooked meals, fitting for the storm all around. Beans cooked on the fire, corn bread and soup, hot sandwiches and cider, and cocoa to boot. The woods grew thick with their collective aromas, until at last the first lights, began to click off. At first, one home, and then two, more and more followed, until at last, the world, was completely dark. And the tap, tap, tap of rain, finally began to die away, ever so slowly. So slowly it went, that had one even been awake, they never would have noticed, until it was gone. The leaves grew quiet, and save for the last, little drips, the world was calm. 


The night darkened even further, and with the rain now long gone, the temperature, dropped. Like a stone into water. A fragile frost began to form along the rims of the tree's leaves, and the grass below, grew white, yet still the world was dark. From far above, the cloud rolled by, bearing one final gift, for the world below. At last, the first speck of white, was seen. Twirling, ever so softly slowly, from the sky, swaying, this way, and that, before finally settling on a lone blade of frozen grass, on the very tip. 


Hundreds more fell from the sky, like stars returning to retrieve their fallen brethren. The silence was broken only by a gentle.. pat...pat....pat... As the flakes slowly blanketed the world in snow. The grass soon disappeared, and the treetops turned white, followed at last by the roofs of all the homes, leaving only a small hole, where the chimney lay. At last, the world was clean, buried in a sheet of pure white, and at last, the clouds began to part. Revealing behind their shadowy veil, the full, November moon, the moon, made of snow.





Merry Meet, Merry Part, And Merry Meet again
Light's Blessing 
Fox





Short Epilogue::
The clouds passed away, and at last, the moon was free, allowed to turn her gaze on the world below, and see what had been given to her. The ground shone white, beneath her cool, blue rays. And every small crystal of snow, like diamonds in the sea of the sky, reflected. The trees glistened, and the world shone, anew. 

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Tree of Life



Today I just thought i'd share a small picture I created using particle arrays. I've been considering writing a passage around this, but can't seem to settle on exactly what to say lol :) We'll see. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy :)










Light's Blessing
Fox

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Misc passage No. 10

A small little incomplete passage :) I fully intend to finish this one, and give it a title :) But I thought i'd share it anyways :) I hope you enjoy :)




A cold autumn breeze drifted through the forest.Unabashed and unchallenged, it swished it's way through the now bare trees, chilling their bark, and leaving a frost on the fallen leaves below. The sky was gray, and not a soul was to be found. Squirrels, long buried in their nests in preparation for winter, were nowhere to be seen. The geese had long ago flown south, and the once frog, and cricket filled pond, was now silent, and a thin layer of ice, polished the surface. The path that had once made its way through the woods, was lost, buried under a blanket of leaves, and every trace of human activity, had gone. Save for a small, quietly crackling fire, amidst the woods. Nothing more than a small pile of sticks and twigs, the tiny light, gave off little heat. Around it, the leaves had been cleared back, and a flattened rock, cleared of any debris. On this sat an old man, his hands pressed close to the flames, soaking up any heat that was being given off. Beside him, in the nearest, old oak tree, perched a crow, no younger than the man. Each appeared to be well worn, the bird, having many a ruffled feather, carried a hint of gray, all across her coat, while the man held his share of time's lines.




Merry Meet, Merry part, and Merry Meet again




Light's blessing
Fox




AzureGreen- Celebrating All Paths to the Divine