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Meanwhile,
we must return soon . . .
to the magic studio garden . . . .

Soon . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
we must return soon . . .
to the magic studio garden . . . .
(to see what has occurred in our absence!)

The Ogre was humming,
Do Re Mi, Tra La.
The Witch danced a Jig,
skirts twirling, hands a clapping.

The Elves chortled and laughed
in the sheer joy of the, unpaid for,
entertainment, and,
the Imps and Pixies plucked the strings
of their mandolins and guitars . . . .

In the Oak tree,
the Owl prepared
for his night of hunting prey.
It was Boxing Day with bells,
unabridged, from morn till dusk.

The dogs shot out from house to garden.
Stampeded round and round the garden.
Succeeded in spooking even the
ghostly Wolves and Wolverines?!

The Wizard, quite simply,
blew his gasket,
shook his fists
and muttered curses.
He stomped back and forth
to finally burst and,
with saturnine expression,
cast a spell.
The dogs were, to all intents,
transformed to sculpture art . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back at the magic studio garden . . . .

Christmas Day has been filtered
from the "look forward to's" of this year.
Gifts have been given,
received, accepted, rejected.
Placed somewhere safe
or put away to become
a future gift for a friend
during the approaching next year . . . .

The Elves were unlikely to consider this idea.
All things and everything belonged to them?!

The Flower Faeries
had set up a sort of "gift bank."
Their discarded rejects would be donated
to poor city Faeries living in ruined buildings,
building sites and in the gutters.

The Unicorn was, at this hour,
transporting the Witch
to visit relatives on a planet
far beyond Mercury.
Obscure!

The Ogre was not to be seen -
would reappear on the morrow,
with a belly ache, sore bottom
from too long sitting,
and a very sore head!

The Goblin and Elf
were returned to the fold,
happy to potter,
to re-connect with habits,
to re-establish routines,
etc. etc . . . .

The Magician had flown in
on the back of the Dragon,
his forgetful Wizard friend
dozing behind him.

With the Ghosts and Spectres
and the ghostly Wolves and Wolverines,
the garden was literatum - chockablock.
Interesting . . . .

What shall come to pass tonight?

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back at the magic studio garden . . . .

Christmas. Christmas . . . . and
the Witch was preparing Eggnog,
Spiced Apple drink,
gingerbread men
and marzipan sweets.

The Elves had hung their stockings
on the bushes closest to their "retreat."
T'was a foregone conclusion that,
no matter the weather,
a Faerie bearing gifts, would,
in the depths of the night,
have left a little "something" for each.

The Imps and the Pixies,
irked by the hustle and bustle,
traveled to far distant, unpopulated
or scarce-populated, lands.

The Flower Faeries rested,
their pre-Christmas duties over.
The Unicorn would need grooming,
sure, but
everything else . . . .
too bad?!

The Ogre was to visit obscure relatives
- somewhere and
the Gremlin and Goblin?
Who knows where they were this Christmas tide?!

The Dragon would arrive towards evening
and the Weasel, Stoat and Water Rat
were spending a short break
with the Mermaid.

Whoops, here's the Wizard.

Christmas cheers to you all!

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back at the magic studio garden . . . .

The Grunge bag was moaning,
sniffling and sneezing.
The creatures of the garden steered port and starboard,
any which way to avoid the grouchy Grunge.

The Elves and Imps and Pixie folk
were strumming their mandolins,
their banjos and their Elfin guitars.

The birds of Rhiannon had endeavoured
to accompany them in song - however . . . .
the flatness of the rendering
and the tonelessness slowly,
slowly wore them down.

As the morning progressed,
the Gremlin and the Goblin,
handsome in their suits,
stomped across the lawn
dragging cumbersome,
unimaginably heavy, trunk/suitcases.

The Fantasy station emerged from invisibility.
In the distance, the hoot of a train could be heard.

The Ogre's "station" was taken
by the Dragon and Unicorn,
conversing upon magic,
myths and legends and the history
of mythical beasts.

The Witch and the Wizard
were playing Patience and Snap.
Later in the day they'd add Whist and Poker . . . .

The Mermaid sang,
the Water Rat bellowed, and
the Flower Faeries perched delicately
on winter rose bushes and giggled and gossiped.

Buon Natale!!

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back at the magic studio garden . . . .

The traffic was crawling,
caterpillar mode and
the Pixies, Imps and Frog
were on tenterhooks -
late for a party . . . .

"Perhaps the Lady of the Mead
will late be, too? And -
the Elfin grotto is empty,
the Elves disinterested.
The Ogre would be
gigantically in the way."

Time wended its weary way
to the hour of darkness, when
the star-spangled lights
lit the garden with rainbows.

Those invited arrived
in their celebration finery.
The Orchestra tuned their instruments
and the party commenced.

T'was a night of glad tidings,
caroling and joy.
The Fantasy creatures were easy together -
until their Fantasy New Year?!

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back at the magic studio garden . . . .

The traffic was crawling,
caterpillar mode and
the Pixies, Imps and Frog
were on tenterhooks -
late for a party . . . .

"Perhaps the Lady of the Mead
will late be, too? And -
the Elfin grotto is empty,
the Elves disinterested.
The Ogre would be
gigantically in the way."

Time wended its weary way
to the hour of darkness, when
the star-spangled lights
lit the garden with rainbows.

Those invited arrived
in their celebration finery.
The Orchestra tuned their instruments
and the party commenced.

T'was a night of glad tidings,
caroling and joy.
The Fantasy creatures were easy together -
until their Fantasy New Year?!

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
out in the magic studio garden . . . .

Crêpe de chine,
spider web gossamer and pearls,
the Witch was "on show," so to speak,
before the carriage arrived
to transport her to the Witches' ball.

The Witch had had an exhausting day,
looking after the Ogre.
His arthritis was painful,
his tummy upset and his mood was dour.

The Flower Faeries
had long ago retired to sleep,
worn down by the Elves'
unkind and thoughtless nitpicking.

The Ogre, too, had gone home to rest,
(after sleeping all day).
Twas the Unicorn onliest left
in the garden,
to champ the grasses
and drink from the crystal clear water
of the garden pond . . . .

Peter & Debbie

And so,
out in the magic studio garden . . . .

The house would have to undergo
a post-Christmas spruce.
Buckets and mops,
dusters and polish.
Aprons and pinafores,
rubber gloves and bristle brushes.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies
were banned from entry from today
'til the New Year . . . .

The Cook breathed a sigh of relief,
(she badly needs a break)
donned her apron, kitchen gloves
and toque blanche hat . . . .
Began banging saucepans
and cooking pots,
rattling cutlery etc.

The Head gardener had little left to do,
the under gardeners raked the paths
and cleared the shed
and the greenhouse.

The Witch was casting Christmas spells
in response to requests or "I want" wish lists
from families she knew to be too poor
to celebrate festivals save by dance or song.

As the cuckoo clock chimed 12.00 O’clock,
midday, the screech of brakes announced
that my sister was near arrived . . . .

The songs of the Mermaid
drifted sweet on the air,
as she swan in our pond for her
"change of scene" visit.

The Goblin and the Gremlin
were playing their banjo and mandolin
airs and the birds of Rhiannon accompanied them.

Ah!

The fields of Elysium . . . . !

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,,
out in the magic studio garden . . . .

The Elves had got hold of
a roll of bubble pack.
They had unrolled it and
were stamping excitedly upon it . . . .
Pop!!

The Pixies and the Imps
were abroad in the fields,
competing as to which of them
could balance on cut corn stalks.

The Unicorn was seen to land in the garden,
and their concentration was lost
as they raced home to whine,
till the Unicorn agreed to visit to Venus.

The Flower Faeries were sewing
"last word" dresses for the their own coming New Year.
Their wardrobes were expanding
in nothing flat, très vite!

The Witch had booked passage on the Unicorn to,
indulge in First Class travel to Triplanetary,
(Edward Elmer "Doc Smith").

They had taken off, pronto,
at 2am and would return
when they so decided.

The Goblin and the Gremlin
were determined to do so in like manner.

They waited until the Witch
had rushed to retrieve her cloak,
her broom, a wand and her cat,
then leapt upon the Unicorn's back
a volé loin et loin . . . .

Peter & Debbie

And so,
out in the magic studio garden . . . .

The moon was encircled
by scarce-moving clouds, luminous,
mysterious, a vision of
never ending myth and legend.

The Glitter bugs twinkled,
replacing the stars, and
the pond was aglow
with light from the house.

The Witch of the night,
rarely present in these parts,
was visiting her distant cousin,
the (nearest) Witch in our wood.
They had built a fire of extravagant size,
lit it and invited the night creatures to keep warm....

From deep in the wood
came the sound a chase, and
through the trees came an Amarok
in pursuit of a slow-moving wild boar.

The creatures of the wood turned
to watch the strangely ancient,
almost pantomime scene.
The boar skipped beneath
a sharp-thorned bush.
The Amarok blindly continued
his way into the garden.

The Goblin and Gremlin
were washing their faces, when,
mirrored in the pond water,
the figure of ??

They stood up right quick,
seized their walking stick weapons,
and hit out at the Amarok
with furious contempt.

The Amarok took fright.
Wow wee,
chickadee.

The garden emptied,
the wood emptied
and true darkness set in.

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the magic studio garden . . . .

Fizz, fizz, slurp, splutter,
the Elves knocked back tumblers
of Faerie Land ale and beer.
One more pitcher of either and the
fire cracker would go Bang!!

The Elves, Imps and Pixies
had been testing Christmas crackers,
then taken a detour when the Wizard arrived,
driving a cartload of Real ales and beers
on a wagon drawn by four,
immaculate Gypsy horses . . . .

The Flower Faeries had taken
their courage in both hands, and,
were swimming in the chill waters
of the pond in the wood.

The Witch who resided close by,
stood waiting to pat them dry
and offer them a hot Faerie chocolate drink
- with sprinkles . . . .

The Goblin and the Gremlin were fencing,
the Unicorn prancing and, the Owl slept . . . .
and slept . . . . and slept.

The birds of Rhiannon were serenading the Ghosts,
while the ghostly Werewolves and Wolverines
were silent, merely baring their teeth and scowling . . . .

In the house, cards hung dappertutto.
The Cook had placed plenty round the kitchen,
scullery, and pantry.
My wrists, arms and fingers were sore
after the effort of writing my own!!

Ah well. T'is one day in the year?!

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the magic studio garden . . . .

The Ghosts and spectres
sped across the silent garden,
empty now till the night creatures arrived.

The dark was undiluted
by either stars - or moon
and the lights of the house
were long-since switched off.

The night creatures,
arrived, exchanged,
not a whisp of sound,
no conversation,
no repartee,
no hello!
How di do?

The Owl was elsewhere,
as per usual and
the Flower Faeries were abed
in their underground den.
The Witch had requested
a night ride of the Unicorn,
who obliged by taking her
on a voyage of outer space . . . .
In the house,
the Elves were playing Elfin card games,
with betting included.

I was sleeping like a log,
when the bedroom window crashed open
and the Gremlin and Goblin jumped in . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the magic studio garden . . . .

The Lion, the Witch
and her cat and broomstick,
were supposedly headed t'wards
the Fantasy Land harbour.

A barque awaited them,
full crew, (no cat),
the sole disaster areas being -
the galley and the heads.
Malodorous. Noisome . . . . ?!

The Mariners, shopkeepers,
Merchant seamen - mate
The layabouts,
the poor and the children
dressed in rags,
today were forgetting and,
celebrating the safe home-coming
of a galleon, feared
lost at sea . . . .

The Witch, the cat and the Lion
rowed a row boat
around the harbour precincts.
The waters were disgusting.

The Witch's broomstick
began to twitch,
her cat to fret and yowl.
Homeward time so,
disgruntled, unrewarded, the
travellers flew garden wards, to
their happy home.

Per ardua ad astra?!

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the magic studio garden . . . .

The ghostly Werewolves
and Wolverines
were doing battle.
Fearsome, t'was.
Even the Witch
could do aught to
contain the horde.

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the magic studio garden . . . .

The house was deadly quiet.
The sound of silence was profound.
In the wainscots, skittle skattle,
the mice scuttled round the house . . . .

The Spider and the Mouse
were about on the first floor,
engaged in setting schedules and,
the Spider's new spun web awaited it's next,
unintended, victim.

In the kitchen, mayhem reined.
Pots and pans upon the floor,
and an empty fridge/freezer.

The pantry and the scullery
were scarcely better off.
The cleaning lady this day,
would find the cleaning gruelling
and would storm and
rant all day . . . .

The Elves were building
pond mud castles and
splashing water at each other.
The Ogre stuck his head out . . . .
too cold!
No visit to the garden.
A day spent snug inside.

The Flower Faeries, bright,
bewitching,flitter fluttered
'twixt the fruit trees,
the bushes and winter flowers.

The Goblin and the Gremlin
were on their way to the market town,
where, for the afternoon and evening
they'd be playing the role of Father Christmas.

The house was quiet, quiet. Then -
with a suddenness abrupt,
a scream emanated from the kitchen,
followed by slam, bang, crash . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the magic studio garden . . . .

The spider scuttled from his home,
within the wainscot of an unused bedroom
His legs would take him down the staircase,
to the kitchen in the basement.
From thence, he'd stroll about the pantry,
the scullery and wood shed.

The mouse which lived quite close to him,
preferred to keep to the upper floors.
The cats were less inclined to visit
and the moths and insects,
flies and beetles had their own
specific agendas.

On the "bedroom floor" downstairs,
the Imps and the Elves - the Pixies, too,
were firing peas through their pea shooters
at the corridor walls.

The Cook was snug behind her kitchen door,
and sat sipping her cup of tea with satisfied contentment.

The postman rang the bell three times
and banged upon the door.
T'was merely a signature needed,
though one would have thought
an alarm was being sounded?!?

Later in the day the Gremlin and Goblin
ensconced themselves comfortably
in front of the Library fire.
The Elves quickly joined them.
Bedlam ensued.

The Witch and the Wizard quaffed
a fruited breakfast drink,
having stuffed their ears with cotton wool buds.
The Witch stirred a potion to end all potions.
One that contained such ingredients for spells
to stir up this garden Fantasy land.

The Unicorn disappeared
when once he'd been groomed,
and the Dragon tramped stormily
away to the fields . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the magic studio garden . . . .

The Flower Faeries were sheltering
in an erstwhile rabbit hole,
darning socks, mending tears and
sewing "table clothes" and "napkins."

(Faerie table clothes were usually
spread on a ground sheet,
the napkins were of gossamer cotton).

The Fresh water Mermaid had, today,
wrought miracles out of goose egg and,
assisted by the Witch of the wood,
created a "design of the year" pond home . . . .

The Elves were, momentarily,
in the Witch of the wood's black books and,
had been warned not to trespass,
lest she cast a spell and shown the exit, do re mi . . . .

The Gremlin and Goblin,
the Pixies and Imps,
carried them news and gossip,
and Faerie Land rumours.
The Unicorn remained a
"world-without-end" visitor.
The Dragon invited friends
of every, non-violent, Mythical status
or beastie characters
from the local Legends of yore.

The Wizard arrived by way of
an invisible cable car, holding his
forgetful friend
by the scruff of the neck?!
T'was glaringly obvious that,
his friend had been getting up to no good . . . .

The Owl was just back from a spree
round the countryside and would, in time,
fall asleep to the euphonious,
rhythmical songs of the birds of Rhiannon . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the magic studio garden
The Turtle had returned to the garden,
another prodigal son come home . . . .

He had spent a bewilderingly,
eye-popping time in the Pacific Ocean?!

The Tortoise, the Witch,
the Water Rat and Wizard,
met him in the woods,
trundling along the muddy path
in a tank upon a cart,
drawn by Izzy Bitsy versions of
Gog and Magog.

The Elves raced from their hidey holes
to greet him, form an escort
and, the Owl whooped, whooped
and sailed into the frame
as the "leader of the pack."

The procession,
reaching its destination,
halted and dispersed,
leaving the Witch,
the Wizard and Flower Faeries
to welcome and help him
to settle down and acclimatise . . . .

In the deep of the night,
the Unicorn appeared,
shining in splendour -
a star sign, bejewelled.

He, too, greeted the Tortoise,
and, snap, crackle, pop,
a flash of lightening, a roll of thunder.

The downpour was walloping mondo . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the magic studio garden
others have made choices, it seems . . . .

"Go jump in the lake,"
sneered Gorgonzola, Spectre.
"I've had my swim,"
returned a bad-tempered Weasel.
"I was up before you were . . . . ”

The Witch was in scratchy mood today,
inclined to snap.
Thus, those creatures astir,
circumnavigated or steered clear
of, her outdoor workroom,
the chosen space within the garden,
where, in her cauldron,
she prepared and mixed
her magic potions.

To the Elves, Imps and Pixies,
a low-key disagreement
was of no concern at all.
There passed an hour
of nothing doing,
no tricks to play
or treats to steal.

The hour passed,
they confabbed
and they plotted.
The weasel and the spectre parted,
the other spectres drifted in.

The ghostly Werewolves,
Wolverines fought
tooth and nail with each other.

When the chimes for midday
sounded the Unicorn alighted.
Later than expected,
he looked ruffled and disheveled.

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
it's just as chilly
out back in the magic studio garden . . . .

The Mole, his friend, the snail,
a caterpillar and worm
were wending their weary way
to a life beyond the garden.

The Elves were proving
much too much to tolerate,
much too much to endure . . . . .

The Imps and Pixies,
truth to tell,
were exasperating,
bothersome, but,
easier by far to live with.

The Gremlin and the Goblin
were not great socialites.
They to-ed and fro-ed
and wandered from here
to there, to out yonder.

Scarce were the conversations
that they had with the
other garden residents.

The Witch was in her counting house,
oozing satisfaction.
This day had been a first,
in terms of successful magic spells
and potions?!

The Ogre slept the sleep
of the over-rested individual.
He snored, gurgled, nostrils quivered.
Occasionally, he bellowed,
occasionally he roared.

When the Wizard landed,
a wild boar was present.
Unfriendly and aggressive,
it was rebuked by way of
the Unicorn's hooves . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
it's just as crisp
out back in the magic studio garden . . . .

Meanwhile,
back in the magic studio garden . . . .

Meanwhile,
there are other,
non-creative,
tricks going on . . . .

The clear blue skies
and winter sunlight,
predisposed the Elves,
Pixies and Imps to a day
of hoodwink and tricks.

The Dragon was asleep
on the grass, out for the count.

The Witch was preparing
sumptuous dishes for his breakfast.

The odour of cooking
brought the Fantasy critters,
post haste, from their lairs
and the Flower Faeries
conjured presents from out of thin air.
These were for giving during
the Fantasy Christmas break.

When the Elves and their kinfolk
had eaten their meal,
they poured pond water
into the ears of the Dragon
and dragooned the Unicorn
into transporting a group of them
to the Land of Erewhon . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the UK . . . .

Coursing through the icy water
of a river running high,
the Water Rat, the Toad and Mole
steered their canoe with skillful ease.

Skimming like greased lightening
through the swiftly running river,
they hit the rapids,
the canoe slipped into rocking mode,
flipped over and that was them
thrown into the ice cold depths.
T'was just as well they could all swim?!

The Mole was trying his utmost
to keep his head above the water.
He soon got into difficulties
and was supported by his friends.

Once more on terra ferma,
the group crawled shiveringly home,
where the Witch and Flower Faeries
dried them off and heated
Faerie-Land mulled wine.

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back in the UK . . . .

The Whippoorwill's call
pierced the dark of the morning,
setting off a chorus of raucous crow caws.

The Owl had returned
to his home in the Oak,
freshened his feathers
and settled to sleep.

The unmelodious cacophony
shattered the stillness
of the lingering night /
breaking dawn.

The Owl slipped from his perch
to the branch below.
The Witch splashed herself
with the potion in
her huger-than-usual cauldron.

The Elves clapped their hands
and stamped their feet,
slapped their thighs and then
beat a retreat to the woods.

The Pixies and Imps,
the Frog and the Toad,
the Water Rat, the Gnome and
the Goblin and Flower Faeries,
woke with a start and
tumbled distractedly from their beds.

The Unicorn took wing
and soared up through the pink clouds.
The Wizard cried, "Streuth!"
and covered his ears.

When the sound grew too great,
the Fantasy creatures,
collapsed in a heap,
or disappeared with alacrity?!

The Ogre ambled forth,
heard the racket and roared.

Silence . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Probably pondering,
just what his role might be
in the magic studio garden,
because as typical,
chaos reigns . . . . . . .

"Do you know
the meaning of the word,
No?"
T'is a negative,
therefore, you
are forbidden to blow clouds
of cheroot smoke around about
the garden.

The Elves and Imps, the Pixies too,
would scarce apply the rule, so,
punishmental ef-fects had mustly to be had . . . .

The Gardener tossed a wheelbarrow
full of smelly fertilizer at them,
the Under gardeners sprayed them liberally
with two bottles of herbicide.

The Unicorn and Dragon breathed fire,
the Ogre threw hot water and,
the Elves and Imps and Pixies,
bedraggled, zigzagged homeward . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Managed to work for awhile,
in relative peace and tranquility
because, out in our magic studio garden . . . .

All of a sudden the temperature rose
and presently the garden was bereft
of confrontational beings. Phew!!

The Ogre was on his groundsheet,
drinking Witch-brewed coffee made of herbs.

The Flower Faeries were grooming the Unicorn
beneath the leafless, naked, Oak and
the Elves, the Imps and Pixies
were darting round the house,
hurling blandishments at the Cook
and Housekeeper and,
turning the sitting room upside down . . . .

Unable to work properly in my attic office/studio,
I took myself downstairs and out to the garage.

Speeding through the countryside,
the winter sun just, gleaming,
I felt that touch of freedom which denotes that,
contrary-minded small(ish) folk
were nowhere within sight.

A kittihawk flew overhead and,
circling to the west, Red kestrel hovering high,
swooped and dived and glided
with the wind currents
in search of prey.

My sister would, quite shortly,
be arriving for "rural" respite.
The Gremlin and the Goblin would,
without doubt,
demand an outing at full speed
in her Aston Martin DB 11 . . . .

Ho hum . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Unlike yesterday,
Out in our magic studio garden
when there were . . . .

Grey skies and orange,
pink and yellow skies.
New moon and middling moon and
full moon, with his North Star
companion.

The birds of Rhiannon sang "Free Birds"
(Lyn The Owl hooted,
screeched and flapped his wings,
in time with the music -
and on the beat?!

A snowman shuffled forth
from a deep freezer underground.
The Gremlin and Goblin
boarded the fantasy bus
in pursuance of Christmas gifts
and festive decorations.

The Elves were walking along the footpath,
country road and over puddles,
through an erstwhile forest/wood
to the market town beyond.

They, too, wanted gifts, and,
this and this and that.
Free and without tax . . . .
They had a plan and had the means
to rip off the merchant stall holders.
"No problema, monsieur.
These items are your's to stock
and ours to filch."

They did so....
They were done so -
by the Shades.

Peter & Debbie

28th

"RED MONDAY"

New Limited Edition Print release.

Hunters of The Red Moon

Not yet available on website.

Go HERE to pre-order >

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/hello.htm

Axel and Ermintrude were two of a kind.

He was a Basilisk and she, a Bogle.

Together they wrought turmoil, commotion,

pandemonium, and so forth....

The resident garden creatures descended en masse

upon the Witch to request that

she do something asap?!

However,

The Witch was unfamiliar

with either Basilisks or Bogles and,

had no spells with which to counter

the sheer power of their malevolence.

The Wizard was, likewise, unable to offer

even a seed of an idea as to how, what and whereby.

The Basilisk and Bogle held sway until

the Dragon landed with a swirl of

his tail, gnashing his teeth and

breathing fire and brimstone.

The Basilisk and Bogle took up battle positions,

attacked and retreated,

attacked and . . . .

disintegrated?!

The Dragon had hit the enemy

fair and square and . . . . .

The End

Peter & Debbie

Perhaps . . . . .
this skill of visualising such games
enables the Artist to see actual real Faeries?

And . . . . . as a result . . . .

An Aigamuxa in the garden?
Yes, alas, allack....

The fearsome creature skulked and slunk,
while the Witch lay low and
the garden creatures stayed away.

The garden was still empty
when the Wizard stepped off his magic blanket.
He spent some time reconnoitering
her usual haunts, without success.

Entering the wood,
he perceived a frightening being:
a mythical beast of ugly mien.
Eyes on its feet, man eater, mean.
You can outwit him, as firstly he must
lie on his back and lift both feet in the air,
in order that he could see anything?!

Peter & Debbie

And . . . . for those who keep up with it . . . . . .

Our South American blog >

http://www.peterandrewjones.net/stockist_america-do-Sul.htm

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
Out in our magic studio garden . . . .

Wizzie Wazie Wombat arrived by magic carpet,
donated by the Wizard's friend,
who'd left it the wood shed.

The garden was alive with Elves,
their next of kin and cousins.
The Imps, the Pixie, Goblin,
Gnome and Weasel were perched,
half way up the Oak.

The never-resting Flower Faeries,
their by the Unicorn done,
were at the proverbial "loose end"
whilst the snoozy snoozebox day progressed.

Wmomph, thud, footsteps approached,
those of the Ogre, fancifully dressed
in men's Derby Tweed breeches Plus Fours
and co-respondent black and white shoes . . . .

The Witch's eyes grew wide,
her eyebrows lifted and,
she sneezed, sniffed,
and dropped her gaze to the cauldron.

The Unicorn snorted,
chuckled horse-fashion, and
the Wizard guffawed so loudly
that his hat fell off his head?!

The Ogre was completely and totally
wrapped up in his world that,
nothing whatever would have impinged
upon his consciousness . . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,

Out in our magic studio garden . . . .

The Caladrius,
mythical snow white bird,
had materialised
from the depths of . . . .
who knows where?

Straightaway,
the Owl disappeared
into "his" hole in the Oak.
The Flower Faeries flew far afield,
out of possible harm's way.

The Witch and the Wizard
were confabbing close to
her steaming cauldron
from which floated the daily spells.

The Gremlin and Goblin
were inside the house,
together with the Elves,
Imps and Pixies, the cats and dogs.

The Elves had already
ruffled the Ogre,
and were now intent
upon upsetting the Cook.

The kitchen was topsy turvy,
the dining room knocked about.
The Cook would hit the ceiling
the minute she entered
either scullery or pantry.

Gee!!

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
he remains absent
from the garden, because . . . . . . .

The drizzling rain,
grey skies and wind,
which yesterday had postponed
the arrival on the lawn
of our Fantasy creatures
though it had abated somewhat,
still left th Dragon wary of appearing.

The birds of Rhiannon
arranged themselves artfully,
balancing comfortably high
up on a branch of the Oak tree.

The rain clouds seemed
to hang low in the sky,
and the drizzle permeated
through the clothes
of anyone out of doors . . . .

The Goblin and the Gremlin
stomped around and about, then,
disappeared hastily into the wood.

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
he is invisible, because . . . . . . .

The drizzling rain, grey skies and wind,
postponed the arrival of the Fantasy creatures.

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
Outside the studio . . . . . . .

A retinue of Faeries,
fire flies and dancing beans,
tripped its way
through wood and garden,
fields of crops, fallow fields.

The Witch - reconnaissance -
on her broom, took the lead.
The Wizard sailed forward
on a magic carpet.
The Ogre flapped his arms,
endeavouring to fly.

The Elves were parachuting
from the roof of the house.
A regular occurence
when the spirit took them.

The Flower Faeries were ready
to sleep the day away,
having spent the night
at the Faerie theatre watching
a Punch and Judy pantomime.

The Unicorn was lively,
champing a virtual bit.
His was a desire for a
long haul flight round the globe.

The final outcome?
The Unicorn sped,
with infinite panache,
round the globe . . . .
twice?!

The Witch and her cat
returned to Earth,
changed her cloak
for a warmer one
and lit an enormous fire.

She transmitted
a telepathic message
to her friend, the Wizard,
and together they sipped
Faerie-made wine and
cast spells of the night.

When night fell,
the beat of Dragon wings
could be heard in the distance,
and Lo and behold,
a crimson dragon landed!

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
Outside, in the magic studio garden . . . .

The clouds sprang a leak
and the rain belted down, then
hail and shards of ice, seemingly,
snow as the dessert.

The Witch pitched a magical tent
and the Elves scuttled in,
followed by the Goblin,
the Gremlin, the Weasel,
the Stoat and the Water Rat.

The Flower Faeries were allocated
a Royal coach, drawn by six miniature horses
and a Mokele mbembe,
the Queen of the Faeries
being generous and not having to pay
a State Visit . . . .

In the attic the Mouse, the cat and the spider
were scraping the boards to clean enough space,
so as they could compete to see which would win
the mostest of twelve Poker games.

Tea time arrived, every last one
was to be found in the sitting room,
waited upon by the Cook,
house maid and House keeper,
who offered edible delicacies,
tea, coffee, fresh fruit juices or water.

The ambience was cordial, restful and stormless . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,

A dear friend and collector
of Fantasy artworks had,
(jealousy, jealousy),
returned from a short,
but uplifting, visit to Rome.

I'm preparing a papyrus scroll
and a quill pen and ink to,
write reams of logical reasons why,
next time, we go together . . . .

Signed, sealed, complete,
the garden Dragon was summoned
to take the parchment letter to Rome.

The Witch, "hearing voices,"
approached so as to proffer her services,
and those of the Unicorn.

Wrong time of year
to sail over Rome on a broom -
not yet Befana?!)

The Elves, Imps and Pixies,
the Goblin and the Gnome
proffered a carrier pigeon.
Much too small-beaked for the task.

The Wizard, a voice ignored,
threw a strop and, spitefully,

Magicked the scroll to the Queen of the wood?!

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
Outside the book binding room . . . . . . .

The wind cried Mary,
the trees creaked and moaned.
Low clouds sank lower.
The moisture-laden skies,
threatened to implode . . . .

The house shook, the windows rattled,
the front door jiggered on its hinges.

The Dragon lay doggo on the lawn.
The Witch hid out in her underground den.
The Elves, the Imps and the Pixie Folk
rehearsed, with microphone,
their end of year rock/pop concerto.

The Wizard, and forgetful friend,
made hay while the rain swept through,
sailing the nearby river in a canoe -
for a hoot - indubitable vaudeville?!

The gusts became tornados,
the garden creatures battened down.
In the house, the creepy crawlies
scurried rapidly into their temporary homes . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
others have work to do also . . . . . . .

The Candle Stick Maker, the Farrier,
and the Sharpener of Cutlery,
were due to visit today.

The Cook was displeased,
her schedule in shreds.
The dogs bit the Postman, so . . . .

Chi sa cosa faranno?

The Elves, Imps and Pixies
would stand and stare,
comment and point AT
every move the "experts" made,
moving positions from one to the next . . . .

The Unicorn,
brushed and groomed to a soft,
platinum sheen,
mane and tail washed,
combed and dyed Sapphire blue,
quenched his thirst and swallowed,
a Witch Chef's masterpiece,
a magical breakfast.

The Flower Faeries washed their hair,
cleansed their faces, after which
they lit Faerie heaters,
gathered together the manicure set and,
perched lightly upon the tubbed Poinsettia,
titivated their minute finger nails.

The Ogre, dental appointment booked,
needs must sleep, and the Witch
had magicked a cosy bedroom,
hidden from the view of "ordinary" folk
by Witchcraft and the Witch's guile?!

When the ghostly Wolves and Wolverines
uncorked their voices,
their howls awoke the morn and,
every man, bird and living creature
for mile upon mile around . . . .

Peter & Debbie

For the first time for days
the Elves were abroad,
roaming the countryside,
frightening the cows.
The sheep had only disdain
and disinterest
written into their faces.

There had been a parting of ways
'twixt the Elves, Imps and Pixies.
A full scale argument had caused this split.
Who started it was anyone's guess, and,
who would patch up the tear
was a conundrum, as well . . . .

The Cook was relieved,
the Housekeeper breathed deep,
the Gardener and his under gardeners,
sped through their tasks.

The Witch, the Wizard,
the Goblin and Gremlin,
had ridden to market
on a wooden cart
drawn by a heavy horse.
More astonishingly,
the ghosts had come along, too?!

The Owl slept serene, the rain held off.
Grey clouds there were - nevertheless,
a mellow warmth pervaded
the overcasting gloom.

The Faeries of the wood
played peek a boo, hide and seek,
whilst the Witch of the acreage
The Mole and the Toad
and the Water Rat Trio
were in the field out yonder,
watching ants build an anthill
by the light of day 2's receding super moon . . . .

Peter & Debbie

"All change, all change!" a voice instructed, as
the virtual train drew into our,
usually transparent garden station.

The Flower Faeries fluttered
through the open windows, and
their fellow garden residents jumped,
crawled or slithered aboard.
They were on their way to
"oh, the places we shall go,"
in celebration of the rare event
of the supercalifragilistic magical moon . . . .

The Witch had been invited to attend
a Witch's carnival of light.
The Wizard, too, would go along,
taking with him his forgetful friend.

The Elves, the Pixies, Imps and Goblin
would join their "tribe" across the hills and,
the Gremlin would be left to celebrate
with the ghosts and ghostly Wolverines?!

The ghostly Werewolves were far away,
howling balefully in the incandescent moonlight.
The only character to miss the sight
was the ever-tired Ogre?!

Photographs spewed one by one,
from the camera that I'd borrowed.
These, and the article I was to write would,
as soon as asap, land upon my publisher's desk . . . .

Peter & Debbie

The Flower Faeries were beginning
to feel the cold and, got together
to discuss where inside they'd be warm,
and hidden, so that they could laugh
and dance the horn pipe without
being found out.

The Unicorn would join them, they knew,
and the Witch often spent time in the kitchen.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies
could be locked in the green house,
with the Ogre acting the role of prison guard . . . .

The Moon was full,
clouds told of further rain, and,
the Gremlin, Goblin and Dragon?
They would blunder about
in the Moon light . . . .

Peter & Debbie

But at least today,
there may be calm in the garden,
maybe . . . . .

One morning, eons ago,
a Phoenix triumphant came this way.
A tempest had driven it,
disempowered, to this place.

The Owl was hunting for supper
and dinner and breakfast prey.
Perhaps an hors d'oeuvre,
or a snack - two? -
thrown in for good measure.

The Goblin and the Gremlin
were sitting on a ground sheet
laid on the grass,
on loan to the Ogre from the Witch
and left behind by him :(

Each was concentrated
upon constructing a hat.
Rather wear put together head gear
than suffer frozen ears?!

The Phoenix and the Unicorn -
(arrived at dawn) -
were sidestepping each other,
both envious of the other . . . .

With a whoop and a hoot,
the Owl flew overhead,
followed by the birds of Rhiannon,
the Wizard and forgetful friend.

Behind the walls of the kitchen garden,
the Witch wrinkled her nose.
The perfume cascading from the cauldron
resembled a mini-waterfall.
(Other than the wiffyness
of the potion, itself....)

The Ogre had made up a bed in the wood,
choosing an halcyon glade wherefrom
he bestirred himself not at all.

The Elves, Imps and Pixies
were parachuting from the roof of the house
or paragliding inexpertly,
klutzy from the window sills . . . .
Accidents happen?

Peter & Debbie

Wild cats,
High priestesses,
ritual sacrifice,
the stuff of Simulacra,
but then again,
there's "Tales from the the Wood. . . . . . ."

The Ogre came forth from the wood with a jerk,
dragging something(?)
what was it . . . . a cockatrice.

A mythical beast of murderous mien . . . .
that he had unearthed from fields under the hills.

The Flower Faeries' eyes opened wide with awe.
The Witch took him aside
and beseeched of him -
"Take it otherwhere!
T'is too ghoulish for we residents of this Fantasy garden."

The Ogre looked taken off balance.
He scratched his head,
rubbed his bestubbled cheeks and chin.
Sweeping the cockatrice to face the wood,
he thundered 'cross the lawn and,
crashed through the wood . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
back at the studio,
out in the wood
at the back of the studio . . . . .

The fresh water Mermaid
had returned to the wood.
This misty, moisty morning
she was singing to,
the creatures of the wood.

The Queen of the Wood
and the Queen of Faerie Land
were seated upon cushions
placed atop a fallen tree branch.

I was walking in the wood,
a first for many months and,
hid behind a chestnut tree
could eavesdrop with impunity.

They talked of castle matters,
of policies and politics.
And wait . . . .
The arrival of two Tiddy mun
to "tidy up" their populations.

Returning to the garden,
I found the Witch behind the greenhouse.
I reported what I'd overheard
and asked whether there was
anything we could do.

The Witch scratched her head
and thought awhile.
"Leave it be with me," she said.
"I'll tell the Wizard,
who will know what canst be done
and how . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Meanwhile,
out in our magic studio garden . . . . .

"Eight x eight equals sixty-four,
and global warming equals cold,
wet springs and summers,
autumnal flower confusion
and a frigid winter."

Thus spake the Weasel, the Toad and the Water Rat.

The Orc was blessed with plenty of ballast.

The Ogre was spoiled by a sympathetic Witch
and the soft-hearted Flower Faeries.

Given warm clothes,
hot drinks and munchable,
sumptuous piping hot meals.

The Weasel, the Toad and the Water Rat,
were next on the list
of Fantasy garden creatures to meet.
They were very courteous, polite
and down-beat.
Talked of the ways of the world,
of magic and Fantasy Land.

"We know that 'tis right to be friendly
with one and all.
However,
how can one get along with most anyone,
most especially one's fellow garden residents?"

I listened carefully,
mulled upon that which I'd heard
and decided to wait to converse until the Unicorn
joined us, the Owl and the birds of Rhiannon, too . . . .

Peter & Debbie

Once packed,
we can go for a stroll,
joining others
in our magic studio garden . . . . .

A Pied Piper-character strolled through the garden,
playing "Pennies from Heaven"
and songs from the musical, "Carousel."

Reveille!

The Fantasy garden creatures opened their eyes,
extracted their ear-plugs and roused themselves,
preparing for the day.

The Orc had, during the night,
met a Bavarian Wolpertinger,
struggling to complete his chosen goal,
a "Grand Tour of Europe."

They walked some way together,
the Orc talking non-stop.
"Good morrow," he repeated,
"How are ye, how are ye?"

The Bavarian Wolpertinger caved in and shut up . . . .
A fair distance later the Orc declared that he must,
find a ditch to lie down in and catch forty winks.

This project proved easy
and a brief acquaintanceship expired.
The Wolpertinger slithered onwards,
upwards and down,
the Orc trundled homewards,
ever bent upon repeating,
"Some form of transport will pass,
sine qua non.

Peter & Debbie

Need to keep focussed to pack & ship
and ignore the usual chaos
outside, in the magic studio garden . . . .

Yahoo! shouted the Wart Hog,
waving a white handkerchief of surrender?!
The Toad and the Frog beat their drums
and retreated post haste.

Kerplunk, went the heart of the Ogre and,
"Wretch!" cackled the Witch for,
into the Fantasy garden had dropped a wicked Warlock,
cudgel in his belt, hands tightly fisted.

He strode t'ward the Elves,
hurling jeers and insults at them.
To the Imps he muttered threats
and the Pixies he derided,
mocking all and mocking sundry,
his language grinding to the soul.

The population in toto ground their teeth
and "bared" their fangs.
Moving to the rhythm of his voice,
the Unicorn's sharp teeth and polished hooves
came the rescue and, striking out,
(or biting sharp),
saved the day and got rid of,
a veritable pain . . . .

Peter & Debbie

But, as ever,
the strange goings-on in the garden
always make it difficult
to know exactly what's happening
until it burst upon us in broad daylight . . . . .

The Elf Owl had lost its way one dark,
stormy night and found itself blown
from its natural habitat across seas and oceans.

It's journey ended here, in this magical garden.

The garden Fantasy creatures were stunned.
Even the Elves were rendered silent.
Never in their lives had they met such a bird.

The Elf Owl settled, bone weary, on the lawn,
scarcely able to shake out his salt-watered feathers.
The Witch saw him sitting there and approached with caution.

The cauldron frothed and bubbled.
Spells whisked upon their way.
In the Oak the Owl was resting,
clutching still his night's "goodies."

A signal from the Witch and the Owl responded,
dropping bits and pieces of his breakfast to the ground.

The Elf Owl snacked until replete, then,
his feathers shaken, refreshed, he
slept on a branch of the Oak,
brushed by falling leaves
and lulled by the cool Autumnal breeze . . . .

Peter & Debbie

That approach is new for me,
probably influenced by
the general spontaneity
of our magic garden inhabitants
and, as ever, the unfolding garden day
is a unpredictable as ever . . . . . !

A Pied Piper-character strolled through the garden,
playing "Pennies from Heaven"
and songs from the musical, "Carousel."

Reveille!

The Fantasy garden creatures opened their eyes,
extracted their ear-plugs and roused themselves,
preparing for the day.

The Orc had, during the night,
met a Bavarian Wolpertinger,
struggling to complete his chosen goal,
a "Grand Tour of Europe."

They walked some way together,
the Orc talking non-stop.
"Good morrow," he repeated,
"How are ye, how are ye?"

The Bavarian Wolpertinger caved in and shut up . . . .
A fair distance later the Orc declared that he must,
find a ditch to lie down in and catch forty winks.

This project proved easy
and a brief acquaintanceship expired.
The Wolpertinger slithered onwards,
upwards and down,
the Orc trundled homewards,
ever bent upon repeating,
"Some form of transport will pass,
sine qua non.

Peter & Debbie

Elves, Pixies and Imps
needed a break
from printing calendars,
and, we need to check the fantasy factory
to ensure due diligence,
because . . . . .

Snotlings, Orcs and Gremlins.
What have they in common?
Response?

Snotlings are known as the preferred slaves
of both Orcs and Gremlins.

Singly submissive.
In groups? Otherwise!

Our resident Gremlin
and the newcomer, Orc,
had lately acquired two.
One for each.
None for the Goblin . . . .

The Elves, Pixies and Imps made a stink,
the Flower Faeries reproached them.
The Witch bit her lip
and slammed her cauldron maleficently.

T'was mild for this time of year
and the fresh water Mermaid
had transferred to the garden pond.
She sang, Siren-like,
from the rock in the pond,
enticing those who approached to
immerse themselves in cold water.
Shiver, quiver, shudder, ugh!!

Peter & Debbie

Elves, Pixies and Imps
needed a break
from printing calendars,
so . . . . .

Elves, Pixies and Imps were off to the races,

aboard the special bus that appeared in the garden by magic

when required . . . .

They each carried ruck sacks filled with Faerie-cooked food,

binoculars, extra clothing, their heads posolutely crammed

with hoodwinks and tricks.

The Flower Faeries, clothed in layer upon stylish layer,

chitter chattered, giggled and, having groomed the Unicorn,

let their hair down . . . .

The Witch, the Ogre, Elf Owl upon his shoulder,

built a fire, filled the cauldron and,

made tick for a bracing early-morning walk . . . .

Peter & Debbie

The Flower Faeries had flown from the garden to the village,

entertained the children and flown back to the fold.

The Witch was supposed to demonstrate her magical skills,

as the evening drew the curtains upon the late Autumnal day.

The sky was a pure azure blue, criss-crossed by Nimbus clouds,

alight with the gold of the end of day timbre.

The Owl would, in the pitch black,

a' hunting go.

The Elves would be translating tricks in theory to tricks in action.

The Ghosts took the road to "Blowing hot, blowing cold."

The Wizard arrived like a bull in a china shop and the Unicorn, provoked,

trod upon his cloak, turned his back and kicked his legs from under him . . . .

His dignity was tatterdemalion . . . .

Peter & Debbie

1st

THE GODDESS OF CREATION

Working title (kind of).

We might need to have a walk 'round the magic garden.

Just to get the creative juices flowing.

See how we can develop the concept.

So, off we went . . . . .

Walking slowly, ceremoniously down pathways,

crisscrossing the lawn, we arrived at a wooden shed

that I had no notion existed . . . .

A new-build evidently,

from the appearance of the structure.

My companion knocked on the door

using a Fantasy morse code,

a chain was withdrawn

and the door creaked open.

Framed against the light

streaming in from the windows,

stood an ancient Sage,

clothed in sack cloth robe

and an intricately embroidered cloak . . . .

We were denied the offer of an invitation to enter,

instead the Sage came out to be introduced,

then turned about, giving the order to

"Follow the pathway to Shangri la . . . ."

Peter & Debbie

October 2016 Blog

31st

THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO

Sunlight!

Michaelmas pastures.

Sheep (just discernible in the centre of the view).

And, of course, Faeries from over the hills . . . .

The Elves, Imps and Pixies

were fighting over Halloween costumes,

who would wear what and would the evening

begin in dispute and end in fisticuffs?

The Witch was sewing a "The Lady is a Tramp" dress,

having magicked a wig and a pair of stiletto heeled shoes.

What the result would be, was anybody's guess . . . .

The Ghosts, the ghostly Werewolves and the Wolverines

were wholly intent upon scaring the living day-lights

out of every other garden Fantasy creature.

The garden quietened, the night creatures crept out.

The stars were well hidden, the moon scarcely visible.

The Unicorn had visited,

was now somewhere traveling through space.

I smoked a cigar, went inside to the Library,

chose a book and climbed the stairs

to my attic room office/studio . . . .

Peter & Debbie

30th

MEMORY LANE

2 years back on Facebook

"A World Out of Time" (Larry Niven novel)

I've always enjoyed characteristation.

I also enjoy the "FLOW"of evolving an idea from past to present.

Once upon a time, it was an Alien in a space environment.

Now, maybe, it will be a "Queen of the Wood".

It helps, to have models to work from, close at hand . . . . .

Fleet of foot and poised, to the
tips of its hooves, its
tail and mane folded,
unfolded like blue polka dot flags.

"Light of the Forest" galloped through the wood,
the extraterrestrial exhilaration demonstrably visible.

The Queen of the Wood guided him out of the wood,
'cross pasture and field till near at hand,
the Queen espied a herd of Fantasy equines
chewing peppermint grass and sweet virtual apples
beside a crystalline stream upon their left hand.

Here they rested for a wee while to restore their stamina,
before cantering on to the Land of Smiles . . . .

Peter & Debbie

The crookedy Wizard
was walking on cobbles.
Tip toeing from one cobble to another,
to another, to another.