The sun shone down on windy lane cottage on a beautiful summer day. All the flowers were dancing in the garden as a gentle breeze brushed across the tops of their heads and ruffled their curling leaves. Birds twittered in the tree tops and bees hummed as they flitted here and there, darting in and out amongst the dancing flowers.
Christabelle Woodland loved living in such a snug little place. Here she felt warm and she felt safe and she felt, well . . . happy. I wonder, she thought to herself, what it is that makes me feel this way. Where is it that I can find bliss? What is bliss? Where is joy? What is joy? These questions kept swirling around and around in her little fairy mind and so she set off to find out the answer amidst the to's and fro's of Windy Lane.
"Ahhh" . . . purred the china cat sitting on the table at the top of the stairs. "Bliss is having a comfy chair to curl up on and a nice soft blanket to keep you warm . . . a bowl of warm milk and a fire to watch . . . Joy is having someone to stroke your ears and rub your belly."
Christabelle thought that sounded quite true, and very very nice, but . . . she thought to herself, there has to be more, and so she journied on.
She came across two china bluebirds preening themselves on the sideboard. "What brings you joy?" she asked. "Where do you find your bliss?"
They ruffled their pretty blue feathers as if to say. . . what a silly question and then the chipper little one on the left piped up. "Joy is having a song to sing and someone to sing it to!" And with that, he went back to picking and plucking at his feathers . . .
Ohh, that sounds nice thought Christabelle as she hummed a little tune to herself, but there has to be more, and so . . . she went on . . .
"What gives you joy? Where is your bliss?" She asked the tiny bird that perched inside the painted wooden birdhouse that sat on the library windowsill.
"That's easy!" He chirruped and cheeped. "Bliss is having a warm roof over your head and a place to sit your feet. A place to keep you dry when the rain falls and warm when the wind blows."
"That's nice." she thought to herself, but she was still unsure if it was enough, and so . . . she thanked him very kindly and went journeying on her way.
Before too long she stumbled upon Sylphia Pink, who was prancing and swirling across the top of the dressing table in the big bedroom, her green sylph-like wings fluttering here and there as she drifted past. She almost looked too busy to ask as she fluttered back and forth, but Christabelle gathered up her courage and blurted the words out anyways.
Sylphia stopped and looked her up and down, taking in her dull brown wings and woody cap atop her head, almost with disdain . . . as if she could well and truly believe that this very ordinary fairy could not possibly have any idea whatsoever of what true happiness was or where it lay . . .
"My goodness," She huffed and she puffed, as she began to prance about again. "Joy is having a pretty dress to wear and silky wings to flutter . . . and a mirror to watch yourself in from morning to night." and with that, she turned her head as if to dismiss Christabelle and went back to prancing in front of the mirrored glass.
"There has to be more than that." muttered Christabelle to herself as she went on her way.
Down in the kitchen, next to the stove she ran into Pierre, the very French Chef. "Well," he muttered in his very French way,"Happiness eees a pot to stir avec a very big spoon to stir it with." His big black moustache twitched and bobbed as he smiled down at her.
"I couldn't help hearing." a soft voice drifted in from over on the window sill. Christabelle looked up to see a pretty pink and smiling face looking over at her.
It was the cookie jar lady. She was really a big pig, but nobody liked to tell her so, for she was always smiling and so very cheery, and nobody wanted to make her frown and spoil her happiness.
"Joy," she snorted "Joy is having a belly full of good things to eat and a window to look out into the garden with." and then she chuckled merrily, her fat little belly bobbing up and down under her fluffy white apron.
"That's right!" piped up the cowboy pig at the other end of the windowsill."Not to mention being able to smile even if your face is cracked and your star's gone black. It's knowing you matter anyways, and are loved in spite of all your cracks and crinkles." He winked at the cookie jar lady. He knew she was a pig too, but was too polite to say so.
"Ohh, thanks so much!" Christabelle smiled, and who could help but smile with two such cheery faces shining down on you. She wandered out into the garden.
"Joy, is seeing all the beauty that lies around you, and stopping to smell the roses." whispered Sigfried the wood fairy as a butterfly danced upon his fingertips. "It's all the things around you that make you feel all warm inside your heart. The best things in life are free. They are a gift from above."
"It's reaching beyond yourself, and climbing to a higher, loftier places." piped up Harvey the acorn fairy, as he reached for another branch to perch upon, his fairy wings fluttering lightly in the soft breeze that whispered about their heads.
"It's knowing the love of family and friends." Pippa piped up excitedly from amongst the apple blossoms that lined the branches of the old apple tree that stood in the corner of the garden. She was so excited that the branch bobbed up and down and petals drifted to the ground like a soft winter's snow fall . . .
"Don't forget!" chimed in Cassandra from amongst the chinese lanterns that grew under the old oak tree."It's having a light to guide you on your way and help you to find the right path when you are stumbling and wandering about in the darkness."
"Yes," agreed Harry as he waved his pretty wings in the air. "It's all those things and much much more. Joy is feeling good within yourself and knowing who you are and not wanting to be anyone else. It's enjoying the love of family and friends and wanting to help others. It's being still and hearing the voice that can only be heard when you are still, and quiet . . . and listening. Being happy is being who you are, where you are, when you are, and knowing in your heart that that's all you ever want to be."
All was quiet amidst the flowers of the garden, save the gentle noise from fluttering wings as they all took it in.
"Me thinks you are the wise one." came Clothilde's tiny voice from amongst the oak leaves that lay dry at the edge of the garden. Bliss is here. Bliss is now. Bliss is all around us. It's not something we need to go out and look for. It's already with us. We just have to stop and see that it's here"
And with that, they all pranced inside the house and decided to have some cake . . . because . . . what good is all that bliss, without a little bit of cake. There was still some leftover from the weekend that the big people hadn't managed to eat yet . . . a few crumbs would never be missed.
~THE END~
I thought I would give you a little glimpse of what I have been working on. The liscensing company are quite happy with these. I am excited about them as well. I am hoping that eventually I may be able to earn a living with this. These are just the sketches. Still waiting on colouring them in. I will also be developing borders and accessories to go along with this line. Plus I have a few other lines planned. Lots of work, but a work I enjoy. ☺
A thought to carry with you through today . . .
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Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day
is the rest we take between two deep breaths,
or the turning inwards in prayer for five short minutes.
~Etty Hillesum
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In the kitchen today . . .
Two-Tone Chocolate Malt Cake.
Have a wonderful Wednesday! (How can it be Wednesday already???)
Don't forget . . .
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And I do too!
