ONE OF A KIND… (OOAK) collectible hand-painted stone, knee-deep in plant medicine, firefly magic, and woodland secrets.
IF I WERE… to let slip one secret about myself, it would be my fascination with folklore and fairytales. After all, what’s not to love? Faraway lands. Fantasy realms. Tiny creatures with magnificent powers. Pretty ones. And ugly ones. Cute ones. And scary ones. The strange. The rare. And even the peculiar. There are beasts with human upper-torsos and animal hips, tails and legs. Creatures with jaws like deep-sea dwellers. Some with blue hair. Some with pink. Others adorned with ribbons or wreathed in snakes. Some are so small you’d have to look closely to see them. And others so big you’d turn and run the moment you did, feeling far too insignificant to not be squashed or trampled underfoot.
I GREW UP… reading about these creatures and fell asleep dreaming about visiting the places where they lived. They captivated and enchanted me. I was spellbound by their difference, their otherness, from everything boring, normal and mundane. I wanted more of their kind of sparkle in my life. So I read, I dreamed, I drew… creating a place where we could co-exist. And to this day, we still do. Although now, it’s a more grounded, grown-up version – one I dip in and out of at leisure during quiet moments of contemplation when planning what to create next.
CURRENTLY MY WORK… carries an even deeper desire to escape than even in childhood. The world feels brutal, heavy and harsh. I don’t like it much of the time. I long for distance and seclusion; a place where nothing modern, new or powerful can penetrate. A forest deep in the countryside on an island far away, where mountains rise and rivers snake through ancient wooded valleys. A place to lose oneself, much like the island in LOST – only without all of the scary things. A safe place. A gentle place. A place that is helpful and harmless. And I know I’m not alone in that longing. The news is relentless: a parade of doom and gloom. We crave protection, sanctuary; a shimmering bubble of golden light that we alone have access to. A safe haven – like curling up inside a rose-coloured cave, returning to the rhythm and security of the womb. If my mother had been a place of safety, I might have climbed back inside. But that door closed long ago. And now it stands like an empty husk. No womb regression for me. I envy those who are close to their mothers. It is what I’ve longed for most.
SO I PAINT… I imagine and I dream. And mostly, that works for me.
THIS PIECE IS… my imagining of that forest far away – a moss-carpeted haven scented with the earthy breath of mushrooms and the delicate perfume of flowers, each with medicine stitched into its DNA. There is Daisy Fleabane for releasing fears and restoring lost confidence. Edelweiss for strengthening resilience and anchoring the soul through uncertain periods. Mountain Avens for navigating time; stretching it when the days slip by too fast, tightening it when the hours refuse to move. Pearly Everlasting bridging the gap between the seen and unseen, clearing stagnant energy and deepening our tether to higher wisdom. And, at the heart of it all, Fly Agaric: a guardian of transformation; dissolving old wounds, untangling worn-out patterns, and leading the lost back home to themselves. Together, they form a tapestry – soothing restless minds, easing anxiety, and lifting the heavy veil of sadness we humans are wont to carry; offering solace, balance, and a gentle invitation to heal.
FIREFLIES AND FUNGI
Deep in the forest, where twilight hums,
where whispers weave and moonlight drums,
there blooms a world of softest grace,
a hidden, healing, sacred place.
The Fleabanes glow with golden cheer,
their petals whisper, “Hope is near.”
The Edelweiss, so bold, so wise,
lends courage sung to ancient skies.
Mountain Avens, deep and true,
bends the hours, lets time renew.
While Everlasting, soft and bright,
guides lost souls into the light.
Beneath the emerald canopy,
Fly Agarics in majesty –
their crimson caps with spots so white,
hold visions flickering in the night.
A gift of grounding, truth, and lore,
a tale of strength forevermore.
And in this grove of moss and gold,
a tiny sprite, her tale untold.
With cap of yellow, soft and round,
she walks the forest’s hallowed ground.
Her touch, a balm for restless minds,
a solace that the seeker finds.
She gathers petals, stem, and spore,
to weave a spell of something more.
A salve for wounds both old and deep,
a charm to stir what lies asleep.
She hums, “Dear seeker, hold this near –
let Nature’s heart dissolve your fear.”
Each leaf and bloom, a sacred thread,
to bind the soul where it has bled.
So take this gift, this painted stone,
a fragment of the earth’s own tone.
Let colours weave within your mind,
and gentle healing you shall find.
For in this realm where magic grows,
the heart remembers what it knows.
👉🏻 WHICH OF THESE… flowers or fungi speaks to something inside you?
👉🏻 COULD YOU USE… a moment of quiet magic, a breath of transformation?
👉🏻 IF THERE WERE… a hidden glade, a glowing sanctuary, a place untouched by time: would you step through and stay a while?
👆🏻 I HOPE YOU… find as much pleasure from gazing into this stone as I did in painting it.
👆🏻 INSPIRED BY: the quiet enchantment of the natural world, the mystery of hidden realms, and the longing for something just beyond reach.
DIMENSIONS:
• Pebble: 6.5 x 6cm; 2.6 x 2.4in
• Baby toadstool: 3.5 x 3cm; 1.4 x 1.2in
MATERIALS:
• Posca Paint Pens
• Baker Ross Multi-Purpose Acrylic Craft Varnish
• Super Glue (to attach the baby toadstool)
PLEASE NOTE: this is not a toy, it is delicate, it is meant for ornamental purposes only. If you do happen to drop or accidentally scrape or chip it, you may revarnish it with a thin layer of clear gloss varnish, making sure to allow significant time for it to properly dry. If you get it covered in dirt, grime or drool, you may gently wipe or rinse it. Deeper damage may require touching up the image with paint pens and then revarnishing. Rest assured, most minor incidents can be rescued, but the responsibility lies with you.
🔒 © Rebecca L. Atherton | All Rights Reserved, 2024.