Hello,
Dear friend.
I'm Anna.
And I'd like to welcome you home.
To Whisperwood.
Come in.
And make yourself comfortable.
The kettle is warm.
And your favorite chair.
Is waiting for you.
Right here.
Beside the fire.
Whether this is your first visit to Whisperwood.
Or whether you've wandered these gentle paths many times before.
I'm so very glad you found your way here tonight.
If you're feeling frayed around the edges.
That's fine.
You are in exactly.
The right place.
To stop.
And rest.
The world can manage without you for a while.
But before we go any further.
.
.
Take a slow,
Comfortable breath in.
And when you reach the top,
Pause for a moment.
Before letting it go with a sigh.
And repeat this a couple more times.
As you allow all the tension you've been holding in your body to relax and melt away.
We carry so much pressure.
Without even realizing it.
As we brace ourselves against life.
And all its various challenges.
NOW!
Is your moment.
To switch off from all of that.
And allow your body and mind to release all those pesky thoughts,
All those expectations and aspirations.
Just let them all fall away.
As you relax.
And as you settle.
.
.
Into your cozy nest.
Whether it's your bed.
Your sofa?
Or the chair in this cottage?
You begin to hear the fire.
Crackling in the grate.
As you focus your attention on it.
Allow your imagination.
To take over.
Starch.
To notice any worries you've been holding.
Begin to drift away into the distance like wisps of thistle down on a gentle breeze.
And if you'd like.
Imagine.
You are resting your head against the powerful chest of Sir Fergus Puddingfoot.
Are substantial.
Gentle Badger.
Bury your head into his soft fur.
As Sir Fergus absorbs all your cares and woes.
Feel the strength of his presence.
And allow him.
To soak up.
Any need you have.
To prove.
Or protect yourself.
Let it all go.
Just for today.
Because,
For now.
.
.
Your job.
Is only.
To rest.
For now.
You can simply relax a while.
As you lie here.
Sense your body.
Getting heavier.
And heavier.
As it dissolves.
Into the support beneath you.
Hmm.
Notice the stillness all around you.
Perhaps you've never really noticed it before.
There it is!
The quiet spaces.
Between the hiss.
On the snap.
Of the fire.
And the little pause between one breath and the next.
Perhaps.
If you listen very carefully.
You might begin to notice something else.
Stillness.
Isn't dependent.
On everything being silent.
It's there.
Even when the fire sizzles.
Even when the wind stirs outside.
Even.
When I thought.
Wanders through your mind.
As you slip.
Deeper.
Into this sense of calm.
You notice your body growing.
Even heavier.
And heavier.
With each passing breath.
You realize.
.
.
How snug you feel.
Nestled into the softness of your blankets.
As the sounds in your room.
Gradually fade into the background.
As you allow the night.
Take over.
Now,
Imagine that the door of the cottage is open.
Just a little bit.
Beyond it.
Lies Whisperwood.
Bathed in the soft silver light of the moon.
The woodland is quiet tonight.
Was empty.
Whisperwood is very much alive.
All the little creatures.
Seemed to have settled into the gentle rhythm of the night.
You wrap yourself in a warm shawl and step outside.
The air.
Is cool.
And fragrant.
Carrying the scent of moss.
Rosemary.
And the sweet,
Woody smell of the trees.
Slowly you put one foot gently in front of the other upon the earth.
As you begin to meander through the woodland.
You hear an owl hoot.
Welcoming you to your nighttime journey.
It passes quite close and you feel its wings beat as it glides by.
And lands in the tree beside you.
As you look up into the tree.
You see.
Mrs.
Pym.
The Robin and postmistress of Whisperwood.
Sitting on a low branch,
Her head tucked under her wing.
Fast asleep.
For once,
There are no letters to deliver.
No messages to carry.
No one requiring her attention.
And she can rest.
Leaving behind the post and provisions barn for a while.
As you continue along the path.
You hear the rustle of leaves.
As the tiny animals of Whisperwood settle into their nighttime rituals.
Wishing each other goodnight and snuggling into their burrows and dens.
Was that a flash of white you saw?
Yes,
There she is again.
Lily.
Beautiful cat of Whisperwood.
Saunters out of the woodland to join you on the path.
She curls herself around your legs and you bend to stroke her white fur with smoky markings.
As she looks up.
You are fascinated by her sparkling blue eyes.
They seem to draw you into her world.
And you feel totally calm and unhurried.
Mesmerized,
You bend to pick her up.
And she allows you to cuddle her in your arms as you rub your face against her soft fur.
And breathe in her scent.
For a little while.
Lily seems quite content to rest in your arms.
You feel the soft rumble of her purring.
And the gentle rise and fall of her breath.
Her fur is wonderfully soft against your cheeks.
And she smells of warm earth.
And the woodland.
You stand there together beneath the moonlight.
With no particular need to be anywhere else.
Then,
As cats do.
She decides that she has other things to attend to.
She hops down and tail high in the air.
She gives you a backward glance as she continues her nighttime stroll.
No sooner has she slipped between two hazel bushes and into the night.
And your path.
Rounds a gentle bend in the road.
From where you make out a soft glow from a lantern in the distance.
And you find yourself entering a clearing.
Here,
Under an enormous cork oak tree.
You spy on Corella.
A little pink piglet.
With grey splotches standing beside a large badger.
It is the Fergus again.
He is dressed in a fine ochre jacket.
A green neckerchief.
And a blue waistcoat.
They look up at you as you enter the clearing and smile.
And you return the greeting.
As you make your way over to them.
You can't help but marvel at Grandfather Bok.
By far the oldest cork oak in Whisperwood.
Indeed.
It is said.
.
.
That he has stood here.
Since the woodland.
First came into being.
His great branches spread wide,
As though welcoming all the creatures of Whisperwood to shelter beneath them.
Keeping their stories and secrets safe throughout the centuries.
At that moment.
You hear someone humming softly.
And Algernon P.
Trimble.
Are thoughtful and earnest hedgehogs.
Comes ambling towards you.
His green coat is neatly buttoned.
And as always.
.
.
His notebook is tucked under one arm.
He gives you a little wave.
Potters over to the cork oak tree.
To join your evening gathering.
You find a comfortable spot to sit on the ground beneath the roots of grandfather bark.
Sir Fergus makes himself comfortable against the trunk of the tree.
And Oinkerella.
Nuzzles into a particularly lush mound of moss.
Alginate.
Decides to join you.
And having settled himself.
Quietly.
By your side.
He slips his notebook into his pocket.
Now is not the time for questions.
Now.
Is the time.
For Hush.
For a while.
Nobody says anything.
The evening air is soft.
And a breath of wind.
Makes the leaves above you whisper.
It's a Fergus.
Gives a comfortable sigh.
Oink-a-rella nestles a little deeper.
Into the moss.
And you all rest beneath the branches of grandfather bark.
With the lantern glowing softly beside you.
And the rhythm of Whisperwood.
Lulling you.
Into slumberland.
Warm.
And safe.
Gentle.
And cozy.
Peaceful.
And protected.
The lantern flickers softly beside the roots.
Oinkerella is already fast asleep.
Her little ears twitching now and then as she dreams.
Sir Fergus has settled so comfortably against the tree.
That even his whiskers seem to have relaxed.
And alginate.
With his notebook.
Safe in his pocket.
Closes his eyes.
Above,
The leaves stir once more.
Whispering gently amongst themselves.
After a while you smile and get up to begin wandering back slowly through the woods to the cottage.
You let yourself in.
And taking off your shawl.
You settle back into the chair by the fire.
A smile upon your face.
Outside,
The wind moves softly through the trees.
Inside.
The fire gives a little splutter.
For a moment.
You sit there.
Listening.
The flames dance upon the logs and the embers glow beneath them.
One little spark rises,
Glows for a moment,
And disappears.
Another follows.
And then there is only the soft red glow of the fire.
You feel the warmth upon your skin.
Reassuring weight of the blankets draped over you.
As you notice the gentle rise and fall.
Of your breath.
The fire is settling now.
The flames are lower.
And the womb.
Is growing dimmer.
Just a warm glow from the fireplace.
So peaceful.
So lovely.
Outside,
The woodland rests beneath the midnight blue sky punctuated by a canopy of stars.
You can simply rest.
And if sleep comes.
It comes.
The night she's carrying on.
Without any need for your attention.
Trees are being trees.
Your friends are your friends.
The stars.
Are just being stars.
And the little world of Whisperwood.
Tucked up safely beneath the moon.
Good night,
Dear friend.
Sleep softly.
Goodnight,
Whisperwood.
Sleep well.
Good night.
Good night.
You you you you you
