Whispers in the hallow
Written by Little Red, Keeper of Autumn Tales
This week’s tale includes:
Letter from the Hallow: The Story of Self Care
Storybook Kitchen: Vanilla Pudding for the Soul
The Enchanted Wardrobe: Butterfly Enchantment Earrings
The Folklore Archive: Flattery of an Owl
The Cozy Nook: The Song of Spirits
The Makers Corner: Bundles of Joy
Closing Whisper: Final Note from Little Red
Letter from the Hallow
The Story of Self Care
This afternoon, while wandering the edge of the Hallow, I saw a frog leap from a lily pad. A peculiar, crooked hop. It wasn’t the spry, springy sort of jump frogs usually make. No, this one seemed like it hurt and immediatly my heart tugged.
Before I even knew what I was doing, heart racing I stepped forward, ready to scoop it up, tend to it, save it, fix it. That familiar urgerncy rising in my chest. The one that whispers go, go, go. Someone needs you.
But before I could reach it, the frog darted into the underbrush and buried itself in a veil of ivy and soft earth.
It was difficult to spot and as much as I tried, I couldn’t find it.
Then as the clouds shifted course, a ray of sunlight spotted down, revealing the frog underneath. To my surprise, it seemed content.
I stood there, the hero in my own mind, but with no one left to rescue.
I began to feel foolish.
And strangely, relieved.
Because as I watched the frog, settled in the ivy; I realized something the forest had been trying to teach me for some time.
Maybe the frog didn’t need my help.
Maybe the frog was able to care for itself, but then a troubling thought arose; but can I?
We leap so quickly to tend, to soothe, to shield, to fix as if everything fragile needs our hands. But sometimes our impulse to save, is just a gentle hiding place for our own fear. A fear that if we stop jumping in, that we might have to sit with our own ache.
I knelt down, peering into the thicket where the frog rested. In the soft glow of the sun, the story unfolded before me.
Not every creature that hides is helpless.
Not every wound needs your touch to heal.
Not every jump requires you to chase after it.
The frog knew exactly what it needed. Earth, shade and stillness.
But what about us dear readers?
Do we know where to go when we are hurting?
Do we bury ourselves somewhere warm, take a breath and understand how we feel?
Tonight, let the frog be your teacher.
Let the forest show you what rest really looks like.
Drink some delicious tea, sit by the warmest light of the cottage and say, just once:
“I can take care of myself too.”
For even the bravest hearts need a soft place to land.
The Storybook Kitchen
Vanilla Pudding for the Soul
There is something so tender about the smell of vanilla. The moment the bottle is opened, the sweetness seems to float through the air like a memory; soft, warm and familiar. Suddenly the feeling of sunlight gathers around me in a kind embrace.
When I was a little girl, whenever worries pressed too closely in my mind, I would patter into the kitchen; open the oak cabinet, uncap the vanilla and close my eyes. Breathing in the delicious scent.
So now, as I prepare a small feast for my friends, I can’t think of anything more comforting to begin with but vanilla pudding.
Simple, warm and full of joy. Please enjoy this recipe! Maybe you too can share with some cottage neighbors down the lane.
The Enchanted Wardrobe
Butterfly Enchantment Earrings
When I was a small girl wandering the edges of the forest, I met a dear friend who lived in a meadow beyond the pines.
She was one of those who seemed to be made from sunlight itself; hair always tangled with wild flowers, laughter brighter then river stones.
Nearly every day, I would sneak through the trees to meet her. Together we would braid blossoms into our hair and pretend the whole Hallow was ours to guard.
Butterflies seemed to follow us everywhere we went back then.
Tiny enchantments flying through the air. Blues, oranges, yellows. Brush strokes of magic against the green.
We used to stop mid story, mid sentence, mid breath just to watch them dance. They always felt like little messengers of joy, reminding us that the world was far more wonderous then we yet understood.
Now, whenever a butterfly crosses my path in the Hallow, I feel that same flutter inside my chest. A reminder of who we once were and how gently time shaped us from the two young girls into two very different, yet magical, women.
These butterfly earrings echo that wonderous feeling.
The Folklore Archive
Flattery of an Owl
There’s an old tale whispered among the pines, one Grandmother used to murmur when the lantern burned low and the forest humed its nightly lullaby.
It’s said that long ago, an owl lived in a oak tree deep inside the Hallow. She was a creature of midnight wisdom, keeping watch over the mossy paths and midnight clearings. While the woods would fall alseep, she gaurded its secrets with patient, amber eyes.
One summer night, when even the leaves were too tired to stir, a restless little grasshopper found himself a tree.
He chirped, chattered and trilled his favorite song without pause; shaking the quietness the owl loved so dearly at night.
The owl asked him kindly to quiet down, once, twice, three times more. However, the more she pleaded the more the grasshopper sang with a louder voice, mistaking his noise for importance as some creatures do.
At last the owl stepped into the moonlight, blinking slowly. Her voice drifted out as soft as silk. “If I cannot have silence, little one, perhaps I can have a closer listen. Your song must be wonderful indeed to be sung with such confidence. Won’t you hop inside where the sound carries sweeter?”
The grasshopper puffed up with pride, ignored the danger and followed her in.
The Hallow soon become quiet once more.
Since then, the elders say that flattery is a a dangerous thing when it comes from a hungry beak.
Now every time I hear an owl hoot in the night, I remember: the forest listens differently then we do.
So stay smart dear readers and let this be a gentle reminder; don’t let a sense of pride tempt you into crossing into unsafe territory.
Little Reds rendition from Aesop’s Fable “The Owl and the Grasshoper” written in 300-200 BCE.
The Cozy Nook
The Song of Spirits
There are certain songs that wander into the Hallow like wild magic. Songs that spark something fierec, bright and undeniable inside of you. Not long ago, I heard a voice carried through the wind, strong enough to rattle the amber leaves and stir a fire warmly in my chest. It was a song of strength, of becoming, of remembering who you are.
I played it again and again while I walked through the mossy paths, letting the lyrics settle deep inside my soul.
I shared it with a few neighbors in the cottages today tucked along the trail; hoping too they would feel it’s warmth. The beautifully wild, steady heartbeat of empowerment.
Listen here and may it spark something inside of you as well.
The Makers Corner
Bundles of Joy
There’s a kind of delicay in making something with your own hands. The quiet, magical feeling that lives between folded paper and chiffon ribbon. On chilly evenings here in the Hallow, when the laterns glow with their amber light and the woods settles into its gentle hush, I love to wrap gifts for those I cherish.
I smooth our the paper like I’m opening a storybook, letting the colors whisper their own little tale. As the ribbon flows and ties together I can almost feel the joy for the one who will recieve it. That spark of suprise when they tear off a piece and see underneath.
Tonight’s treasure is a Date Night with a Book Bundle. Tonight I’ve chosen a romance to fit the tone.
If you’ve ever wondered how to weave that kind of charm into your own gift, come step into the nook with me.
You’ll learn just how to make your own Date Night with a Book bundle here. Or grab a copy we made today (as shown below) !
Closing Whisper
Final Note from Little Red
As the Hallow settles into its late autumn hush and the cottages prepare for Thanksgiving warmth; I leave you all with this small wish:
May you find softness in your own company, warmth in the simple things and magic tucked in the places you least expect.
Go on with bravery and surrond yourself with those who truly honor your spirit.
Wherever tomorrow finds you, at a crowded table, on a quiet walk or curled beneath a cozy blanket; may your heart feel tended to.
Until next time, dear readers,
Keep the lanterns lit and take care of yourselves.
Little Red
