Jan 26
And the butterfly arrived in cherry blossoms — soft, bright, and carrying spring in her wings. Let her gentle flight remind you that hope and love can melt even the coldest days. 🌸🦋✨
seen from Vietnam
seen from Iraq
seen from Switzerland
seen from Syria
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Russia
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Malaysia
seen from Mexico
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Australia
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Kazakhstan
And the butterfly arrived in cherry blossoms — soft, bright, and carrying spring in her wings. Let her gentle flight remind you that hope and love can melt even the coldest days. 🌸🦋✨
Is there truly a moment when we are in the present? Not hurdling or sketching in the past or worrying about the future, is there really a…
˙˚∘⊹🦋⊹∘˚˙
Rainbow Butterfly Pincushion! Fly into Spring with this lovely Cushion! Hand stitched with a geo- checked pattern on the back. #pincushion #butterflypincushion #butterflyart #needleartcushion #needlearts #rainbowbutterfly #butterflymagic (at Erie, Colorado) https://www.instagram.com/p/CcLPNcQOvQp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
In July we already told you what I, Shelly, grew up with. My mother always told me when we went for a walk that butterflies are little elves.
Of course, we built that into our fantasy realm ❤ So here are our elves in their butterfly form ❤
PS.: We have always represented the 4 elements as elves and we have kept it that way until today ❤
Elves are little nature spirits. They are the most important companions of our witches and the eyes and ears of the magical worlds.
If something upsets nature, they are the first to feel it. Elves are the guardians of nature.
Every butterfly has its special moment—a true celebration of life! 🌈 Witnessing their wings dance in the sunlight reminds us to cherish the beauty in all things fleeting. Take a moment to appreciate these exquisite beings and the freedom they symbolize. Let's spread joy and embrace life’s temporary wonders together!
The Butterfly Witch- Chapter Three: Where the Forest Whispers 🦋
The market was louder than usual.
Children darted between stalls with sticky fingers and pockets full of sweets. Merchants called over one another, advertising fresh bread, woven blankets, polished apples, and bunches of lavender tied with twine.
Liora had always loved market mornings.
Normally.
Today, every laugh sounded farther away than it should have. She absently traced the edge of the folded note hidden inside her coat pocket.
Remember the grove.
The words had followed her all morning like a song she couldn't stop humming.
"You've asked me the same question three times."
Henry nudged her shoulder.
"You alright?"
Liora blinked.
"What?"
"The apples."
"What about them?"
"You've been staring at them for a full minute."
She looked down. She was still holding the same apple she'd picked up several moments earlier.
"...Oh."
The orchard keeper chuckled.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Liora smiled sheepishly before setting it back into the basket.
"I'm sorry. My mind's somewhere else."
"I noticed."
Henry studied her for a moment.
"You've been strange since breakfast."
"That's comforting."
"I mean stranger."
She laughed despite herself.
"You've known me too long."
"Sixteen years."
"Seventeen."
"I was counting the year you insisted frogs could understand poetry."
"They can."
"They absolutely cannot."
"They simply choose not to critique it."
Henry snorted.
"There she is."
For a little while, things felt normal again.
They wandered between flower stalls and musicians. Henry had convinced an elderly baker to let them sample fresh honey cakes.
Liora bought dried chamomile for Eveline. A little girl offered Henry a daisy crown, and he immediately placed it on Liora's head.
She rolled her eyes.
"You look magnificent."
"I look ridiculous."
"Magnificently ridiculous."
She shoved him lightly.
An elderly woman smiled as they passed.
"You two make a lovely couple."
Both of them answered at once.
"We're not—"
The old woman laughed knowingly before disappearing into the crowd.
Liora felt warmth creep into her cheeks.
Henry scratched the back of his neck.
"...That happens more often than it should."
"It really does."
Neither of them mentioned it again.
By midday, clouds had rolled across the sky. The square slowly emptied as villagers returned home for lunch.
"I'm heading to Mrs. Bramble's," Liora said.
Henry sighed dramatically.
"Of course you are."
"I've finished my last book."
"You finished it yesterday."
"I know."
"You read too quickly."
"You walk too slowly."
"I do not."
"You stopped to pet three dogs."
"They wanted attention."
"They were asleep."
"They needed emotional support."
Liora laughed, shaking her head.
"I'll meet you by the bridge in an hour?"
"I'll be there."
He hesitated.
"...Promise you're alright?"
The question caught her off guard, and she softened.
"I promise."
It wasn't entirely true. But it was close enough.
Mrs. Bramble's bookshop smelled exactly as it always had.
Dust, leather, tea.
Home.
The little bell above the door chimed softly. Without looking up from her desk, the elderly bookseller said,
"You're late."
Liora frowned.
"I didn't know we had an appointment."
"You always come before noon."
Mrs. Bramble finally looked up.
"And you're usually smiling."
Liora tried.
Apparently it wasn't convincing.
"Hm."
The bookseller disappeared between towering shelves. A moment later, she returned carrying three books.
"I already picked these out."
"You know me too well."
"I've had twenty years of practice."
Liora wandered deeper into the shop while Mrs. Bramble wrapped the books. Her fingers drifted absentmindedly along worn spines.
History.
Poetry.
Gardening.
Travel.
Her hand stopped. One shelf looked… Wrong.
One book protruded farther than the others. She reached toward it. The instant her fingertips brushed the leather—
A rush of cold swept through her body.
The shop disappeared. She stood beneath enormous silver trees while butterflies filled the air like drifting snow. A woman dressed in ivory turned toward her. She couldn't see the woman's face, only gentle pale hands reaching forward.
Then a voice.
Soft.
Almost carried by the wind.
"Find me."
Liora gasped.
The vision shattered.
She stumbled backward into a table, books crashing to the floor and pooling at her feet.
Mrs. Bramble hurried around the corner.
"Liora!"
"I'm fine."
Except she wasn't.
Her heart was beating so hard it hurt.
The book still rested in her hand. Unlike the others, it had no title.
Only a silver butterfly pressed into the cover.
Mrs. Bramble stared at it, heer face drained of color.
"...Where did you get that?"
"It was on the shelf."
"No."
The old woman whispered the word like a prayer.
"It wasn't."
Silence settled between them.
Neither moved.
Finally, Mrs. Bramble took a slow breath.
"I've owned this shop for forty-three years."
She looked directly into Liora's eyes.
"I have never seen that book before today."
Outside, thunder rolled across the valley. Far beyond Marrowind, hidden deep within the forgotten forest, another silver butterfly opened its wings.
Someone had been found. And somewhere, something very old had begun to wake.
♡🦋♡🦋♡
Some things are soft without being weak… quiet without being small… delicate without ever breaking. 🦋✨ Even the gentlest wings can carry incredible strength beneath them.