Enchanteur's Gifts

gifts

Pass your cursor over the parcels to find E's gifts. These are gauranteed to keep a writer or artist busy for months, if not all year long.

gift

gift

E invites you to sign for the Pythian Games and develop your skills in a public arena.

stocking

On the 12th Night Enchanteur will set out with a group, through the Murmuring Woods to Lemuria. If you are interested in joining us simply contact heatherblakey at fast mail dot fm.

Collaborative Blogs

The following, collaborative blogs are open to all member of Soul Food. All you need to do is let us know that you want to play and we will sign you up.

Riversleigh Manor
Pythian Games
Taverna di Muse
Arte Culineria
Digital Atelier
Temple of Solace
Wild Garden
Soulful Art Room
The Calabar Pirate Ship
Heart Places

Each year a new Halloween blog, along with other specialty blogs are created. Members will be notified if there is a new blog to engage in.



The Rookery - Day Twenty Four

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the blue stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose!

Twas the Night Before Christmas

raven

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The blue stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The ravens were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And Sibyl in her ‘kerchief, and Ebony in her cap,
Had just settled their brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But eight shining black ravens, emerging from the rear.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be a trick.
More rapid than eagles her coursers they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and with Enchanteur too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard a scuttling of claws
A banging, a thumping, which roused everyone indoors
As I drew in my head,I heard a sound
Down the chimney came ravens all fluttering around

She was dressed all in fur, from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a peddler, just opening her pack.

Her eyes-how they twinkled! her dimples how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard stuck on her chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of her pipe she held tight in her teeth,
And the smoke it encircled her head like a wreath.
She had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when she laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

She was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself!
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the blue stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose!

She sprang to her sleigh, to her team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, ‘ere she drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863) wrote the poem Twas the night before Christmas also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822.
Many apologies to C.G. Moore for this version.