22/09/2025
Aww this is so nice and a lovely reminder to take time out and rest just as nature shows usđ©”
                                        Mouse came home from a very busy Monday with her whiskers all frazzled and her tail in a twist. She said to herself, very firmly indeed:
âFirst I shall write a poem, then I shall make tea, then I shall read my book, and then, and only then, shall I rest.â
But you know what happened. She poured the tea, she fetched the notebook, she opened the book â and she curled up just so in her chair by the fire. Her eyes went blink-blink-blink⊠shut.
Zzzzzzz!
And away she floated into a dream.
Her patchwork blanket rose like a puff of wind, and up, up it carried her until she was floating over The Glen and the village beyond. Below, the hedges were bursting with blackberries, apples gleamed like golden balls in the trees, and mushrooms popped their little heads up as if they had something terribly important to say.
Then the wind stopped, and Mouse heard a voice â the voice of Autumn herself.
âLittle Mouse,â said Autumn, âDo you see, little one? Today the scales rest even. Half light, half dark. Half fruit, half thorn. Half full, half empty. Not a quarrel, but a balance â for both together make the whole.â
Mouse wiggled her whiskers. âSo even the long dark cold days have their place?â
âOf course,â said Autumn, with a laugh like falling leaves. âSeeds sleep in the soil, just as hearts find rest in silence. Think of it as Sabbath, or as stillness under the Bodhi tree. The dark is not the end â it is the root of beginning.â
And with that, Autumn sent a scatter of apples rolling, and sloes twinkling purple, and damsons falling into the grass â as if to say: Notice, little one, the gifts all around you.
Mouse wriggled deeper into her blanket. âThen I shall stop worrying about all the things I did not do today,â she murmured. âFor resting is also a prayer. Dreaming is also a poem.â
And Autumn whispered back, âYes, just so.â
And so, on this Autumn Equinox, I give thanks â to those who are new to The Glen, welcome, and to those who have walked these paths with me for many seasons, my heartfelt gratitude. Tonight the light and dark stand in balance, just as we gather here in friendship.
These little stories, written and illustrated for you by me, Victoria Beata, are my way of sending a candle into the dusk. May you carry a little of this warmth into your evening, and may you return tomorrow, when another tale will be waiting for you. đżâšđ Until tomorrow... sweet dreams.