flax-golden tales: warning sign

warning sign

There was indeed a warning sign, as people mentioned repeatedly after the fact.

In her defense, it was difficult to read.

The sign had once been clear and foreboding, though perhaps over the years it tired of its assertive manner and as fewer and fewer people passed by to read it stopped trying so hard.

And perhaps it is only a coincidence of erosion that the letters spelling out the key word “not” were the first to fade, leaving “do” and “drink” and “this” and “water” mostly legible.

(If it was a purposeful deceit, the sign will not confess.)

But whether she followed the legible instructions instead of the original posted warning or simply didn’t notice the sign at all and drank to quench a thirst, she can no longer say.

Her own voice is gone, vanished as soon as the water–clearer and crisper than any she had tasted before–touched her tongue.

Now her head is filled with thousands of other voices whispering secrets and confessions, answers to unsolved mysteries and long-lost truths since replaced by lies.

The authorities (likely the same ones who posted the sign so long ago) put her in a locked room while they decide what to do with her.

She continues to clearly indicate that she would like a pen, but they are all too afraid of what she might write.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

a few things and a few photos

  • There is an interview with me featuring hostile questions from Daniel Kraus over here on Booklist. (He signed my copy of Rotters “Daniel Kraus loves Erin!” so I don’t know what his problem is now.)
  • Start Here reached its funding goal YAY! Thank you to all who chipped in. Though this means I have to finalize my Neil Gaiman recommendations. Hrm.
  • I have been missing in action from the internet for the last while partially because I spent last weekend in the land of lousy cell phone service known as Cape Cod for my sister’s wedding. Everything was beautiful, even the weather cooperated, and I couldn’t be happier for her and my new brother-in-law. There will possibly be proper photos of me in bright blue chiffon forthcoming but for now here are a few Instagram-captured snippets of the weekend.
  • (Yes, she got married under a striped tent, though the stripes were also blue.)

 

 

flax-golden tales: relics

relics

My grandmother started the collection but my father kept adding to it once he inherited. He’s already explained the key rule to me in case I want to continue it myself someday: they have to have been used.

There are antique hand-painted porcelain ones and cheap plastic versions with muddied features. Some are exaggerated cutesy cartoons while others are properly proportioned with highly detailed suits and gowns. Tiny top hats. Minuscule lace.

A few have traces of long-dried frosting clinging to hems or dusting shoes like sugar snow.

I wonder what each pair’s wedding was like. What they saw through unblinking eyes before being taken down from their tiered cake watchtowers.

I know realistically it’s unlikely that each miniature couple’s life-sized counterparts lived happily ever after, but I hope that they did.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

only a few days left for start here!

Hey, remember how everyone was all excited that I’m going to write a chapter about how to start reading Neil Gaiman for BookRiot‘s Start Here project?

Well, if it doesn’t reach its funding goal, it won’t happen. There are only three (3!) days left and less than $5,000 to go. So please, if you think this sounds like a nifty, worthwhile project, contribute even a little bit. There are very cool rewards, too.

Tell your friends! Help reach the in-sight goal! Otherwise, I shall never reveal what I think is the best route for wandering into the wonderful world of Gaiman. And I do have a decent idea of what I’m talking about here:

flax-golden tales: do-it-yourself centerpieces

do-it-yourself centerpieces

I worry that they won’t get it.

I half-heartedly ask if maybe we should include instructions but everyone frowns.

But I’m relieved when the consensus is no.

And still a teensy bit concerned that they won’t know what to do.

Or worse, that they will find it silly.

We place the bouquets of white flowers at the center of each white-covered table.

We make sure the crayons are close enough to the flowers to be clearly connected.

When the guests arrive there are whispered questions and curious glances that are soon are replaced with thoughtful color choosing and tentative experimenting.

The delighted laughter follows.

Before long blooms burst with color on every table.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

shiny objects

This is a belated post regarding a belated birthday present.

At the end of July my dearest darling friend Clovia Shaw sent me this as part of a belated birthday box of wonderment:

Yes, she made it, and it is even lovelier in person because shiny objects are rather difficult to photograph, especially when they are on your hand.

I tweeted this photo when I first got it and people asked where they could get one, and while mine was actually a test ring (she’s never made one before, believe it or not) you can purchase other shiny objects including fantastic door necklaces over at her Etsy store.

She also does custom work, I’m just sayin’. She might more rings if we ask nicely.