On the eve of midsummer, when the air was heavy with the scent of wild thyme and rain-soaked earth, the druids would gather at the heart of the grove. There, in a circle of standing stones slick with moss, the Fern of the Old Ways was laid upon a bed of embers. Bronze leaves caught the firelight, glimmering like trapped sunset, while beads of red and green shimmered as though they had been plucked from the forest’s own breath.
Each druid whispered their offering into the fern’s curling fronds — vows, secrets, and promises too heavy for mortal ears. When the flames finally claimed it, smoke spiralled upward, carrying their words into the dark canopy where the forest spirits lingered.
By dawn, the ritual was complete. The trees stood silent, the shadows still, and the spirits — sated for another year — slipped back into the roots and stones from which they had come.
For kindred spirits, curious souls, and lovers of handmade things. The Blood & Daisies newsletter is part studio letter, part secret club — come sit with us.
Choosing a selection results in a full page refresh.
