Titania and Oberon, the Fairy Lovers unite, and Spring blossoms with their passion.
Category Archives: fantasy hats
Angels among Us…
They appear from nowhere, stepping out of the mist along the water’s edge… Wings slightly tattered she stood on the shore, looking out to the gentle infinity of blue. When she looked at me I saw it in her eyes – reflected. She stood there and focused her gazer slowly upon me. Light radiated from her face, the third eye in her forehead, and her flaming hair. I stood silent , gently absorbing her radiance.
I can only be thankful I was there at that moment. I followed her walking along the beach. I watched as she danced, the two of us alone on the shore as the birds swooped around her, like music. we were connected as if by a psychic thread, a while glowing string that pulled me along as she walked….I followed her further, walking through the places no one walks, abandoned warehouses and a shoreline that skirted the grey city as if sh e were a mermaid who had found both feet and wings..
We walked, her movements connected somehow to my heart with that glowing but invisible string pulling me along, as if I could walk over water. I wondered where she was going, and where she would take me; where she lived and if she would walk gently over top the silvery water of the lake. Nothing seemed real and nothing seemed impossible. She looked as if she had walked out of time, stepping through centuries or decades at will, with her black boots and her wings carrying her. Her black coat was long and old. Trimmed with fur and wide skirted, swirling its heavy skirts in the wind as she moved in her joyous circles, its sleeves covering her hands that flashed white like her face. She could have stepped from any time or place… Medieval England, Victorian Ireland, she could have been the original Strega de Buonaventura, or a salem witch… her beauty was rich – half spirit and half earthling.She walked as a spirit among us, half flesh and half an electric being of light , her cells were oscillating wave lengths filled with rainbows of light. I saw them when I looked into her clear, almost transparent aqua eyes. . The radiance was blinding.
Darkness was falling quickly. The moon was in perigree, full and about to rise. She was hurrying somewhere, taking me with her.. The lake and city spread before us across the lake. I watched the sun set through the darkness of her silhouetted wings.
Angels appear as messengers, harbingers of change at times when we are most sensitive, when the veils thin and we can see the angels and spirits that walk amongst us … She glowed with light and fire, mirroring the sunset. I watched them both fade as she became a chameleon, her skin slowly merging with the colours in the sky until it turned into darkness, and she disappeared into the early winter night.
Chapeaux Fantastiques
My fantasy HATS … and Headdresses… Magical creations, each one is a small and unique work of art. Some are made entirely with natural elements and flowers like fairy wreaths Others are for city wear, weddings and special occasions. Created with love and and embellished with silk faux flowers, pearls and threads they are made to order and each is a a celebration of the joys of spring… a Chapeau Fantastique !
Black Spring
Persephone is still in darkness, here… in the North. Our bodies and hearts yearn for her and we pray for her emergence…
Struggling to break through into the light, she is surrounded by flowers and tendrils and roots, coming alive all around her. She breathes love and fire into the black earth, incubating life with her sighs and her breath.
.This image is part of a series I have been working on of the Goddesses and the Seasons…Created with photographic imagery,painting and digitalization.
All rights reserved.
The Wolf Princess
Willing me towards her, her grey eyes lit the darkness aglow… Snow kept falling steadily all around us. I saw we were not alone… Her companion appeared beside her and fixed his eyes upon me. Looking up I saw a circle of many eyes reflecting the light, behind him. A mantle of grey hung from her shoulders and she wore a crown of white antlers and pearls. She fixed her gaze upon me and suddenly a warm glow entered my blood stream, pulling me deeper into her inner vortex; mesmerizing me in my tracks.
I could feel the eyes of the entire pack gazing with her, all of them blinking in unison; flickers of gold in the night.
It was Embolic. I had come out to pour warm ewe’s milk into the snow to feed the earth for her awakening in the coming spring. My dreams were in the milk… They were all written on white papers that I had shredded finely. Mixing them with my prayers, I had immersed them in the warm milk sweetened with honey… Wandering out into the night holding my warm pot of milk I searched for an auspicious place to plant my dreams. She had been watching me and following me silently.
With one nod and a sweeping gesture, the pack circled in and surrounded me…
from my new novel ” Arizona,” book five of the fantasy fiction series,”FlameDancer” coming soon… copyright, 2016, all rights reserved…www.natashavon.com
Natural World … of Flowers , Fairies and Childhood ..
Eyes of wonder ; my eyes as a child . I was dazzled by flowers . They enchanted me . I knew all their names . My mother taught me . She taught me to sing to them , and to ask their forgiveness and to thank them , before I ever plucked one . Their spirits would be at peace that way , and would welcome me when I encountered them again .At other times or in other gardens .
Never make an enemy of a fairy .
She taught me how to make fairy crowns each summer . My favorites we would make in June , weaving daisies and sometimes roses into headdresses adorned them with vines , and other flowers . Singing songs , plaiting and winding the stems of the flowers, my mother taught me to honor their spirits , and to reach out to them with song . She taught me how to feel out melodies , to speak to them to find their songs , trying several until the right tones came .
Songs call out the fairies . The right tone once found , resonates , and calls them out . One must be very quiet , and in a solitary place to call them . Different spirits of Nature respond to different sounds . Some instruments can call them out of their hiding , like the pipes of Pan .The veil between our worlds is shattered . The song is a passe partout … it opens the doors , and they are freed , Curious , they step into our dimension . we can feel them , sometime we can see them , and sometime , sometimes , they put on their glaomour , and opening their doors , welcome us into their realm of perception .
Midsummer is the portal . We can then step through the veils of parallel dimensions , fairy walking . Enter the world of Flora and Persephone , of our Goddess Gaiia . A world of greem ; of plants and flowers . Entering the fairy realm , we can then ask for teaching and seek knowledge , asking their guidance . That is the place of shamans and healers . My hand was taken , and I was led there .
The fairy blood runs in my own veins , always passed through the maternal side . My Mother and her Mother had been schooled in the old arts by their mothers and grandmothers before them . A long line of pagan queens , they nurtured each girl child in the old ways as they had been for generations past .
Gathering seeds , saying prayers ,they sang their songs ,roadmaps to another world , 
gleaning , brewing , spreading their love and their knowledge . And healing …. with the whispered gifts of fairies .
Working beside her in gardens . Loving and tending the earth . Sifting it and digging it to come close to its’ secrets .
How can one be a healer if you do not know the language of the herbs and plants and flowers … How can you be its’ lover if you have not tended the rose , and been pricked by its; thorns ? But , I am getting so far ahead … years forward .
I want to stay there still for a moment longer . Weaving chains of daisies as I did as a child , singing songs , and dreaming of the dreams that I would one day weave into my own crown of flowers .
Flora – Punk Style
Flora Moderne – style Punk ,
Scorpio meets Gemini …
The air is singing , tingling with her vibe …
She has burst out from the Underworld and is rocking in pink , punk style … singing her spring song ,
3 planets in Gemini , and the Sun ,
and she has
an amphetamine
heart ….
Related articles
the little things …
small , but eloquent Where would bigness be without the small ?
It is the detail that brings the smile , the finishing touch … the sense of whimsy .
The detail brings sparkle , the light in the twinkle of an eye … the curl in the corner of a mouth … A love letter hidden in a bodice , and springtime reflected in a young girl’s eyes … and a little hat – on a pretty girl’s head , especially in springtime , is a delicious delight . a little thing , but such an eloquent statement … A wonderful bit of whimsy … a lace collar , a jewel , or an artwork of hat speaks , sings , and has a presence and personality all its own .
A small detail , and a small package perhaps , but with it comes amazing style …A silk satin chapeau , pearl embellished , trimmed with ostrich feathers ,hand made and fit for an heiress from the Great Gatsby Era , this little detail creates magic as soon as it is put on . Perfect in lieu of a veil for a very modern retro bride …. and for a Twenties style , Gatsby influenced wedding ensemble .
Available by custom order directly from NatashaVon ,or on Etsy https://www.etsy.com/listing/150145681/silk-rose-and-ostrich-gatsby-wedding
Photographed and styled by the designer , and modeled here by Julia Fairchild.
Cupid’s Arrow and a Bed of Roses
A Bed of Roses
Thinking of you , I close my eyes , and I am lying back on a bed of roses ,
Their petals caress my skin ,
a sacrament of bliss .
I sigh ,
the murmur of love escapes from my heart ,
juice escapes from the flower
opening ,
and throbbing between my thighs ;
sweet , like honey ,
my crystal nectar
for the bee.
I dream a moment longer ,
And feel your kiss
upon my lips .
Open to receive you ,
a sacrament of bliss ,
nectar exchanged from your lips
to mine ,
Your curls falling over my face like tendrils from a sacred vine .
encircling me with the sweetest bondage ,
for this ,
Is
A love
divine .
from , ” My Unchained Heart ”
a compilation of poetry and prose ,
copyright , Natasha von Rosenschilde , 2013
Cupid’s Arrow … A Gypsiy’s Love Song
Angels dance , slowly lifting and dipping their wings .They are joined by their cosmic reflections , mirrored as if in a celestial kaleidoscope , and swirl in huge circles , casting rainbows of many colored lights all around them when they smile . I feel their undulations inside my body , and shudder with delight .My hips join them as I sway to the sound of a thousand imagined guitars . I undulate with the music , feeling its’ sound like a ancient call. It is making my body want to move in big full circular curves . Big , rolling loops .
I want to write your name in blazing arabesques upon the sky . I see it now , before my eyes ; the letters of your name – huge curling tendrils ; silver and black on sky blue pink , painted with infinity . The letters become Arabic calligraphy ‘ alive and moving , writing the names of all the lovers we have had since forever started , all the lovers who have lived , all the lovers who have died for love . And each name turns into a paisley from a cosmic egg ;
a psychedelic Shamballa all written on that sky .
One paisley swirls , changing colors , and becoming another ; merging with another name, and they all keep on swirling into each other ; creating new universes as they meet , dance , and multiply .
I close my eyes ,
In the end ,
they all become your name .
in praise of your beauty .
Forever emblazoned on the sky .
Your name is love .
And all sounds become one .
The song of the stars ,
hums
your name .
And I can hear it
Throughout the heavens ,
As it resounds
Through my heart ,
And the angels all sing it ,;
Your name is love ,
And you are my lover ,
Our dance makes the Earth smile ,
And the heavens
As they
dance ,
and the guitar sings .
Our name
is
love .
Fractals , I believe ….
My body reflects them ;
I am all made up of fractals .
The paisleys now swirl inside of me as well , and I continue to dance for you .
Swirling , the movement is a genie and takes over my body .
I must remember to light candles
for the souls
of the dancers
and all the lovers
who have danced,
and who have died
in the name
of
love .
English: Image demonstrating the Sini script of Islamic Calligraphy Typefaces are ineligible for copyright in the United States. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
