Ginny Green thumb

What are you doing up in that tree Ginny Green Thumb, what do you see below?

And what is in that little jar you carry everywhere you go? 

No doubt some special fairy potion to make our gardens grow.

Ginny is a determined little sprite with a no-nonsense attitude and a serious green thumb. Gardeners would do well to leave little treats for her every now and then (her favourite is honey), she'll make sure your tomatoes always ripen to perfection.

Ginny is entirely hand stitched from natural fibres with the exception of her wings. Her tiny dress is made of hand dyed velvet and cotton; her wild hair is silk and mohair yarn and her delicate features are hand embroidered; her hat is hand dyed, sculpted silk. She stands in a needle felted toadstool garden of wool and silk. Her copper wire frame allows her limbs to be adjusted.

A Cardinal in the Garden

...Then came green meadows, broad and bright,
  Where dandelions, with wealth untold,
Gleamed on the young and eager sight
Like stars of gold;

And on the very meadow's edge,
Beneath the ragged blackberry hedge,
Mid mosses golden, gray and green,

The fresh young buttercups were seen,
And small spring-beauties, sent to be
The heralds of anemone:

All just as when I earliest heard
    The cardinal bird.

Upon the gray old forest's rim
  I snuffed the crab-tree's sweet perfume;
And farther, where the light was dim,

I saw the bloom 
Of May-apples, beneath the tent
Of umbrel leaves above them bent;
Where oft was shifting light and shade
The blue-eyed ivy wildly strayed;

And Solomon's-seal, in graceful play,
Swung where the straggling sunlight lay:
The same as when I earliest heard
    The cardinal bird.

--William Davis Gallagher

Come away, O human child

The Stolen Child

Where dips the rocky highland 
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island 
Where flapping herons wake 
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries 
And of the reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild 
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses 
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses 
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances 
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap 
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles 
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild 
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes 
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes 
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout 
And whispering in their ears 
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out 
From ferns that drop their tears 
Over the young streams 
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild 
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing 
Of the calves on the warm hillside 
Or the kettle on the hob 
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob 
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For he comes, the human child!
To the waters and the wild 
With a faery, hand in hand,
From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.

--W.B Yeats