© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2016
I love nature. I love dawn and dusk, and the twilight times. I love fanciful stories, myths, and fables. I love the magic of that wonderful place where they all meet-childhood. Whether it is the dew drops of a magical early autumn morning, a blanket of snow enshrouded in the darkening purple shadows of whispering winter pines, the sound of freshly green blades of grass singing in the after math of a spring rain, or twilight shadows of a summer evening giving refuge to the scurrying of fairies with lightning bug lanterns, playing hide and go seek with the moon, I love it all. It is a gift, instilled in me, from my mother. But like fairy dust, in a blink of an eye, it can be gone all too soon.
But, in those rare magic moments-of slivers of moon and glistening of snail trails, of quiet star mornings in winter tales, I reach for a small piece of it, a small piece of my mother, to hold close to me, always.