Timothy the Extraordinary Lamb

I, Timothy, live on Penstemon Farm.  The Farm sits on the very top of a grassy meadow filled with wildflowers during the warm months.  A variety of majestic mature trees border the stream that flows out of the meadow's internal spring down from Penstemon into the neighboring forest.  

In recent years, new residents have arrived at our farm.  They are called Whimbles, very wee fey folk that I like ever so much.  Along with their unique Companions and Friends, they travelled years ago from a faraway land called Caelumen. Each of them finds that Penstemon Farm is a perfect magical environment for them, replicating in many ways their distant beloved land.

Two of my favorites are The Sweet Pea Whimble, Annabelle, and her Companion, Gillian, the tiny field mouse.  They come from Caelumen's Working Gardens and are ardent gardeners. Sometimes I help them with their early spring raised beds. Gillian often rides proudly on my back between my two saddlebags. We bring back soil from The Farm or fallen sapling branches from the forest for trellising vines.

Annabelle tends to be bossy. The little field mouse is exhausted after taking orders from her.  She, a fine baker, may well climb up to her Maple Tree Home to bake sweet nothings for her best friend, knowing full well just how diligent he is at sowing all the new seeds. As the afternoon shadows grow long and the temperature drops, the two shed their well worn wellies and repose in their Woodland Teester Bed sharing tea and shortbread cookies.  

I return up the cobble drive to Penstemon Farm, happy to go into the barn for my evening meal and a good night's sleep where I dream of helping my two friends as their garden comes to life. (la fin from Penstemon Farm -  Earth)