Minus the bone fence it now sports...
Baba Yaga Dressed
Baba Yaga with necklace
More Baba Yaga this Weekend
An old in-progress photo (I wonder what the birds who came to the bird-feeder outside the window thought of her). This weekend, more photos, of her in full dress and glory. I'm also working on her chicken-legged hut...
The Red Horseman
Kind and most Patient Friends,
Reports of my demise have been at least modestly exaggerated. Here’s a scan of the Sunrise Horseman from Vasilisa the Beautiful (my increasingly tattered dummy thereof) just to let you know I’m still kicking. More anon, but for now:
Baba Yaga, with bones
And in need of hair-gel and better rags:
Baba Yaga, en disahabille
Not quite dressed yet...
Baba Yaga's Jewelry
Vasilisa in the Dressing Room
You know how over-zealous sales ladies are apt to burst in on one in those fitting rooms...
Vasilisa getting dressed...
Baba Yaga with Chin Hairs
One cannot have too many. I'll get a better shot of them later, but for the moment:
That's Vasilisa underway you see in the background. More of her soon...
To You, from Baba Yaga
Happy Hallowe'en!
Baba Yaga, rampant.
Me and Baba Yaga
Birdie and I will probably spend our first night in 'our' house this evening. I suspect Baba Yaga dwells there too. It is a very small house -- you could almost call it a Hut if it were made more of sticks and bones and less of lumber and paint. Most strikingly, it hides low amidst trees grown amok. Though it's right in town on a civilized little street, it does lie in the lap of the foothills, and my mother created not a yard but a miniature wildwood. The trees call over rooftops to their wild mountain cousins, and bears come looking for tidbits. There are mad-grown junipers whose cragged shaggy arms stretch for wee plump children passing on the sidewalk. These witch-trees were summoned some forty years ago by my Granny, herself a close associate of all famous folktale Crones. My mother and I together planted some now towering pines and well grown spruce, blue and dark. Tiny blue-purple wildflowers linger. Lichenous stones lure one to sit and wait in green shadow for...
Altogether, perhaps a better place to make magic than I had credited when last I lived here -- ghosts of dread and mundane things (like high school) obscured my vision.
We shall see.
Vasilisa the Beautiful...
Just another detail from my take on 'Vasilisa the Beautiful.'