This picture and name are a great example of my creepy dad joke love. It’s the worst of puns, and has just enough suggestion…ok it is more than the hint I pretend…but still. Whatever, it is fine.
Anyway, I drew it when I first discovered white pens. Yes, I had no idea white ball point type gel pens where around and this good. Needless say, I make up reasons to use them all the time now. Anyway, I felt like they gave this sloppy sketched faery enjoying ALL of the flowers in the garden the mystical touch it needed.
I may rework this one digitally and see if it wont make a decent Ukiyo A card over at Fortean Giftoreum.
Because it is hilarious to see what the robot thinks when I discuss art with it, here is the view of my trained circuit board.
A gentle whisper carried on the dawn breeze announced the faery’s arrival. She flitted through the cool morning air, her translucent wings shimmering like stained glass in the soft sunlight. The garden, still dappled with dewdrops that clung to the petals and leaves, was her playground—a hidden sanctuary of vibrant blooms and sprawling greenery.
She hovered above a cluster of buttercups, her delicate frame no larger than a hummingbird’s. With a graceful descent, she landed on one of the golden petals, her feet barely bending its curve. Her touch was as light as the breath of spring, and the flower seemed to bow its head in welcome. She smiled and leaned down, her silken hair falling like a veil as she pressed her lips to the dewdrop cradled in the center of the flower. The sweet, cool liquid glistened on her lips as she drank, a fleeting refreshment that brought her the taste of the earth’s purest nectar.
The faery flitted to a nearby rose, her tiny hands caressing the soft petals as though memorizing their velvet texture. She whispered to the flower, her voice a melody too delicate for human ears, and the rose seemed to blush deeper in response. A playful laugh escaped her as she twirled, scattering drops of dew like tiny prisms that caught the sunlight and painted rainbows in the air.
Moving from bloom to bloom, she danced across the garden. The daisies tilted their faces upward, as if yearning to bask in her glow. The lilacs swayed in the breeze, as though humming a song for her to dance to. Even the ivy leaves, ordinarily stoic in their climb along the stone wall, trembled with delight as her fingertips grazed them.
At last, she came to rest on a moss-covered rock at the center of the garden. Her wings folded gently behind her as she reclined, gazing at the canopy of leaves above. She reached out to pluck a single honeysuckle blossom, tilting it to sip its golden dew. The sweetness filled her with a sense of joy so profound that she let out a soft sigh, her voice blending with the hum of bees and the chirping of birds.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the faery knew her time in the garden was drawing to a close. She stood, brushing stray specks of pollen from her shimmering gown, and spread her wings once more. With a final look at the garden—her fleeting paradise—she blew a kiss to the flowers, promising to return.
And then she was gone, a glimmering streak of light vanishing into the morning, leaving only a faint shimmer on the petals and a lingering sense of magic in the air. The garden, though quieter now, seemed somehow brighter, as though it, too, had basked in the faery’s fleeting touch and held her memory within its blossoms.
I really don’t know if the robot made it more pure or dirtier. Oh well. Have a great day!
