Pilgrimage of the White Dove

For the longest time I have been hoping to catch sight of a dove in our orchard.

Although we clearly love the starlings, robins, and the tiny goldfinches who call our trees their summer's home,there are whispered tales among them of a mysterious white Dove who silently passes through these parts in the spring.

They speak of a large Dove who makes his way to the northern most parts of the country, carrying frosty children born in the midst of winter's chill. Delicate faeries who cannot bear the heat of summer. Together, they make the long arduous journey to the Elven ice palaces at the north pole to be cared for and nurtured.



Even though I did not catch sight of an elven saddle slung across his back, perhaps, just perhaps, this white bird is on his way south to gather his precious dispatch.

I have a feeling, if diligent on my watch,that in a week or two I might just catch sight of the Winter's Child and the Dove as theycontinue their northern pilgrimage.

We shall see what we shall see...

Be watching ...