Welcome to a place of mystery and making.
Where miracles can be found in the commonplace.
A heaven, and a hell, in the everyday.
Explore where rivers talk,
Ink inspires, forests stalk, and dryads leer…
A strange place for the unaccustomed.
Seldom traversed unaccompanied.
Behind any breeze, may be tigers…
Down any lane, may be gold…
My name is John Fulwood.
The year has not been as expected…
There have been many changes.
The door is open.
And I am six days away from another century.
I am expecting many guests,
Some of whom, will be human.
In the forest…
Those who require the shaping of metal,
Know me as a blacksmith.
Those who require the shaping of words, a bard.
But most ask for food.
To them, I am a farmer.
Few know the other things I can be…
Unlike my neighbours,
I know of what lies beyond the forest…
I know what both men and fairies can do.
In the winter, a singer of songs.
Sometimes merry, sometimes not.
The tale…I grant you, is a curious one.
This is my garden, and these…are my songs.
Welcome to Fairytale Farm!
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