tis the time of year when the white whiskered wizards and the knobby kneed gnomes come and visit the wild woods. They come to meet with the freckled fairies (not to be confused with the fair fairies over the glen near the glade) to tell winter stories, tales of wonderous storms with whipping winds and snowflakes which collect in your eyebrows and taste like white when they fall on your tongue.
You can see where the Wizard’s carriage with two wheels per side glided over the bridge.
They are here now for the woods are beautiful, peaceful and empty. They have heard us say goodbye and muttered words of good season sometimes uttered two or three times to the same visitors. It is their time to play.
If, perchance, you do come back, glide softly and quietly through the deep woods. No, you will not see them, but if you are still for a minute and listen with your heart, you will hear faint laughter amid the rustle of the trees.