Sonnets of Sable

Encountering Grace ~ Chapter One

     Sable had a peculiar twang to her voice; it was part English, in intonation, and slowed in long vowels like a forgotten magnolia debutante. She was often misunderstood, like any woman in a foreign country would be, still demure but secretly blunt only to the best of friends.

   How she would tell one of her many yarns, depending on who she was talking to. In her best tales, she added occasional made-up composites of words, like griephop as a noun to describe an irrational arrogant snob or inowoom to describe a childlike woman. It served a purpose as far as her personal philosophy was concerned: “God gives only so many words a day.” She wanted to make the most of each day’s vernacular blessing.

  I was walking around town one evening and saw her sitting on her porch. Her house faced the railroad track. The sun was setting and her rocking stopped as she looked up in awe into the melting gold light enveloped with brush strokes of crimson indigo palette across the horizon. She was entranced by its splendor and so still that even the breeze thought she was invisible and missed ruffling her hair in the wind. I approached her quietly so as not to startle her in her meditation. Sable’s peripheral vision was as sharp as an eagle’s. She saw me coming long before I arrived.

   “Hey lady, what brings you out on this colorful evening? I am sure that the magic of all this,” she said brushing her hand across the sky.

   “Yes, it is a beautiful sunset. I just had to get out of the house and walk around before nightfall.”

   “Well, come on up here and sit with me a spell. I have another rocking chair right here for company,” She patted the chair arm with invitational zeal.

   “Thank you, I would love to come and sit here with you.” I moved slowly up her steps into the sacred bubble of her many years on this porch and entered her reverie with silent respect. She handed me a pair of binoculars, her voice liltingly lifted into a much younger timber. “Look over there on the left of the sky. Do you see that cloud all puffed up looking like a cotton boll?”

   “Yes I do,” I exclaimed, much surprised that I could indeed see it as she did. “It’s fluffed out and ready for picking.”

    Sable laughed, “That’s right, it is the time of the year when all the fields are ready for picking. The sky even knows it. Come tomorrow we’ll hear the planes buzzing through the air raining the musky scent of defoliant, crisping up the leaves till there’s just skeleton stalks poking up high with their big ol’ cotton heads. Harvest is what we live for around here. You hadn’t been here long have you?” She glanced at my face, with a wash of recognition that she knew I was that Yankee girl.

   Yes, Mamn,” I said. I’d been here long enough to know that most responses to elders were preceded by a yes mamn or a yes sir. It is an expression we seldom say up North, not because we are disrespectful, but because it is too formal and less friendly and often comes with a connotation of subservience to authority not needed in everyday neighborly conversation. But in the south, it is rude not to acknowledge one another without it.  

    “How are things going? Pretty different from what you are used to right?

     I hardly knew Sable; she wasn’t someone in the circle of the town. The circle was not something I had become a part of myself yet, or if ever, so I found myself telling her things that I told no one.

   “The people here are quite busy with their own families, work, and church. I am neither a Baptist nor a Methodist. Oh, I was raised a Lutheran but I am more of a spiritual day walker, I gathered up the parts of all the faiths and embrace aspects of many. I guess that either makes me unique in that or very confused.” I laughed. “And my husband is always working; he has little left over other than to sleep and hunt, so we never seem to go to church much anyway.

   It’s not like where I grew up, people do things with their families all the time, take vacations in the summer, go on picnics, swim, boat, and watch TV shows together. I thought it would be like that. It’s not and that is hard for me. I don’t have any friends that I can relate to, and need friends.”

   “The circle you seek is larger than what you think and you being an Inowoom, you are easily misunderstood,” Sable said.

   “An Inowoom?” I asked.

   “That is a woman who is an innocent. She is one of the remembered ones and with no ulterior motives present, just a joyful presence in the world, she is often considered a threat around here. You haven’t been brought here to belong, but to bring belonging to a corner of the planet that has forgotten that the circle of belonging is far wider than they know; you are feather brushed out to the edges where all eventually disappear as one. . Same goes for you too. These townspeople are all bright and shiny for you to discover and understand as well. I don’t think it will ever be easy for you. But you can only be who you are and in time the belonging will take place.

Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.

   “That’s Shakespeare!” I exclaimed, quite surprised that a rural woman would know of Shakespeare, let alone quote the sonnet so eloquently.”

   “I too am not all they would think that I am. I also wear public times with a quiet face. The larger circle brought me here too. It’s of no matter; I have my books to keep me warm and my Garden to keep me green with hope.” Sable’s face suddenly became youthful. I could plainly see her as a young woman of twenty.

  “And it doesn’t bother you, that no one knows this very special side of you?

  “No, It did when I was younger, like you, I wanted to share all the beauty I found in books. I wanted to show my paintings too, but they are like my children and I didn’t want them exposed to the glaring sun of ridicule, robbed of their brilliance in the twilight minds of others’ criticism. Life here is survival; there is little time for culture.  But I see you, I know that you are much like I was back then and you can visit me anytime.”

   “I would like that. I write a little myself, some songs too.” I told her in almost a whisper.

   “You do, well I would love to read one sometime or hear one of your songs. For all that you do is not in vain, if nothing more than to please your time here with all that you enjoy. Never mind their petty jealousies or lack of not knowing, they didn’t fall from the same star as you, and in that, they can’t be blamed, we are all from different backgrounds of experience.”

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;
For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;
Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o’er-snowed and bareness everywhere:
Then were not summer’s distillation left,
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty’s effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was:
But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

  “These sonnets have new meaning for me Sable; I feel less alone talking with you. I have to go to the store now, but I will return. Can I bring you something from the store?”

   “No thank you Miss Inowoom, I have everything I need.”

   “I hope to see you tomorrow if I could?”

   “That would be nice, I am usually right here.”

  “I look forward to it.” I left her porch the same way I entered; pushing gently through a crystalline bubble. The sun was almost gone, the mist was hovering the low roads now, lingering vaporously in mystical wisps, enchanted and truly otherworldly. I thought about ghosts,   I thought about angels, I thought about Tennessee Williams; he would have loved this place.

Giants in the Night

   The village must be saved from being crushed by horrific Giants. With the help of the Twelve Magicians of Adaya, their quest depends on the courage of one you boy, Hiram, and King Fu, his dragon. For Young Readers, and anyone who has nightmares.


    Hiram was sleeping quietly in his bed, the room was silent, and there at the edge of his bed lay his protector; his stuffed dragon, King Fu, the mighty. The curtains blew in the windows gently, rippling ever so slightly in the breeze. Outside a howl screeched, Hiram closed the covers over his head. He knew what was coming. The ground began to shake with heavy footsteps reverberating through the walls of his room with an eerie approach, louder, and louder, coming closer down the street. 

   “You hear that King Fu, they are getting closer to the town,” he said, his breath becoming louder and louder. “The Giants are coming to step on our houses; we’ve got to get them before they reach the village!” He got out of bed. “Come on King Fu, it’s up to us.” 

   He put King Fu on his window sill and said the magic words, “Abracadabra, King Fu grew larger and came alive. Hiram got on his back and they flew out the window over the village. He could see the three giants coming down the hill, their eyes cold as black stones, their huge mouths menacingly groaning. Hiram drew his optic fob wand from his side, pointing it at the middle of one of the giant’s heads, ready to fire the penetrating sound that would freeze him right where he stood; when a gust of wind blew them off course and sent them spiraling into the trees. They crashed, dangling tenuously in trepidation.    

     “We’ve got to get out of here King Fu!” King Fu roared, flapping his wings to loosen their grip on his wings. A storm was brewing in a cauldron of black clouds, “You can do it, and try harder!”  They thrashed in the tree, lightning crashing over their heads, and striking the ground. He could hear the screams of the people as the Giants came closer, he was desperate to be freed, to save his people. 

   King Fu struggled, and with one more ferocious roar, unleashed them from the tree. Above them was a blood moon rising, lighting all the clouds in crimson auras as they moved swiftly into the sky. There below them were the Giants, stomping the trees, and crushing boulders under their tremendous feet, howling in the wind. Hiram drew his orb wand out again as they reached the watchtowers outside the city where the watchmen were relentlessly ringing the bells in warning, however futile it might be, they bravely kept on though their souls trembled with every step closer the Giants took.

The Rise of the 12 Magicians ~ Chapter 2

 It seemed hopeless, fatal doom rested over the land.  The people had nowhere to run to, with heavy hearts, fearfully confused, mothers held their babies in their arms and wept, children screamed in wild abandoned billows of grief and terror; fathers sought desperately for places for them to hide, but to no avail, for if they reached the city; all would be destroyed. How can one so small as Hiram defend them against these gargantuan giants wreaking this wretched havoc upon them? 

   Out of the clouds appeared the twelve Magicians of Adaya, who have the power to make a difference in our lives, and in the world, if we simply make a point to try. The Counselors of Adaya,  bring inspiration in order to assist all with transition, and change. They inspired one to receive divine communication directly from Source, aligning them with who they truly are, blessed in the soul’s arousal of confidence and strength; receiving their inspiration meant that Hiram would  fully discover that love, and compassion, are the only way forward to freedom – an initiation that is announced in the breath of heaven. There in the whispers of their communion soul, they surrounded young Hiram, and breathed upon him light, in fulminating beauty, emanating a steady force field around him; supporting him with the courage of his heart, the strength of his body, and the willingness to succeed; something that had always been within him, but now, with the help of the Twelve Magicians of Adaya, transcended any doubts.

      Hiram drew out his orb wand, pointing it towards the Giants that angrily growled, and clawed the air where Hiram and King Fu flew. Fearfully glaring eyes pierced through Hiram, he held on tight to the mane of King Fu with one hand, wand in the other steadily aiming; waiting for the right moment to send the omission that would freeze the giants. With every bone, and fortitude of muscle and might, Hiram wheeled to the left and beamed out a long penetrating sound designed alone for stilling the monsters. The wind swept across the sky spinning the clouds into quick stills in flashes of the crimson moon that eerily lit the giants faces in maudlin angles, hauntingly obscure, and ugly. The giants stopped for only a moment to see Hiram and King Fu in the sky, gloriously surrounded by the Twelve Magicians in a magnificent orb of light. 

   The first giant reached up to swipe them out of the sky, annoyed as if they were no more than a fly. The second giant bellowed at them as if by doing so, he could scare them away. The third giant reached up to catch them in his hand with what would be a crushing clasp; it was then that Hiram sounded the orb wand. 

   “Stop your destruction giants, I am not afraid, I have the power of light and sound, go now or forever be turned to stone,” Hiram yelled believing in his power. He heroically fired the wand, and the giants began to solidify into mountains where no trees would ever grow; their faces transfixed in disbelief as they remained there frozen for all time. The people below cheered and were safe again as they returned to there homes and slept in peace.

   The sun was coming up in the east of streaming light through his window. Hiram woke up, and held King Fu close in his arms, and smiled. No longer was he afraid because he had faced the giants and his fears head-on with confidence he knew from that day on that true power comes from within. 

Unicorn Giraffe and Eva Marie

Unicorn Giraffe

by Laura Botsford and Teddi Rutschman

    I remember a time of magical twists and imagined turns so poignant that they collected in a pool where I dove down to catch the silver spoon to hold it in my hand like a magic wand. The music flowed easily, smooth as rain on a summers day. The children played across the street in the neighbors yard, squealing with delight and I was reminded once again of the sheer innocence of being tuned in to channel Imagenarium.

   Unicorn Giraffe is a wondrous book for children that boosts their belief in themselves first before they can be truly loved by others.  I have included some of the music here from the ebook as well for your enchanting enjoyment.

Ebook on blurb of Unicorn Giraffe


Featured Image -- 1553

Unicorn Giraffe by Laura Botsford and Teddi Rutschman

   So it came one afternoon, that all the dreams of a young girl appeared in a cloud and fell from the sky and landed right in her own back yard. There were rain mirages of the festooned birds that held flowered hats on their heads, ribbons woven into the tails of zebras and little larks that rode ceremoniously on their backs. It was one of those magical nights when all seems to fall into place. Evie Madeline Marie, stared out her window and listened to the thunder roll across the sky, as gentle rain misted into the rain gutters and spouted out a rivulet of clean water into the brown earth below, funneling life back into everything once again. Once there is a wish, it is bound to come true.

Unicorn Giraffe

Unicorn Giraffe

The Unicorn Giraffe is now an e book! Yes and the best part of this is that all five of the the music videos are included in the wonderful price of just 5.99. Here is the link to the Unicorn Giraffe where you can preview the first 10 pages

Now here is a lasting treasure to share with your children or your grandchildren, even counselors will love the message of this colorful and endearing tale of a unicorn giraffe.

Unicorn Giraffe by Laura Botsford and Teddi Rutschman

Unicorn Giraffe by Laura Botsford and Teddi Rutschman

A Unicorn Giraffe finds a friend in himself first before he can find friendship with others. It is a spiritual journey with deeply rich colorful magical illustrations by Teddi Rutschman, written by Laura Botsford and inspired by her original song.

Soft Cover -Standard Landscape-34 pages

Ages 2-10  and the Forever Young ISBN- 978-1-62620-112-5