Mossycup Wood

A Time Before the Pogglewitt

Mossycup Wood is a forest too ancient to count the years.  Living in the centre of this forest are the most ancient trees, this is known by everyone who lives there as Poggle Hollow.

Most people are aware that a tree becomes wiser as time stretches, the longer and further it stretches the wiser they become.

 So, in a forest like this there may be two or even three astoundingly wise Ancients among them, observing and absorbing the happenings and goings-on around them over the years.

Therefore it stands to reason, the Ancients in Poggle Hollow have much guidance and instruction to offer the younger members of Mossycup Wood, not always heeded or appreciated.

Over time the Ancients, now great in size and stature, grew a little weary of one another, especially with the younger saplings jostling and elbowing for space on the forest floor creating all sorts of tiffs and spats.  You can just imagine the hullabaloo and carryings on?

“Enough!” bellowed the Ancients, “This will not do.”

It was decided a chattery should be held to discuss the sorry state of affairs in Mossycup Wood.  Now, the Ancients do everything  v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y, so it took more than just a jiffy to find a solution, but a solution they did find.

It was proclaimed the Ancients needed something to cheer them up and make them all joyful and feel cherished again.

You could argue that all trees are loved, for they have many friends living in and around them.  Being very busy going about their daily business, their friends scarcely had a moment to natter about the weather or to just sit in companionable quiet contemplation.

No, the Ancients considered it necessary to have something of their own.

So with a lot of concentration coupled with a little Mossycup Wood magic each Ancient grew a tiny nest from a carefully chosen branch.  Nests grew from the very stuff trees are made of, including a smidgeon of magic and a healthy dollop of love.

And yes, you’ve guessed it a tiny pocket-sized thingamajig sprang from each nest; a cheerful little tree-folk whose sole purpose was to have as much fun as they possibly could.

The newly emerged tiny folk were called Halfwitt by the Ancients because they had a great deal to learn about the workings of things.  But as time stretched even further and they had listened to what the Ancients had to say, the Halfwitt grew into the Pogglewitt we love today.

The Ancients are content once again, the forest saplings are now distracted by all the fun going on around them and the squabbling and jostling for space is no more.

Contentment once again floats on the air of Mossycup Wood.

Frogbit

Although most Pogglewitt nests dangle like baubles from the branches of the Ancients in Poggle Hollow, Frogbit’s nest dangles loftily in the Wayward Willows high above Poggle Pool.

This is a very fortuitous situation and gives him pleasing views of Mossycup Brook, Poggle Pool and the meadows beyond.

Here he spends his days doing really important stuff and has little time for much else, except of course daydreaming.  He is however a very accomplished songster, his sweet warbles drifting on the breeze enticing the minnows to take a look.

You could say, that Frogbit has a particular skill at going with the flow.

Did you know you can catch up with Frogbit in his book and find out what he’s really getting up to in Mossycup Wood.

Tales of Mossycup Wood, Frogbit and the Big Gloop

Frogbit

Although most Pogglewitt nests dangle like baubles from the branches of the Ancients in Poggle Hollow, Frogbit’s nest dangles loftily in the Wayward Willows high above Poggle Pool.

This is a very fortuitous situation and gives him pleasing views of Mossycup Brook, Poggle Pool and the meadows beyond.

Here he spends his days doing really important stuff and has little time for much else, except of course daydreaming.  He is however a very accomplished songster, his sweet warbles drifting on the breeze enticing the minnows to take a look.

You could say, that Frogbit has a particular skill at going with the flow.

Did you know you can catch up with Frogbit in his book and find out what he’s really getting up to in Mossycup Wood.

Tales of Mossycup Wood, Frogbit and the Big Gloop

Sneezewort

Home, for Sneezewort is a very unfortunate oak tree.  It has never been grand, as are the other Ancients in Mossycup Wood and unfortunate is probably an understatement.

Struck at least three times by lightning it has a somewhat shabby appearance with several large flat mushrooms jutting out from the trunk like stiff pancakes.  Never-the-less, this is what Sneezewort calls home and he’s rather fond of it.

Sneezewort, unlike his Ancient, is not particularly shabby although he does tend to attract a significant number of beetles who are hard on his heels most of the time.

Content and quite unruffled by these hangers-on he sets to with the daily business of playing his Snizzle, which he does with great vim and vigour all from the vantage point of his jutting out pancakes.

Music is and has always been very important to the Pogglewitt, so much so that most of his friends over-look his trailing beetles and enjoy the sweet tones of his snizzle playing as they go about their own daily stuff.

Sneezewort

Home, for Sneezewort is a very unfortunate oak tree.  It has never been grand, as are the other Ancients in Mossycup Wood and unfortunate is probably an understatement.

Struck at least three times by lightning it has a somewhat shabby appearance with several large flat mushrooms jutting out from the trunk like stiff pancakes.  Never-the-less, this is what Sneezewort calls home and he’s rather fond of it.

Sneezewort, unlike his Ancient, is not particularly shabby although he does tend to attract a significant number of beetles who are hard on his heels most of the time.

Content and quite unruffled by these hangers-on he sets to with the daily business of playing his Snizzle, which he does with great vim and vigour all from the vantage point of his jutting out pancakes.

Music is and has always been very important to the Pogglewitt, so much so that most of his friends over-look his trailing beetles and enjoy the sweet tones of his snizzle playing as they go about their own daily stuff.

Fleabane

Fleabane is the smallest of the smallest Pogglewitt in Mossycup Wood and his home is in the branches of a fairly ordinary looking oak tree.  He is so small he is more often than not overlooked and forgotten altogether.

But despite all this, he is an affable Pogglewitt with many chums all over the forest and is always ready to lend a hand when needed.

Fleabane is generally the first to rise in Poggle Hollow.  Sucking in a lungful of sweet forest air he snoots his customary early-morning greeting to all who lives in Poggle Hollow and the forest beyond.  For such a small fellow he does in fact, possess the loudest snoot of any Pogglewitt.

But then it does sometimes seem that the smallest of things are quite often the loudest!

Curious about Fleabane’s antics in Mossycup Wood?  You can find him in –

Tales of Mossycup Wood, Fleabane and a Very Sorry Snorri

Fleabane

Fleabane is the smallest of the smallest Pogglewitt in Mossycup Wood and his home is in the branches of a fairly ordinary looking oak tree.  He is so small he is more often than not overlooked and forgotten altogether.

But despite all this, he is an affable Pogglewitt with many chums all over the forest and is always ready to lend a hand when needed.

Fleabane is generally the first to rise in Poggle Hollow.  Sucking in a lungful of sweet forest air he snoots his customary early-morning greeting to all who lives in Poggle Hollow and the forest beyond.  For such a small fellow he does in fact, possess the loudest snoot of any Pogglewitt.

But then it does sometimes seem that the smallest of things are quite often the loudest!

Curious about Fleabane’s antics in Mossycup Wood?  You can find him in –

Tales of Mossycup Wood, Fleabane and a Very Sorry Snorri

Butterfly-pea

Butterfly-pea’s Ancient is a grand old copper beech, her nest dangles loftily from a branch sheltered by its resplendent rust coloured leaves.

Although Pogglewitt are teeny tiny tree-folk living in the trees in Mossycup Wood, Butterfly-pea spends much of her time on the forest floor among the flowers.  Dainty and soft as the flowers she loves Butterfly-pea settles herself in the velvety petals and marvels in the spectacle taking place overhead.

Dancing in the air like the notes on a sheet of music, butterflies flutter this way and that making counting them somewhat tricky.  But count them she must, for we should all be acquainted with the flutterings around us.

There’s always the added bonus of having a generous sprinkling of the much-favoured butterfly-dust, a delicacy known only to the Pogglewitt.

Butterfly-pea

Butterfly-pea’s Ancient is a grand old copper beech, her nest dangles loftily from a branch sheltered by its resplendent rust coloured leaves.

Although Pogglewitt are teeny tiny tree-folk living in the trees in Mossycup Wood, Butterfly-pea spends much of her time on the forest floor among the flowers.  Dainty and soft as the flowers she loves Butterfly-pea settles herself in the velvety petals and marvels in the spectacle taking place overhead.

Dancing in the air like the notes on a sheet of music, butterflies flutter this way and that making counting them somewhat tricky.  But count them she must, for we should all be acquainted with the flutterings around us.

There’s always the added bonus of having a generous sprinkling of the much-favoured butterfly-dust, a delicacy known only to the Pogglewitt.

Snowberry

Snowberry lives amongst the ivy of an oak tree, ancient beyond ancient.  She silently weaves her magic, as does the ivy weave and twine itself around the Ancient Oak, listening to the murmurings and whisperings stretched by time.

Murmurings not of the Pogglewitt folk but the murmurings of the forest; the ebbing and flowing of seasons, the to-ing’s and fro-ing’s of saplings, the steadiness of the lichens and ferns, and the thousands of fungi delicately connecting above and below.

Murmurings and whisperings only Snowberry can hear.

The murmurings and whisperings of the forest, the murmurings and whisperings of ages passed.

Snowberry is the keeper of secrets only the Ancients of Mossycup Wood hold.

Snowberry

Snowberry lives amongst the ivy of an oak tree, ancient beyond ancient.  She silently weaves her magic, as does the ivy weave and twine itself around the Ancient Oak, listening to the murmurings and whisperings stretched by time.

Murmurings not of the Pogglewitt folk but the murmurings of the forest; the ebbing and flowing of seasons, the to-ing’s and fro-ing’s of saplings, the steadiness of the lichens and ferns, and the thousands of fungi delicately connecting above and below.

Murmurings and whisperings only Snowberry can hear.

The murmurings and whisperings of the forest, the murmurings and whisperings of ages passed.

Snowberry is the keeper of secrets only the Ancients of Mossycup Wood hold.

Elderberry

Snowberry’s Ancient is also home of her friend Elderberry who has lived there for as long as she has.  The Ancient they share together is known to everyone living in Poggle Hollow as Poggle Hall, a most important place for this is where the all-important daily celebrations of being Pogglewitt take place (but more on that later) Being as old as Snowberry, Elderberry is looked upon as someone who sorts things out when it’s needed.  A task he didn’t ask for but someone has to bring some kind of order to these sparkling and spirited tiny Pogglewitt folk.

Elderberry

Snowberry’s Ancient is also home of her friend Elderberry who has lived there for as long as she has.  The Ancient they share together is known to everyone living in Poggle Hollow as Poggle Hall, a most important place for this is where the all-important daily celebrations of being Pogglewitt take place (but more on that later) Being as old as Snowberry, Elderberry is looked upon as someone who sorts things out when it’s needed.  A task he didn’t ask for but someone has to bring some kind of order to these sparkling and spirited tiny Pogglewitt folk.

Spiderwort

Spiderwort spends most of his time in the middle of a gaggle of Pogglewitt listening intently as he relays some animated story or misadventure he has encountered.

Spiderwort is usually the first to arrive and the last to skedaddle.  Just as it’s time for bed after a long day having fun and then an equally long evening singing and dancing a jig, he launches into yet another amusing tale.

The Pogglewitt are a polite folk and it would be considered a tad rude to get up and leave or frowned upon if one were to let out a loud yawn.

Besides everyone enjoys a bedtime story, don’t they?

Spiderwort

Spiderwort spends most of his time in the middle of a gaggle of Pogglewitt listening intently as he relays some animated story or misadventure he has encountered.

Spiderwort is usually the first to arrive and the last to skedaddle.  Just as it’s time for bed after a long day having fun and then an equally long evening singing and dancing a jig, he launches into yet another amusing tale.

The Pogglewitt are a polite folk and it would be considered a tad rude to get up and leave or frowned upon if one were to let out a loud yawn.

Besides everyone enjoys a bedtime story, don’t they?

Snorri

Snorri is a Plumbagin and lives on the edge of Mossycup Wood in a place known by the locals as Hogbellow Bottom.  Hogbellow Bottom is not a place to visit if you don’t have to, so most Pogglewitt try not to stray into that part of Mossycup Wood if they can help it.  But Snorri doesn’t mind too much as this enables him to while away his time watching the butterflies and smelling the flowers.  It is, however, rumoured that Plumbagin, are partial to the taste and a little nibble of an unsuspecting Pogglewitt who do happen to stray too near to Hogbellow Bottom, or so they say….

Snorri

Snorri is a Plumbagin and lives on the edge of Mossycup Wood in a place known by the locals as Hogbellow Bottom.  Hogbellow Bottom is not a place to visit if you don’t have to, so most Pogglewitt try not to stray into that part of Mossycup Wood if they can help it.  But Snorri doesn’t mind too much as this enables him to while away his time watching the butterflies and smelling the flowers.  It is, however, rumoured that Plumbagin, are partial to the taste and a little nibble of an unsuspecting Pogglewitt who do happen to stray too near to Hogbellow Bottom, or so they say….

Bogmoss

Home for Bogmoss is high in the branches of a slightly soggy silver birch.  Beautiful clumps of thick spongey moss blanket many of the branches which Bogmoss puts to good use when cloud watching.  So soft and spongey is the moss that he quite forgets how long he has been gazing skyward, but then he is the expert at deciphering what goes on in clouds above.

Bogmoss

Home for Bogmoss is high in the branches of a slightly soggy silver birch.  Beautiful clumps of thick spongey moss blanket many of the branches which Bogmoss puts to good use when cloud watching.  So soft and spongey is the moss that he quite forgets how long he has been gazing skyward, but then he is the expert at deciphering what goes on in clouds above.

Teasel

Teasel is lucky enough to have her nest grown on an ancient rowan tree.

Rowan have a special place in the world of magic, they hold the key to understanding.  So old is this understanding that most of the Ancients in Mossycup Wood have forgotten what the understanding is and where the key may have been put for safe keeping.

But that’s of no bother to Teasel she is just delighted to share her home with such a knowing old Ancient.

She arranges her time around the seasons.  When the blossom covers her Ancient she gathers the tiny white petals to make her tasty tea and as the leaves turn orange as the year begins to slow down she turns the bright red berries in to jelly so good there is only just enough to go around.

Needless to say, Teasel has many chums.

Teasel

Teasel is lucky enough to have her nest grown on an ancient rowan tree.  Rowan have a special place in the world of magic, they hold the key to understanding.  So old is this understanding that most of the Ancients in Mossycup Wood have forgotten what the understanding is and where the key may have been put for safe keeping.  But that’s of no bother to Teasel she is just delighted to share her home with such a knowing old Ancient.  She arranges her time around the seasons.  When the blossom covers her Ancient she gathers the tiny white petals to make her tasty tea and as the leaves turn orange as the year begins to slow down she turns the bright red berries in to jelly so good there is only just enough to go around.  Needless to say, Teasel has many chums.