Wait for it...

...okay now.

Naaaay.

BOTCHED.

and cropped.

Solemn stillness.

We've been doing what we can to squeeze every last drop of peppermint flavored Yule from the old place. The result is...not quite right.


Alexander chafing against his scarlet bonds.

A chilly and forlorn Yoda Claus--clearly caught in his own attempt to flee.

Eerie, floating ghost tree.

Dead-eyed Creepy, doing his best to keep his cool--imitating art as The Hare with the Pear Earing.

Joining together with hollow, reedy voices that freeze and crack in the air:

Du grunst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit,

Nein auch im Winter, wenn es schneit!

Panic on the streets of London.

But bliss in its skies.

Inspection.

On its way to another cousin across the pond.

Giddup.

Sir Orfeo's queen. Just one more hapless soul nabbed by Mab.

For one of Alex's precocious little cousins who has a love for horses. I was debating whether to send her one of the (many, sigh) tiny glass unicorns unearthed during the moving process, but (in my experience) hard handed, tyrannical little girls should never be given custody of soft-mouthed beasts, especially porcelain ones. So I settled for paper.