A Very Fond Wibbly Farewell

Dear Friends,

We are sad to say that Wibbly Wobbly Woods will be under a deep and restful slumber for some time. We Wibblians have become quite overwhelmed with life and it's many wonders. And, though we have enjoyed sharing our lives (illustrations) with all of you, it is time, as many great stories go, to end this particular chapter.

When the woods awaken from it's quiet repose, and the spring flowers are seen amongst the thistle bushes and brambles, we hope to once again open our homes, hearts, and imaginations to all of you- the most Wibbliest of us all.

But please, keep a lookout for a flutter amongst frosted trunks, or the scurrying between evergreen branches- for you may see one of us.

Spring Morning
Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow--
Up on the hill where the pine-tress blow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little one, baby one, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.

If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You'd sail on water as blue as air,
And you'd see me here in the fields and say:
"Doesn't the sky look green today?"

Where am I going? The high rooks call:
"It's awful fun to be born at all."
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
"We do have beautiful things to do."

If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You'd say to the wind when it took you away:
"That's where I wanted to go today!"

Where am I going? I don't quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the woods where the blue-bells grow--
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

~A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young