Introducing Meerann
1
Each day, Meerann worked her churn by the pond on the edge of the forest. It was crafted from seashells and bound with reeds from the riverbank. Slim, flat laces that crisscrossed the surface in shades of uaine and straw blended beautifully into the fine shell cover. She was a Keeper of Colour and Scent and a member of the Artisan of Light and its Society, and most mornings Meerann sat back and watched as forty shades of purple and green breathed new day tones that bubbled on the rotating vortex.

As she worked, the colours summoned came alive to interact with the world, like the bank of yellow daisies --that covered the roots of the maple and oaks-- that occasionally needed re-inking, or the border of roses that grew along the pond's edge, their purpose was two-fold, while their shades of colour changed with the light impressions, their stems added a bank of thorns that served as a support structure and a conduit for the changing nutrients that exploded in the healthy soil, and also served as a warning for trespassers.

Interspersed along the forest floor, waves of lavender created a contrast; purple hues whispered of twilight mysteries, as the uaine foliage echoed the fresh, crisp scent of morning air and the blue, reds and lemons of the wild flower mix illustrated a thought of the wilder sky.

This floral display swirled together, to create a visual melody that resonated with the soul, and each brushstroke became a note, in an unfolding symphony that drew the observer into a dance with nature.

And every day was different, each crafted with its own vibrant code that oozed life and scented the air with jasmine, honeysuckle and apple blossom and with all the scents that flitted through the air, peony; violet; freesia; gardenia ... and more.

The land around the river mirrored the light of the sky; it was reflected in the lake as small birds and insects flew over and through its presence: Like chameleons, riding waves of light and sound, floating on a humming, whispering, harmonious cadence that added music to the rich moods of the surrounding countryside as the hours rolled through.


2
It was noon, the 12 o'clock docking. From the ground, an archer stood poised, his silhouette sharply outlined against the bright midday sky. With the grace of a seasoned artist, he nocked an arrow, the shaft sleek and perfectly balanced in his steady hands. The day held its breath as he drew the bowstring back, the tension palpable in the hushed air. With a moment's pause to ensure his aim was true, he released the arrow with a fluid motion, sending it soaring high and through the 12 o'clock eye; a bulls-eye shot that marked the perfect drop.

This was Meerann's cue, her signal to slow-spill and finish-up as colors churned, quivered, and vibrated, refracting like light through a prism. The archer's precise shot not only initiated the visual symphony but also symbolized the seamless harmony between human intent and the natural flow of time.

With each methodical turn of Meerann's churn, the shadows lightened, brightening the surrounding air--and each time it turned, a new tone was born.

The archer, satisfied with his flawless execution, watched intently from below. His role was more than that of a mere timekeeper; he was a crucial conductor in the orchestration of light and color that unfolded above. This midday ritual, marked daily by his arrow, bridged the gap between the earth and the sky, between the tangible and the ethereal, crafting a canvas where Meerann's magic could dance freely in the broad daylight.