"Pale birch-girls were tossing their heads, willow-women pushed back their hair from their brooding faces to gaze on Aslan, the queenly beeches stood still and adored him, shaggy oak-men, lean and melancholy elms, shock-headed hollies (dark themselves, but their wives all bright with berries) and gay rowans, all bowed and rose again, shouting, 'Aslan, Aslan!' in their various husky or creaking or wave-like voices."
- C.S. Lewis
Of all magical creatures, I've always wanted to be a Dryad. To wear living willow fronds for a gown and cherry blossoms as a breezy cloak, with a leafy crown and jewelry made of raindrops. I'll be over here channeling Spring and imagining myself adorned in foliage if you need me.