Birth to three months
My first Halloween
Three to six months
My first Christmas
Six months to one year
Writings about me
The Terrora Trail
Follow closely, little one, and pay attention.
The trail ahead leads to an open field.
You'll see tempting ridges beyond, capped by a rich blue sky.
The sun on your back will feel warm and good,
And birdsong will be pleasing to your ears.
But wait, little one.
The same warm sun dries the earth,
Making it hard beneath your feet.
Too much sun on your back
Will steal your strength and dull your senses.
The harsh voice of the crow signals danger,
And danger can come quickly there in the open field.
Danger is never far away.
Now, little one, hurry, back into the woods.
The trail is softer here,
Kept moist and fresh by the shade of the trees.
Sounds, too, are softer,
And the song of the creek tumbling over the rocks
Is just as pleasing as that of the birds in the meadow.
Here, the spots on your coat blend with the dappled shadows.
Stay here with me, little one, until you've grown stronger.