Welcome, wanderer.
The meadow gate stands open wide,
come rest your feet,
come step inside.
If dreams still linger, soft and true,
there is a place
prepared for you.
Beneath the oak where shadows keep,
low embers breathe
and never sleep;
the kettle whispers, slow and low,
in half-known words
you almost know.
Here you will find, with gentle art,
a cup of tea
to warm the heart,
a pocket full of drifting dreams,
a tale or two,
not what they seem,
and one small riddle, calm and kind,
that waits for time,
not hurried mind.
And so it starts,
as stories do.
One brave step, softly through,
with a wanderer like you.
🌙✨

Some doors open when called.
Some paths wait for a step.
This is the beginning.

Welcome wanderer!
The meadow’s gate stands slightly open.
If you’re ready to dream, then welcome in.
You are here.

Some paths appear only when they are named.
Some stories wake when spoken aloud.
This tale opens because it must be told.
And here, the story begins.

Gathered from meadows, hillsides, and forgotten paths, flowers that bloom quietly when their season comes.
Some are hard to find, appearing only to vanish. Others show up on every walk, unhurried.

Gently gathered things find their place with care.
They wait in silence, and speak in light and shadow.
A little order, a little play…
And a touch of vanitas, so time is not forgotten.

Oils warm,
colors gather,
flowers are pressed,
time slows.
Here, nothing is rushed.
Everything knows its own time.

Pages that unfold softly through the seasons.
Each one moves with the rhythm of time, most often carrying a photograph, sometimes a brief note.
A seasonal journal that invites you
to slow down,
to spare a little time,
and to notice. 🌙✨

A pinch of fairytale,
a couple of potatoes,
hot tea,
and a few crumbs left over from Bilbo’s adventures.
Not exactly a meal,
more like a second breakfast in disguise,
a sweet little excuse
to stay a bit longer. :))

Small things gathered over time.
A cabinet of curiosities
kept by a nature enthusiast and quiet collector.
Here, some pieces are examined,
some are labeled,
and all find their place.

Occasional notes.
New paths, small reminders,
news carried from the meadow.
It never rushes.
It waits for the right moment.

Handmade pieces,
small-batch works.
All kinds of things,
left to mature with time.
Nothing here is rushed.
From time to time,
this shop opens by itself,
under the influence of an old spell.

Every path begins with a question.
Between the lines, quiet thoughts and playful secrets unfold,
each one inviting a new small journey.
Mind your steps!
Walk gently here.
Let no sleepy stone trip your foot,
nor forgotten letters fall upon your head.
This meadow is still growing.
Its song is not finished yet. 🌱
Before you begin reading these pages,
find a comfortable corner.
Make yourself a cup of tea or coffee,
and step into the adventure that way.
Words may change places from time to time.
This is normal.
It is the wind at play,
language turning itself into a tale.
It quietly wanders through the sentences,
shuffling them for a while,
then gently sets everything back in place.
If you linger here,
you may notice a faint smile,
a distant gaze,
and the rise of poetic thoughts.
These pages can be read on small screens as well.
But the meadows grow narrower,
the letters smaller,
and some things become harder to see.
And remember,
no one here ever promised
that stories would be short
or that paths would be easy to find.
So please,
do not complain. :))
The Meadow Map works like a compass.
Let it gently guide you.
Wander without a map,
linger,
turn back when you wish.
If you lose your way,
the home page is always waiting for you.
If you cannot find what you are looking for,
make yourself a cup of tea
and try again.
The answer may drift upward,
carried softly
in the curling steam.
Please do not read the stories out loud.
If the neighbors hear,
who knows what they might think. :)))
These pages are best read at night,
during the quiet hours,
just before sleep.
Each page hides a detail.
A word,
a trace,
sometimes even an unexpected playlist.
The meadow sings in two languages:
Turkish and English.
Sometimes, Elvish as well. 🌙✨
Using multiple languages may cause
a little confusion from time to time.
But any such slips are gently corrected
as soon as they are noticed.
Three apples fell from the sky.
One to truth,
one to dreams,
and one to a place unseen on any map,
but open to those who know the old paths.
Meadow Wanderer is sometimes a narrator,
sometimes a walking shadow,
and sometimes nothing more
than a figure from a tale.
In this meadow,
some of what is told has been lived,
some has been dreamed,
and some has become what it was told to be.
Truth and imagination
often walk the same path.
You are free to ask
where they part ways.
Finding the answer
belongs to the reader.
Nai i vendë lúmë siluva. ✨
May what is hidden reveal itself in its own time.
Time does not rush here.
Slow down.
Breathe.
And join the story.
✧ These pages are dedicated to all minds bright with the colors of neurodiversity.
Meadow Wanderer
Dikili, İzmir, Türkiye
© 2023–2026 Meadow Wanderer
ALL TEXTS AND ARTWORK ARE PROTECTED. TÜM HAKLARI SAKLIDIR.
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