This is issue #8 of The Mystic Heroine Guide to Life, Love, and Everything, an ezine designed for you to share with your daughters and grand-daughters.

        Free, and delivered to your email box every two weeks, it's filled with stories and tips on how to be bright and beautiful, have high self-esteem and good values - with a cast of characters taken from the pages of Mystic Heroine Adventures.

I hope you enjoy this art-full new issue! -Marilyn Churchill

Hi! My name is Cecile, and I'm the Princess of Belamor.
Recently, I stopped in the sewing room for a pair of scissors and noticed, for the first time, a small painting that hung on the wall. It was a picture of sheep in a misty green meadow. Just looking at it made me feel peaceful!

        "Isn't it beautiful, Princess?" Gwynn said as she entered the room, her arms full of clothes to be mended. "The artist, Sophie, is a good friend of mine," she said with pride.
        "Really? Oh, I would love to meet her!" I said.

        Gwynn said she would make the arrangements, and the following week we took my carriage on a long drive to a neighboring village to visit the artist in her studio.
        When I entered through her courtyard gate, the perfume of flowers made me stop and take a deep breath. Climbing pink roses completely covered the front of Sophie's little cottage, except for the door and the windows, which were all opened wide to the bright, sunny day. The cobblestone courtyard was lined with pots filled with cascades of colorful flowers. "She paints with flowers too," Gwynn said with a smile. Wide-eyed, I simply nodded.

      Sophie appeared at the cottage door and greeted us with a big smile. "It's an honor to meet you, Princess," she said, dropping a deep curtsy. "Come in! Come in!"
        She was short and plump, with sparkling brown eyes, and a halo of gray curls peeking out from a cap with blue ribbons. Although I could see she had dressed up for the occasion, I noticed a smudge of green paint on her skirt.
         She chatted non-stop as we followed her into the house. She introduced, Pete, her parrot, who was sitting on top of his cage and Rags, her calico cat, who quickly slunk behind the slip-covered chair.

       The main room in her cottage was both kitchen and sitting room. I could tell by the array of cookie jars on the counter, the assortment of teapots on the shelf, and the curios that covered every other surface, that the artist was a collector as well.

        "You have many beautiful things," I said, looking around with appreciation.
       "Oh, you haven't seen half of it yet," Gwynn interjected. She pointed to a collection of porcelain boxes and said, "Open one!" Sophie smiled and nodded. Carefully, I opened the oval lid of a delicate box that was painted with wreaths of violets. Inside was a smaller box; this one made of sandalwood, carved like lace and smelling like incense. At Gwynn's prompting, I opened the sandlewood box. Inside was an unusual silver button shaped like a turtle.

        "You might say, it's a box turtle!" Sophie laughed. "It's an artist's job to notice little things and to find new ways to see them."
         We spent a happy hour looking through her treasures. And the longer I looked, the more I found. But it was almost teatime and I was getting hungry. I couldn't help but wonder what was hidden inside the cookie jars.
         "We'll have tea later," Sophie said, as if reading my mind. "But first I'll show you my studio."