Fox Mother

Sunshine rising after a new year’s eve of rain and wind. This is the year I will reclaim my voice and my art as expressed with words and writing. It feels time. I showed myself I could draw every day for 31 days with Inktober 2019, and now I want back the writing too, and really weave art and magic into the center of my world as we move into a new phase, a new decade.

I also want to continue to weave storytelling and fairy tale and the imaginal realms back into my life.


On a guided journey I met the Fox-Mother, she appeared initially as an image of fox-kits curled up in a warm den, bright orange fur and curled tails, a sensation of warmth and earth and safety together, around which the Mother protected and nuzzled. She has a human form too, something like a gypsy-woman meets hippy, slender but sensual, human and fox-form mixed together, her hair is long and smells like cinnamon, her eyes are bright blue or yellow-gold. She has a smile that is both warm and slight trickster smirk at the edges; but you know with her keen awareness and canny nature she will keep you both safe and free. Her feet are paws of black velvet and bare human toes with bangles and beads. Her skirts are layered with red, earth colours, fabric that is woven from natural thread. Hooped gold earrings that reflect the sun, bright white teeth are sharp. I’m not sure what she wears on her top – it feels fuzzy right now, but I see all kinds of gloves, arm warmers, fingerless lacey things and perhaps sometimes rings.

I see her now sitting on a river-rock, dangling her feet into flowing forest stream, creating ripples and patterns that mix with the current. There is bright sunshine spring green forest behind her, golden specks of light in the air. She is humming or singing.

Fox Mother, wild lady, who are you?

” I am she who will always be free, I am the riddle and rhyme. I love to laugh, I love my scarf and I love to speak in threes”

I don’t think I can keep up with the rhyming prose…
” That’s ok but nobody knows…” She laughs like silver bells, there is something slighty fae about her nature

” Why are you a Mother?”

“Wrong question”

“Are you here to help me?”

mother-fox-and-her-kits-steve-dunsfordI am here to remind you…” She is holding a deer-mouse in her hand by the tail, swinging it playfully a few times and then setting it down gently on the rocks. Strangely it does not run, but sits and washes itself, head and tail and ears and nose. “If you mean what you say, you can not forget or mislay the magics that you have initiated and started – the art and the journey takes dedication and care to nurture, as much as the warm fox-kits, as much as a child. It is not a casual as and when affair….” She looks at me straight, her eyes edged with dark and feral black, her face both wild fox and woman..”Do NOT mistake this as work, as chore, as effort. The difference is whether you approach with love or duty-obligation. These fox-kits are like your art, magic, projects, waiting to be born and nurtured into wild exuberant existance. Nourishing growth remember? They need to be kept hidden, protected in red fur and warm nuzzles, safe in the forest den, not pushed our prematurely into the cold. And like the fox-kits, you can have more than one at each time. ”

She feels somehow like the feminine mother that is also the artist, the creatrix, the transforming alchemist. There is a message in here about new ways to have art-children that can thrive into the world. She is free because she is not chained by expectation or outcome; more just nourishing, feeding, loving the little fox pups as they grown into themselves…?

“Some of them will die.” she says matter of factly “It is the way of the world” she looks at her fingers/claws, both hands and soft paws that she cleans and brushes her ears with. “You do not know which ones, or even when. Even when some look sickly, don’t abandon, don’t push, don’t blame. Some may be hunted by predators, or shot down – it is not all under your control. It is not a job for the mind to plan out endless protections that become constricting and suffocate. Let there be a lightness, ease, love, and most of all warmth and joy each time you come to your art, whether writing, drawing, other possibilities. Do not forget to laugh my dear deer-mouse!”

Deer mouse is my ‘animal name’ from the Thriving Roots adventure I started in 2019 – before the next episode I need to draw, learn about and connect the magic of that creature. The Fox Mother has reminded me and perhaps this will be some of my art for tomorrow…



"There's nothing you can do that's more important than being fulfilled. You become a sign, you become a signal, transparent to transcendence; in this way, you will find, live, and become a realization of your own personal myth." – Joseph Campbell

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