Into the Mystic — Serendipity

‎ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒉, 𝒂 𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝑪𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒍𝒇 September keeps a crimson hour for celebration, and the seventh arrives bearing the birthday of Cherish Woolf in all its romantic finery. A little festivity is hereby given its place upon the day, with portraits adorned and displays lent to the occasion as tokens of fond regard. Let each appearance add another thread to the gathering, until this birthday becomes a tapestry of shared affection, quietly cherished, ceremoniously kept, and made all the lovelier by those who choose to partake. Click the link to use the twibbon. And with due encomium, a fond acknowledgment to @trinketslab, whose artistry has furnished this celebration with its crimson vestment. Do join the observance and let the seventh be dressed in a little more affection, a little more revelry, and all the romantic pageantry befitting Cherish Woolf’s birthday. With every fond benison, Those held dearest by Cherish Woolf ⟢ ‎

Devora as drop dead because you're drop dead gorgeous

‎ ✦ A Birthday Wrought in Meadowlight ✦ The seventh of September unfurls with the air of a well-thumbed storybook, its pages steeped in meadowed verdancy, itinerant cloudlets, and sylvan caprice. Within this pastoral little chapter, Gracie Abrams turns twenty-seven, giving the day its sweetest pretext for revelry. Lend a portrait to the occasion and let it take its place amongst the wildflowers, looking-glass and wayfaring skies; each appearance becoming a small felicity along the day’s meandering pilgrimage. What begins as a simple greeting soon gathers the charm of a shared fête, as though the whole countryside had conspired to make a birthday of its own. Should the fitting prove a troublesome little contrivance, @thedeerestbot shall gladly lend a hand and set the portrait properly in place. A fond encomium to @trinketslab as well, whose handiwork has given this pastoral reverie its prettiest vesture. Then come, wanderer, and partake in the seventh: bring a little mirth, a little posy of affection, and let the day drift skyward with Gracie’s twenty-seventh, light as a paper balloon, merry as a meadow breeze, and whimsical as anything found beyond the looking-glass. With wishes gathered from the wildflower path, Isobel Meadows. ‎