Meadow Morn Island Blue Fabric by the Yard

A wooded glade in the forest, the dappled light amongst the blueberries and sky-high pines, the crash of waves upon a rocky shore that opens onto a postcard-perfect cove. The butterflies begin their annual migration, a kaleidoscope of color and whismy, of fantasy and dreams come true. “Wings of desire,” she coos and he turns, sunlight flashing as afternoon slowly turns to dusk.

Formerly known as Now Voyager.