I spent some time this morning
creating the beginnings of a fairy village
in the front garden
of a friend’s little girl
who liked to come and visit my garden
when she got home
she discovered the surprise
saw the fairies had moved in
right in her very own front yard
and gave it her full endorsement
“the whole point of life was you couldn’t ever be sure what would happen next.
sometimes what happened was good, sometimes not,
but there were always surprises.”
― veronica henry, author
“Frost grows on the window glass,
forming whorl patterns of lovely translucent geometry.
Breathe on the glass, and you give frost more ammunition.
Now it can build castles and cities and whole ice continents with your breath’s vapor.
In a few blinks you can almost see the winter fairies moving in . . .
But first, you hear the crackle of their wings.”
― vera nazarian, the perpetual calendar of inspiration
how lucky that a local fairy
stopped by our classroom
to visit our fairy house
she must have heard….
“it is frightfully difficult to know much about the fairies,
and almost the only thing for certain
is that there are fairies wherever there are children.”
-j.m. barrie – peter pan in kensington gardens
found the fairy woods and troll hollow
tucked away in the middle of the trees
when your eyes are open
there is always so much to discover.
“we dance round in a ring and suppose,
but the secret sits in the middle and knows.”
long after new years eve has passed
with their village nearly covered
in a frozen white blanket
the fairies leave behind signs
of a magnificent celebration.
“the fairies break their dances
and leave the printed lawn.”
rows and rows of flowering kale and cabbages
all come together
to create a beautiful, tiny fairy forest.
“a forest is not a wilderness,
but a community of souls who speak to one another on the wind.”
― anthony t. hincks
oakland county farmer’s market, pontiac, michigan, usa
’twas fairy day at the artisan’s market
and soon they came around
lots of them of ev’ry kind
and treasures to be found.
“the fairy poet takes a sheet o
f moonbeam, silver white;
his ink is dew from daisies sweet,
his pen a point of light.