Inspiration Photo #1
Several months ago, my daughter and I stopped into a nearby store. I was on the hunt for something in particular that I could not find. However, on that jaunt, we found something magical that spoke to the two of us: fairy garden items.
We had not been in search of such items, but the mere fact that we happened upon them meant something to us both. We tend to enjoy stories of fantasy involving fairies, witches, wizards, and pirates (such as gorgeous Captain Hook in “Once Upon A Time.”) We love the mystical idea of fairies, just as some believe they have angels watching over them. When we saw the elements of the fairy garden, we were mesmerized and decided that once we cleared out the back patch in our yard that we would begin to build our own magical little fairy garden. We are set to start on it this weekend.
On Pinterest and online, you can find lots of items to start your fairy garden. Our first step will be to visit the store again and select our first pieces. This will be a project that unfolds over time, but the loveliness of it is that we will be doing it together. Sometimes I look at my 11-year-old and can’t believe how quickly she has grown…that in a few years, she’ll be in high school and then off to college. I want her to remember these special times we have together and build something we both look at fondly.
Inspiration photo #2.
Years ago, when my children were very little, I began a short story about fairies. I didn’t get very far, but I did save the beginning of the story, and maybe someday, I’ll return to it.
After the fairy garden grows.
Inspiration photo #3.
THE STORY OF ESMERALDA
My mother used to tell me there were fairies that lived in our house and occupied our wood. She told me there were four of them and that the leader of all the fairies in the land was Esmeralda. She used to tell me this story when I was very young, a little girl, and I would be fascinated with the idea of these fairies. I used to grab my flashlight and head into the woods adjacent to my house to see the fairies floating in the night sky. I must have gone into the woods a hundred times and only once did I see anything that somewhat resembled a gathering of fairies.
On my tenth birthday, my mother bought me a fairy necklace. It was gold, and the fairy wings were on the large side. It didn’t look like what I thought a fairy would truly look like. I had a very distinct image in my mind of Esmeralda’s physical characteristics…she was dainty, a brunette, crisp blue eyes, with pink wings and a glistening gold wand of magic. Fairies were meant to protect you from danger. It was what my mother taught me and it was what I had grown to know.
On my twelfth birthday, I came across a book on my desk in my room. The book was called “The Fairy Rules,” and it was written in a very strange language. I looked through it and couldn’t understand any of it. I showed it to my mother; she was shocked to see it in my hands. She asked me where I got it and I told her it magically appeared on my desk. She said that’s what she was afraid of.
When I fell asleep that night, I dreamt of what was in the book. I dreamt I could understand the words and all of the rules that guide fairies to everlasting life. I dreamt I learned how to use the magic powers fairies possessed and when not to use the powers. I dreamt I learned how to fly and become small, to float through the air and use my wings, and I learned what the fairy diet was…lots of greens and flowers. When I woke up in the morning, the book had vanished from my desk, and in its place, all that remained was a pile of sparkling dust.
When I was fifteen, I felt something strange on my body when I showered. On my back, reaching down from my rib cage, I felt two lines and they itched. They itched like crazy. I showed them to my mother. She told me it was a rash and that it would go away. I wasn’t sure if I believed her, because her faced seemed to be one filled with worry. She also forbade me to go into the woods. She told me I had to wait until I was seventeen for that.
At midnight, on the night of my seventeenth birthday, my mother took me into the woods. There were no flashlights this time. This time it was just us. It was then that I learned my mother’s real name was Esmeralda.
As you have probably never read a true account of fairy life and have only read the stories of Tinkerbell, you will have the chance now. My name is Agatha Ann, and this is the story of my life as a fairy.
