Fairy Godmother

Sighing, the Faery woman remarked, “It does indeed break our hearts that today’s children can no longer see us as did the children of the past.  Did you know that, in the old days, many of the children’s invisible playmates were Faerie Folk?  Many were the days when the mothers and fathers were much too busy to pay any attention to their children.  It was we Faeries who tried to keep the children entertained, holding their loneliness at bay.  We acted as a sort of invisible nanny to them.”

The Faery woman paused, gathering her thoughts, “And I cannot, for the life of me, remember when the last time was when either I or any other of my kin were asked to welcome the birth of a child.  You know, in our role as Faerie Godmothers, we always bring three Faerie blessings to welcome a child to their new life on Mother Earth.  People once knew the old tradition – that it was always in their newborn’s best interest to invite three Faerie Godmothers to a new baby’s birth celebration.  This meant the child would receive nine wishes or blessings, which is always very helpful for a child starting out in life.”

The Faery woman grew silent as we watched the rain-swollen stream with its sun sparkling waters rush past us.  With a note of sadness in her voice, she continued, “Like the tumbling waters of this stream, nothing stays the same, but seems to pass us on by.”  Brightening once again, she smiled and added, “But who knows, perhaps one day mothers and fathers will remember the old tradition again and ask us Faerie Godmothers to bless their children.  We can only hope, for we do love blessing the little ones.”

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Faeries in the Wind

A small faery man laughingly greets me as I step outside my back door, “I see the house cabbage has decided to step out to face the sun.”

“It’s a little chilly outside, with the wind,” I weakly point out, trying to defend myself.

The faery man chuckles, “This wind is merely a babe compared to the winds coming later this winter.  While you tall folk brave the cold huddled inside your warm, cozy homes, we faerie folk will be outside in the worst of it – skating on the slippery ice, skipping lightly across the mounds of snow, holding our arms out trying to catch the freezing wind, and twirling round and round beneath the blizzard of falling snow.  We love to be outside in all kinds of weather.  Warm or cold, it does not matter to us!”

“You do spend some time indoors, don’t you?”

The faery man smiles.  “Of course we do, my silly friend.  ‘Tis grand to sit in front of a blazing hearth fire with your loved ones and a hot cup of chocolate, or something stronger, in your hand.”

With a smile, he gazes down at the shimmering stream journeying past at the bottom of our hill.  He gives me a friendly wave, “Still, we faeries do love all kinds of weather,” he calls back to me, as he wanders off to catch the wind.

Tree Spirits

Only once you have gained a tree spirit’s trust will it be possible to see her or his face hidden within the bark.  Consider it a great blessing, for very few trees will show their face to a human.

Only when a tree trusts you deep within its spirit will the tree bare its vulnerable face to you.  By showing you its face, the tree spirit is telling you that it trusts you and considers you to be a possible friend.  If you are blessed enough to see the face of a tree smiling at you, smile back, and know you have found a friend.

Autumn Sleep

Beneath a rainy gray sky, the bright, rich Autumn colors of Mother Earth shimmer with their own inner Faerie light.  Within the damp grayness, a Maple tree bemoans the loss of even more golden leaves from her already thinning canopy.  With each gentle breeze, more of her trembling leaves are plucked from her branches to fall gently down to the carpet of gold surrounding her glistening trunk below.

A sudden strong gust of wind lifts the golden leaves into the air, forming a circle dance of wind and leaf.  For a moment, the swirling leaves become a golden cloak for an invisible Faerie queen before falling back down on the sparkling green grass.  The sighing breeze sings a lullaby to the sorrowful Maple tree.  Slowly, she drifts off to sleep, dreaming of Spring and newly budding leaves.