Celtic and Faerie Lore
Two doll-sized faerie men took shelter from the freezing wind beneath a bush. As the wind whipped at the bush’s branches above them, one faerie man murmured to his friend, “Particular weather we are having.”
His companion nodded. “It would be no surprise to me if we had a blizzard in July or August.”
Both men shook their heads before vanishing to a warmer place.
Outside my covered front porch, the wind rustles bud-tipped tree branches. Their thin twigs form secret runes, displayed openly for anyone to see. The wind chime overhead plays tinkling music as it dances with the wind.
A passing small faerie man, about 8 inches tall, tips his narrow-brimmed pointed hat to me, wishing me a good afternoon. We try to exchange a few pleasant words, but a car roars past, startling us from our tentative communication. The small faerie man’s shy wife was just becoming visible beside him, but upon hearing the sound of the car’s grinding tires on the asphalt, they both disappear. Though our connection has been abruptly broken, I still feel their presence out there, somewhere in my front yard.
With the car long gone, the birds carry on with their own musical conversation.
Winter’s chill, felt most sharply in the darkness of night, reminds us of her presence upon the land. Yet with the coming of day, the sun shines in the blue sky. Birds chirp liquid songs from within trees and bushes. Faerie Folk softly sing songs or hum to themselves as they go about their gardening business. Greeting one another, they speak of flowers, vegetables and planting, as Spring’s green mantel finally spreads softly across the land.
Spring has come. Traveling through the winter lands of snow and ice, it has come. By day, birds sing love songs from budded tree limbs. By night, peepers peep out their romantic intentions. Skeletal tree branches rejoice as their buds unfold into robes of leaves, covering their bare-limbed nakedness. Above in the blue sky, cloud ships unfurl their billowing sails as they swiftly fly across the sky, causing patterns of light and shadow to flow over the land.
Below the sky, I sit, watching light and shadow swirl over my yard to the hill above. The gentle spring wind murmurs within my ear, and, though I may feel separate within myself, in truth I am very much a part of everything happening around me.
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