One afternoon while walking along, minding our own business, something registered in my peripheral vision. Willa and I stopped. Looked. And what do you suppose we saw?
Much to our surprise and delight, hidden in a hedgerow we saw a sun-dappled faerie village. And while we haven’t spotted any of its occupants—yet!—I’m confident that with a little patience, one of these up-and-coming dusks we will.
This village brought to mind the gnomes my mom used to have. No more than ring-finger height—including their pointy red hats—you’d turn around in the kitchen and find a rosy-cheeked fellow peeking at you from behind a cookbook; or look over your shoulder in the living room and see the beard and belly of one who hasn’t fully pulled himself behind a collectable on mom’s display hutch.
Last year at this time we had a house full of guests, among them an elementary-school aged girl. Helping in the kitchen—apron clad—she was fascinated with our faerie whisk. Busy with the tasks at hand, “Are there really such things as faeries?” she asked in wide-eyed fascination.
Carefully sprinkling colored sugar and a wee bit of pixie dust on the cookie tops, I smiled at her thinking, “Who am I to deny their existence, especially at this magical time of year?”
Rather than the Americanized spelling fairy, I prefer the Gaelic spelling faerie, meaning from the realm of fae—those who know. And yes, there’s a difference between faeries, sprites, and pixies:
Faeries are woodland dwellers.
Sprites live near water.
Pixies—highly mischievous!—oversee moorlands, underground dwellings, and stone circles.