Sunday, 20 January 2008
Do you Believe in Fairies?
I have long carried on a love affair with small whimsical beings called Fairies. As a child I would devour and read any book about them that I could find, most of them having been written by Enid Blyton. I truly believed that fairies hid underneath every dry leaf and every flower in our back garden and was always on the look out for the tell tale signs of their having been around. They lived in a mysterious world of enchantment that, as humans, we were only allowed an occasional furtive glimpse into. The sight of a fairy ring of toadstools on the mossy floor of a forest has always fueled my deepest imaginations, and indeed if you were to look across the rolling fields behind our cottage on a warm summer's day the air will be filled with little fairy wings dancing in the soft breeze. Some would say seed pods on their airborned journey, but I say differently.
As a lover of Fairies, my home is full of them. They peek out at every corner . . . especially when you least expect them. There are wood nymphs, and tiny beings with feathery whispy wings tucked in every nook and cranny. There is even one peeking out of a glass bubble which hangs over my kitchen sink. She watches me as I wash the dishes and somehow the chore seems easier to manage . . . Some are very magical looking, others are somewhat mystical, and still yet others are a bit dangerous looking. All are beautiful.
I was shopping the other day and discovered yet something else which captured my fancy. A small tin amongst others, but still this one caught my eye . . .
How can one fail to be entranced by a tin with the tell tale words "Fairy Dust" whispering across it's pink,and gold splattered lid.
A tiny, tiny princess
came to earth one day,
And if one listens closely,
we can hear her say,
A morning star in the East
still rises, still
today,The stillness touched
Amidst the breaking
of the waves.
I am in love at first glance. I cannot wait to get it home and see what magic resides inside . . .
As I open the lid a beautiful smell wafts up to my nostrils. It is at once magical and mysterious. It smells like cotton candy and babies . . . and the special way my mother used to smell when she was all dressed up on a Saturday night before going to a dance with my father. It is comforting and ethereal and whimsical. Look . . . there are lovely pink rocks peeking up at you from it's melted glassine surface. Only fairies can have pink rocks like that. It must be true . . .
Once lit, it's perfumed magic weaves it's spell around me and I am in another world. A world where it's ok to dream, and mystery abounds . . . where apple trees are full of blossom all year round and nature rings out with it's supernatural powers of seduction, in a world which parallels our own. If we but look to find it, we shall . . .
I am filled with the need to bake a cake, a fairy cake, sweet and pretty, and covered in speckles of pink fairy dust. Afterwards I shall sit in my chair, all in darkness save the soft light of my fairy candle, it's mystical fragrance surrounding me. I shall eat it and dream of magical kingdoms and hidden worlds . . .