Читать книгу Hairy, Scary, but Mostly Merry Fairies! - Renee Simmons Raney - Страница 10

1

First Sighting

The clouds above me were white shifting shapes moving slowly across the spring sky. The calico patchwork quilt underneath me was warm from the sun. I lay stretched on my back. My best friend, Nosy, the little black dog, lay beside me like a guardian. I felt safe, loved, and completely content.

In the distance I could hear the electric milking machine in Granddad’s dairy barn—chicka-chug, chicka-chug, chicka-chug—as it pulled the milk from our beautiful Holstein cows and piped it into the ice-cold milk tanks. Every now and then Granddad would sing along with the radio. His voice was a little off-key, but so full of “happy” that it made me smile.

Nearer to my nest, I could hear the buzzing of honeybees as they bumbled from blossom to blossom collecting pollen. I loved to watch the b*ees. They seemed so focused on their task that I’m sure they weren’t aware of a big world chaotically chicka-chugging around them.

My world was bigger than the bees’ but small enough that I felt like the princess of a perfectly adorable kingdom. The entire farm ranged over a hundred acres—the “Hundred Acre Wood” we called it, after Winnie-the-Pooh. But the core of my world was the ten acres surrounding Nonnie and Granddad’s farm cottage. I knew every nook and cranny. I was friends with every growing thing, every creeping thing, every crawling thing, and especially the birds and bugs. I had an innate sense that the Creator had endowed me with a duty and responsibility to take care of these little creatures.

A large green dragonfly hovered over my quilt. He seemed to nod his head as if to acknowledge my presence. I waved a hand at him in greeting and he zipped away.

The bees were buzzing quite loudly and there was birdsong, but along with those sounds was a new one, a kind of buzz-hum, almost like a bumblebee humming rather than buzzing. I sat up on the quilt. Nosy’s ears perked up as she looked toward the odd noise. It seemed to be coming from the base of the old white oak tree that grew in the sparse Breezy Woods next to my meadow. I tippy-tiptoed toward the tree, taking my time and moving silently as Daddy had taught me: “Cherokee walk heel to toe when they move through the wood . . . slowly . . . to make no noise.” Nosy followed discreetly behind.

I stood statue-still, becoming part of the wood, as my eyes and mind registered what was making the sound. There, at the twisted above-ground roots of the oak tree, was— I knew it!! I knew they were real even though I’d never seen one. I’d found their footprints and other evidence. I’d seen them out of the corner of my eyes, but here, in plain view, was a FAIRY!

He was standing with his back to me, his hands on his hips with elbows out as if he were challenging the tree. The iridescent wings on his back were folded downward like those of a resting damselfly. He was dressed in brown except for a tiny orange hat. As I watched, he gathered three acorn caps (which to him was a full armload) and spread his wings. With a hummmm, he flew off toward the field.

I walked to the base of the tree for a closer look. I realized a chipmunk was hiding in a little knothole next to a root. He was pushing out empty acorn caps from inside the tree. He hadn’t noticed me, so again I became part of the woods and watched.

The chipmunk disappeared inside the tree for a few seconds and then reappeared, pushing three acorn caps at a time out of the hole. Then he would carefully stack the caps on the edge of the gnarled old root and return inside to repeat the process.

I eased to my knees to blend in with the fragrant honeysuckle vines growing next to the oak. Nosy squatted next to me as we waited. We were close enough to see the expression of joy on the little chipmunk’s face as he peered toward the treetops. He looked as if he was expecting another visit. Sure enough, we heard the buzz-humm sound, faintly at first, then it grew louder. The same brown fairy zipped down from the sky and stood at the base of the tree. He pointed at the six acorn caps as if counting them, reached into the tiny pouch at his side, pulled out seeds of some sort, and laid them in front of the knothole. The chipmunk smiled at the fairy, put all the seeds in his furry “chipmunky” cheeks and went back inside the tree.

The fairy disappeared with three of the caps and then quickly returned for the other three. He buzzed a little too close to us on his last flight out and Nosy barked at him. He was so close that I saw a startled look on his beautiful little face as he realized he had an audience. He dropped one of the acorn caps in his haste to zigzag away from us.

I sat still for what seemed hours. I hoped he’d return for the dropped cap so that I might see him again. When it became apparent that he wasn’t coming back, I picked up the tiny object. What had appeared to be a regular acorn cap was actually a tiny work of art. Obviously, the chipmunk was friend or pet to another fairy who lived deep within the oak tree and manufactured acorn-cap fairy dishes. The little cap had been slightly reshaped so that when turned upside down it sat perfectly like a little bowl. Some dainty artist had carved clever patterns in the sides of the little bowl. Obviously, the brown fairy was trading seeds or grain for these little dishes.

I wanted to keep the little acorn cap, but I knew I hadn’t paid for it or earned it. So I put it back on the root where the fairy had picked up the other dishes. I heard the chipmunk fussing at me from inside the hole so I moved away quickly. I thought perhaps after Nosy and I left that the fairy would return and find his lost dish. Perhaps he’d understand that I wanted to be his friend.

I ran to the farm cottage and told Nonnie what I’d heard, seen, and done. I thought she’d laugh at me or just assume I was playing another of my imagination games. But she didn’t. She began to tell me stories of fairies she’d seen when she was a young girl. She said that not all people can see fairies. Nonnie was very happy that I could! She promised to teach me to build fairy houses and other wonderful things about these secretive little creatures.

The next morning, I went back to the old oak tree. The acorn-cap was gone and in its place was a tiny bouquet of “bluet” flowers tied with a tiny red string: a symbol of thanks from the fairy for not stealing the bowl. Nonnie said that I had taken the first step to making friends with the wee folk. I tucked the little bouquet in my wishing book along with my collection of pressed four-leaf clovers.

And as the seasons come and go,

here’s something you might like to know.

There are fairies everywhere:

under bushes, in the air,

playing games just like you play,

singing through their busy day.

So listen, touch, and look around

in the air and on the ground.

And if you watch all nature’s things,

you might just see a fairy’s wing.

— Author Unknown

It’s easy to believe in magic when you’re young. Anything you couldn’t explain was magic then. It didn’t matter if it was science or a fairy tale. Electricity and elves were both infinitely mysterious and equally possible—elves probably more so.

— Charles de Lint

Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.

— C. S. Lewis