There be fairies!

Do ye believe?

I hope you’re in the mood for whimsy, my friends. Because that’s our subject today. Caprice. Magic. Flights of fancy. Tiny beings in the woods who dance on moonlit nights.

We all know there are plenty of awful things going on in our world. Some of them close to home, some of them on the other side of the Earth. Most of us are trying to figure out how to stay steady and not spin off into despair. It’s such a balancing act, isn’t it? We swerve from fear to hope and back to fear. With quivering hearts and worried minds, we search for what’s still good in our lives.

I’m certainly not suggesting that we ignore the bad stuff. It needs our attention and our love. What I am suggesting—at least for today, at least for the time it takes you to read this post—is that we take a pause to refresh our souls and lighten our hearts. I think that’s how we will keep going, and keep trying to make this world a better place.

So … without further ado … let’s talk about fairies!

We’ve all found curious places in the natural world—a hollow in a tree trunk, a circular clearing in a glade —and we’ve wondered. Is this a fairy’s home? Is this where they dance in the shades of night, under a full moon? Supposedly those mysterious “fairy rings” of mushrooms are where the wee folk sit in congress. A fairy summit.

As creatures who live underground and emerge at night to care for their woodland neighbors, fairies are a beloved part of folklore in many parts of Europe. “Faeries,” as they’re often known, can be capricious. They like to help by sprinkling their magic around, but they also delight in playing tricks on us or manipulating the weather and other natural elements.

Way back in the 1980s, when I was working at The Mother Earth News, we featured articles about Findhorn, the intentional, earth-based community in Scotland where humans and fairies lived in close companionship and the cabbages in their garden grew as big as basketballs—presumably thanks to the fairies’ intervention. Half a century later, Findhorn is still around so I guess the fairy population there is thriving.

Now let me tell you about the fairy ring my husband and I discovered on our land. It’s a perfectly round clearing in the forest, tucked next to a mountain stream that sings sweet songs. The soil inside this ring is hard-packed, mostly bare, with a light dusting of moss. It’s as if it has been stamped clean by fairy feet. There must have been many midnight revels at this spot.

And here’s the piece de resistance: The fairy ring is encircled by ferns. Christmas ferns, which are evergreen. They grow wild all over our woods but here, in this magic spot, they’ve arranged themselves in a nice protective circle. (Or perhaps an industrious team of wee folk planted the ferns in this configuration? Hmmm?)

I think you’ll understand why we call this spot “the fairy fern circle.”

As you can see, we arranged some stump seats in the fairy fern circle. We also installed a “PEACE” stone, to let the fairies know we welcome them here. (Hopefully they can read English.) During our daily walks, we usually pause at this spot for a short sit and a listen to the creek bubbling past.

I figure the fairies might also use the stumps during their moonlit gatherings. I can picture tiny, jubilant figures vaulting themselves off a stump onto the ground, one after another, with great whoops of joy.

For months now, we’ve been enjoying the fairy fern circle. Every time we visit, it feels like entering a place of enchantment.

Then something even more magical happened. On Mother’s Day, my daughter Lia gave me a gift. Inside a little box, encased in bubble wrap, were six ceramic fairies—each no bigger than your pinkie. They’re exquisite, with wings, bare feet, and angelic smiles. Each one is in a different pose and wearing a different color dress.

“I thought they might go well in your fairy fern circle,” Lia wrote on the card. My daughter knows me well.

I probably don’t need to tell you how much fun I had placing these precious little beings in their new home. (Of course they were going to the fairy fern circle!)

I tucked several of them in among the ferns. Another one took up residence beside the PEACE stone. One wanted to sit on a log. I hid each one just enough that they’d feel safe, and also make it a treasure hunt for anyone walking our trail who wants to try to find the shy fairies.

One day the peace stone fairy had a visitor:

This one seems ready to dance:

And here’s the contemplative one of the group:

Each time we walk the trail and pause for our sit in the fern circle, I check on the fairies. Of course, they’ve never moved. Clever little things! After their nighttime revels, each one goes back to the exact same spot where I placed her and takes up the exact same pose. It’s so easy to fool humans.

But I’m on to them. And I might just tiptoe down there during the next full moon. Surely I’d be welcomed at their party, don’t you think?

I want to leave you with my favorite poetic tribute to fairies. (There are so many! It seems fairies have been inspiring poets for ages.) This one was written by Thomas Ravenscroft, a seventeenth-century composer and musician in England. He wrote a lot of sad ballads, but this one is fairly bursting with glee … just like the fairies.

By the Moon

By the moone we sport and play,

With the night begins our day:

As we daunce the deaw doth fall,

Trip it little urchins all:

Lightly as the little Bee,

Two by two, and three by three:

And about go we, and about go wee.

I do come about the coppes,

Leaping upon the flower toppes:

Then I get upon a flie,

Shee carried me above the skie:

And trip and goe.

When a deaw drop falleth downe,

And doth light upon my crowne,

Then I shake my head and skip,

And about I trip.

Two by two, and three by three:

And about go we, and about go wee.