The Woods

 ”Oats peas beans and barley grow, Oats peas beans and barley grow…” Jonathan sang softly under his breath as he wielded his hoe and weeded the vegetable garden. Peas and beans grew here, certainly, but no oats. Instead there were carrots and corn and tomatoes and cucumbers and five different kinds of peppers. The plants were tall and bountiful. The peas had been producing for weeks and the tomatoes were ripe and red. When he was done weeding, Jonathan would take the big woven basket and fill it will all sorts of good things for the kitchen.

As he weeded, Jonathan kept an eye on the area outside the fenced garden. He thought he saw something moving out there. There were always little creatures around, waiting for him to get done so they could try to get in. Cotton tailed rabbits, little ground squirrels, even deer hoped to come in and taste the bounty. A good secure fence that extended two feet under the ground and then six feet up helped stop some of the marauders. A few still managed to get in, but there was enough extra for that. And Jonathan had his own little system, too, because he enjoyed it. Each time he filled the basket, he put in twice as much as he needed. Then he dropped off half of it in the kitchen and took the other half with him as he took a long walk in the woods. He kept several different stations filled with garden goodies for the wild creatures to eat. They couldn’t eat their fill, of course, but then they would clean out the garden all by themselves if they could.

Weeding finished, and basket filled, Jonathan started off on his daily rounds. He put his share on the kitchen counter and pushed through the brush into the woods. When he was a short way in, he heard something crashing through the trees behind him and chuckled to himself, imagining a startled deer.

Carrots went near the thicket where he suspected quite a few rabbits lived, and some lettuces near the field where a large colony of ground squirrels lived. A few ears of corn in the meadow where he saw deer in the early mornings, and a few other stops and then he was ready to go home. His basket was empty, so he decided to look for herbs in the last little meadow he visited. As he stepped into the clearing, he could hear bees humming and cicadas buzzing wildly in the nearby trees. Something fell to the ground with a thump beside him and he looked around, startled. There was a branch on the ground beside him. It must have fallen, that was all. A few birds sang and called. It was so very peaceful and the shade at the edge of the clearing was so inviting that Jonathan decided to sit down for a rest before he did anything else. He intended to have just a small rest, not a nap, but as soon as he pulled his cap down over his eyes and put his hands behind his head, he was sound asleep and soon the sound of his snores joined the buzzing of the cicadas and the humming of the bees.

The afternoon shadows grew longer and the shade grew deeper. Finally, as the afternoon turned to evening, Jonathan woke up. He let out an exceptionally loud snore and awoke with a start. He sat up suddenly, arms and legs flailing, with that peculiar sense of being disoriented that comes after a long nap in a strange place.

As he looked around and realized that he had slept all afternoon, Jonathan knew he would have to hurry if he wanted to make it home by dark. It was a good hike and the little trails he followed through the woods would be hard to walk in the dark, full of foot-catching vines and roots and lots of stones to stumble on. He picked up his basket and set off down the path. It was little more than a game trail, and rather narrow. It was already growing darker, and Jonathan was very much afraid that he was going to have a rough walk home. He was concentrating so hard on where he was putting his feet that he didn’t watch where the path he was on was taking him, and took the wrong fork. It was quite a while before he realized that he wasn’t on the right path and in fact, had no idea where he was. He was lost. He turned around to retrace his steps and did fine until the path branched. He took what he hoped was the correct branch in the gathering darkness. A short while later, he had to admit that he was not only lost, he was hopelessly lost, with no idea of how far from home he was or anything else. It was a bit of a puzzle really, because he knew these woods very well, and had explored almost all of them. It must be the late dusk that threw him off. With a sigh, he sat down on a fallen tree to take stock of the situation.

On one hand, no one would be worried about him because he lived alone, except maybe his chickens since he wouldn’t be home to feed them, and since it was late Friday, no one at work would notice his absence right away. And since he often just worked from home on his computer, they might not notice for a few more days anyway. He had no close neighbors and his mother didn’t expect him to call until next weekend. On the other hand, these were just the woods near his house, which he had been exploring for the last five years, and when it was daylight again, surely he could find his way out easily; the darkness was what was confusing him. But that meant a night in the woods, with the snakes and all the biting insects that came out at night. It wasn’t like he had a choice, though.

He got up to walk a little farther to see if he could find a slightly more comfortable – and possibly safer – place to spend the night. If he only had some of the veggies left in his basket! In the dark, he couldn’t even see well enough to collect some wild greens. There would be no moon tonight, so it would be very dark indeed.

Finally he came upon a large tree with a nice fork in it high enough above the ground to make him feel safer from centipedes and snakes, large enough to wedge himself into and small enough that he would be wedged and wouldn’t be likely to fall out in the event that he should actually fall asleep. He clambered up into the tree and was soon ensconced there, his cheek pressed against the rough bark. He felt better about the situation than he had ever since he awoke late in the afternoon. He sat there, listening to the night sounds until he finally drifted off to sleep.

The sun was just coming up when he woke up, stiff and sore, with a deep bark imprint on his cheek. Climbing down, Jonathan set off again to find his way home. All morning he wandered through the woods, and after he came upon the same landmarks several times, he began leaving little trail blazes for himself to mark his way. Finally, just past noon and with his stomach growling with hunger, he found himself on a path that was familiar, although far from home. He followed it gratefully and about an hour later he was nearly home. As he stepped out of the woods and into the brush surrounding his house, he stopped in shock. Someone was in his garden and they were singing “Oats peas beans and barley grow…” just as he had been singing it yesterday before he left. He crept over to the edge of the garden, careful to stay hidden, and peeked out from behind the beans growing by the fence. He stopped in shock.

He was behind the beans, but he was also standing in the garden with a hoe, doing the weeding and singing. A basket of fresh vegetables was beside him.

It was Jonathan himself. It had to be. From behind the beans, Jonathan looked down at himself. He was wearing the exact same clothes and carried the same basket, raveling at exactly the same place on the handle. The patches on the jeans were the same and his cap was the same. There was the same nick on the side of the neck from shaving, although his was healed up a bit since yesterday.

How was this possible? What was happening?

As he crouched there, scared and puzzled, the Jonathan in the garden picked a few more things and headed for the house. He came back out moments later and walked purposefully towards the woods with the basket in his hand. The Jonathan hiding behind the runner beans waited until he had left and crept over to the kitchen window. There was a pile of fresh vegetables on the counter, just as he remembered leaving them the day before. There was even one tomato that wasn’t quite ripe, just as he remembered.

Jonathan rocked back on his heels. This must be a dream, except in a dream, his stomach wouldn’t be hurting from hunger. Maybe it was a hallucination, then, brought on by hunger and lack of sleep. He decided that this must be it and the best cure for that was to go in, eat some of those lovely vegetables and get some sleep. He let himself in the door and on the way to the kitchen, booted up his computer. He made himself a salad with the vegetables and took some leftover stew from the refrigerator and went back out to check his email while the stew heated in the microwave.

Jonathan glanced at the date and did a double take. It said that it was still yesterday.

He clicked to a couple of websites and they all said the same thing. He checked his email. All of it was familiar, mail he had answered yesterday, but the inbox showed it as still being the same date, and there was nothing new.

He snatched up the phone and dialed the number of a friend. All he got was an answering machine – and his friend, out of town yesterday, was supposed to be home all day today. Unless it was still yesterday. Somehow.

Jonathan ran out of the house and into the woods, crashing through the brush frantically, trying to catch up to himself. He remembered hearing the crashing from behind him yesterday – or today. He realized that he wasn’t sure he wanted to catch up to himself. Who knew what might happen? He decided to go to the clearing where he fell asleep instead. He got there in time to see himself step into the clearing, and chucked a fallen branch into the area, trying to scare himself away from the clearing and the nap. The Jonathan in the clearing looked down, and the Jonathan outside the clearing realized with a start that he remembered the falling branch.

As he stood there wondering what to do, the Jonathan in the clearing settled down and pulled his cap over his eyes.

The next thing Jonathan knew, he was waking himself up with a loud snore in the dusky clearing. He sat up, feeling confused and remembering what had happened, and shook his head in relief. Clearly, he had had a very, very strange dream. Perhaps hunger had something to do with it, because he was as ravenous as if he had been out in the woods all night.

He grabbed his basket and carefully followed the correct paths to get home. Even though it was nearly dark, he was careful to take his time and go the right direction. There would be no getting lost for Jonathan today. Maybe that dream had been a warning to watch his path.

Relieved, Jonathan found himself at the edge of the clearing where he lived just as it became fully dark.

He put down the basket by the door and let himself into the house. He stopped to boot up the computer on the way through; oddly, it was only in sleep mode. He shrugged. He must have forgotten to turn it off yesterday. As he walked towards the kitchen, he saw that the message light on his phone was blinking and he stopped to check his caller ID. There was one call from the friend he had called in his dream. He poked buttons and the message played: “Hey Jonathan, what did you want? I just got back into town…”

Jonathan didn’t hear any more of the message. He ran into the kitchen. Instead of a pile of fresh vegetables on the counter, there was a salad, wilted and dried out. He opened the microwave. It held a bowl of stew, congealed and old looking. Jonathan raced back out to the computer and checked the date. It said it was tomorrow. He sat there by the computer with his heart racing. He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew one thing. He wasn’t going to go out into those woods again anytime soon.

She Wolf (c)2007

The Garden

Mrs. Roberts had always had a garden. It had always been a well loved, well tended garden. She said that gardening was good for the soul. She weeded, mulched, fed and watered her garden. She also sang to it. She liked old folk songs best, but she threw in a lively hymn or two sometimes. She said that singing was good for the soul too, and that putting the two things together, gardening and singing, was the best of all.

Her neighbors loved to hear her out in her garden, working and singing. She had bumper crops of vegetables- huge zucchini, giant tomatoes, cucumbers the size of most folks’ zucchinis, and salad makings of all varieties. She kept the whole neighborhood supplied with veggies all spring and summer. Her flower garden, too, was a sight to behold. The colors of the masses of flowers with the butterflies floating above them had inspired more than one person to plant a garden of their own.

It was with great regret that Mrs. Roberts left her garden to move to a senior citizens’ high-rise across town, but there was no help for it. She could not handle a big house and yard by herself anymore. The new apartment was nice, but it seemed so sterile and empty. Even when all of her favorite things and the pictures of her family were there, it just didn’t feel like home. She hung plants in the windows, put herbs in the kitchen, and African violets on every window sill, and that helped a little. But it still didn’t feel right.

One day at the store, Mrs. Roberts saw a nice big planter. She realized that if she filled it with potting soil, she could grow some nice lettuces for salads right out on her balcony. She went home with four planters, soil, and seeds for lettuce, carrots, marigolds and tomatoes. The next day she went back and got planters and seeds for beans, petunias, daisies and sweet peas. By the end of the week, her little balcony was empty of the iron table and chairs that had been on it, and full of planters. By the end of the month, it was green, and by the end of two months, flowers bloomed and vegetables flourished.

Soon she was supplying all of her neighbors with the fruits of her little garden again. She sang to her plants as she worked in her little garden, and her neighbors grew used to the songs that accompanied her gardening.

You could tell which was Mrs. Roberts’ balcony from the ground. It was the one with all the green on it. Some of the other tenants in the high-rise thought she had a good idea, and they started growing gardens on their balconies, too. Most stopped with a few pots of flowers, but some had almost as much as Mrs. Roberts did. Theirs didn’t grow quite as well or produce quite as much - Mrs. Roberts said it was the love she gave her garden, and no one could deny that her garden was well loved. She said they should try singing to their gardens like she did, but most of them were too embarrassed to try.

Mrs. Roberts began to start small pots of flowers and vegetables to give away. She made sure that the pots were full of the recipients’ favorite flowers or vegetables and soon even more balcony gardens were growing.

And always, every day, Mrs. Roberts sang to her plants, singing with joy as she gardened because singing and gardening were both good for the soul.

One day, as she stepped outside with her watering can and little garden fork, she thought she heard someone else singing. It was a strange, lilting voice, and she couldn’t tell what the words were, but it was very compelling and beautiful. Mrs. Roberts was delighted that someone else was singing. So she listened for a little bit, and then began to hum along with the voice, eventually making up words as she went along. The gardening was even more pleasant than usual that day.

Soon she began to hear the other singer almost every day. Together, they formed harmonies and while the words the other voice was singing were never clear, the results were beautiful. The garden flourished as never before and Mrs. Roberts did, too.

In fact, Mrs. Roberts was feeling wonderful. Her arthritis wasn’t bothering her very much, she was sleeping better, and she just had more energy. She and her garden were both very happy. Her neighbors beamed when they saw her in the halls. “How well she looks,” they said to each other.” Maybe there is something to all this singing and gardening.” More of them went out and bought planters and soil and seeds for themselves.

One day, however, Mrs. Roberts took a fall. It was just as she stepped back into the living room from the balcony. She turned as she was shutting the sliding glass doors, and tripped over her own two feet. She tried to catch herself, but down she went, with her leg getting caught in a chair by the door. She fell into a table which crashed on top of her, with the lamp from the table landing on her head with a thump and her leg going snap as she fell. Mrs. Roberts lay there in the middle of the mess, out cold, with her leg at a very nasty angle.

Sometime the next day, Mrs. Roberts’ neighbors noticed that she had not been out on the balcony singing and gardening since early the day before. By the day after that, they realized that no one had seen her in the halls and no one had found fresh veggies by their doors for several days. They tried to call her, but got no answer. Worried, they got the manager to unlock her apartment.

When they went inside, they got quite a surprise. Mrs. Roberts was lying on the floor by the balcony doors, with an ugly lump on her head and her leg at a nasty angle. Of course she was in pain, but there was something strange about the scene. The odd thing was the small pile of tomatoes and cucumbers beside her, and the trailing bits of vine that snaked in the crack where the sliding door wasn’t quite shut. The vine plants had come right in and made themselves at home, with fruit growing right where Mrs. Roberts could reach it. She wasn’t hungry or very thirsty; the vegetables beside her had taken care of that. It was odd, though, because those plants were on the far side of the balcony, and the vines had apparently come inside and produced fruit in the span of a day. The neighbors decided that Mrs. Roberts must have been having them grow inside for a while.

Mrs. Roberts was taken away to the hospital, where they put her leg in a cast and said that for someone her age who had been lying there for three days with a lump on her head and a broken leg, she was doing remarkably well. They sent her home with a wheel chair the day after that, which was several days earlier than usual. Mrs. Roberts was delighted to get back to her home. The neighbors chipped in and helped with the shopping and all the little household chores she couldn’t do in a wheel chair. They said that she had been helping them with their gardens and giving them vegetables and flowers and now it was their turn to help her. Many of them sang while they helped in her apartment and Mrs. Roberts beamed at them.

Soon her neighbors were hearing her sing again as she gardened. It was strange, though, she always sounded like she was harmonizing with someone when she sang out there on her balcony, but no one else was singing. And she had said something strange when they had found her, too, but her neighbors thought it must have been that bump on the head.

She had said that wasn’t it lovely, all this time she had been taking care of her garden, and now it had taken care of her, too.

Fairy Garden

“Please, please Mom, can’t we make it today? I really want to and you said we could make one this weekend! It quit raining…Please?”  Jenny tried hard not to whine, but the weekend was almost over and Mom didn’t look like she was going to be done with her project anytime soon. Jenny was getting desperate.

“All right. Did you clean out that old goldfish bowl yet? It needs to be ready,” said Mom.

“Yes! I did that yesterday!” Jenny ran to get the trowel and a little basket.

A little bit later they were combing the river banks, looking for just the right plants to put in the terrarium. A small cushion of soft green moss, some beautiful little ferns that looked like little fans, and some tiny ground plants called partridge berry all went into the basket, along with some of the dirt they grew in. A few more tiny ferns, and another cushion of moss and the basket was full. Mom and Jenny took their finds back to the house.

Carefully, Jenny arranged the moss on the bottom of the goldfish bowl, and then tucked the ferns in here and there. The partridge berry was added, and then the whole thing was watered thoroughly. Mom went and got a rubber band, and Jenny put a piece of plastic wrap tight over the top and used the rubber band to hold it in place. Then she put the bowl in the sunshine on the dining room table and waited for the magic.

Like most plant magic (unless your name is Jack and you plant magic beans) it took a while to happen. But slowly, each day, the little world inside the goldfish bowl changed and grew. It went from a collection of plants placed here and there to a tiny fairy garden. The plastic wrap kept the moisture in, and the sunshine coming in the window made it “rain” inside the bowl when it got warm, from the condensation. The little ferns settled in and grew and the partridge berry rambled around, making a little archway on one sided of the garden, against the glass. The moss was the smooth green fairy grass. Jenny would sit with her chin on the table and stare into the little fairy world for minutes on end- a long time for a busy, lively little girl. She told herself stories about the fairies that lived in there and kept the little garden growing well.

“Please, please Mom, can’t we do it today? I really want to and you said we could do it soon! There’s no one home today, and it would be perfect…Please?” Anastasia tried hard not to whine, but Mom kept putting things off.

“All right. It looks like they’ve gone out for the day, with the school bag and everything. Let’s go.” Mom led the way through the hole in the screen and a few minutes later she and Anastasia were standing on the dining room table looking into the little terrarium. It was the perfect size for a pair of fairies no bigger than small clothes moths.

“It’s perfect!” Anastasia breathed, admiring the little archway.

“It is a nice one,” Mom agreed. “Let’s go.”  She flitted to the top of the bowl, and very carefully cut a small slit in the plastic wrap. Anastasia followed her and they both squeezed inside. It was warm and wet inside, but that didn’t bother the fairies at all. They landed gently on the mossy ground. They wandered around, enjoying the tiny garden which was just their size, and then sat down under a fern to eat their lunch. Anastasia fell asleep and Mom almost did, it was so warm and peaceful inside.

A little while later, Mom squeezed out of the slit again and was sitting on top of the plastic wrap, looking around the big room, “Come on, we need to go now. We can come back another day,” she said. Then the front door banged. “They’re not supposed to be home yet!” Mom panicked. “You don’t have enough time to get out! Hide, quickly!”

Anastasia buried herself in the deepest part of the little garden and blended into the green, which is how fairies they keep from being seen. She was just in time, too, because Jenny came into the dining room and dropped into one of the chairs. She put her head down on the table and stared into the terrarium. Her face was very red and she looked miserable.

Her mom came into the room, and said, “I’ll get you something for your fever. Do you want something to eat before you go to bed? I’ll get you some soup and crackers.” She smoothed back Jenny’s hair and left the room. Jenny continued to stare listlessly into the terrarium.

Anastasia’s fairy mom had flitted to a plant hanging in the window and perched there, worriedly watching the scene below. Anastasia kept herself well hidden.

Jenny’s mom brought her juice and medicine, and then soup and crackers and more juice. Jenny ate a little and then dropped her spoon in the bowl with a little clink. “Mom, I want to go lie down now,” she said.

Mom answered, “All right.” She looked at the little fairy garden that Jenny loved so much. “Do you want to take your little garden with you?”

Jenny nodded, almost smiling, and they took the bowl with them into her bedroom.

Anastasia’s mom was frantic. Anastasia was still in the garden, and now the garden was gone.

She couldn’t fly around to find it until no one was around, and Jenny’s mom was going to be home for the rest of the day. She settled in for a long wait.

Meanwhile, Jenny was settled in her bed, with the bowl on her bedside table where she could gaze into it whenever she wanted. Mom turned on some quiet music and left Jenny in the darkened room so she could rest. Jenny was too achy from her fever to fall right asleep, so she just stared into her fairy garden while she lay there.

Since the room was dark and quiet, and Jenny was quiet, Anastasia thought she was safe. She came out from her hiding place and peeked around. Jenny’s head was a little lower than the bottom of the bowl, so Anastasia did not see here. Anastasia was a little bit stiff from hiding so long, so she stretched and fluttered her wings a little. Now, she was quite tiny, but still, the stretching and fluttering of wings was something Jenny could see. At first she thought a little clothes moth had found its way into her terrarium. However, clothes moths are not usually green, nor do they stand and do stretches.

Jenny blinked her eyes. She thought perhaps she was dreaming, but the little person with wings- the fairy- was still there. She sat up a little bit to get a better look.

Anastasia froze. She saw Jenny looking at her and she didn’t know what to do. Her mom was nowhere around and a human was looking at her.

“Wow,” breathed Jenny quietly. “I have a real fairy in my fairy garden.” She moved closer. Anastasia was still too frightened to move. Jenny put her face up to the glass and said, “Hello. My name is Jenny. I made this fairy garden. Who are you?”

Anastasia finally found her wings and started fluttering frantically. She could not find the slit her mother had cut in the plastic wrap on top, though, and soon fell back to the mossy ground, exhausted, with all the drops of water that had been clinging to the top raining down on her. She was crying.

Jenny couldn’t hear her, of course, because the glass was in the way and a tiny fairy’s voice is very tiny indeed, but she could see that Anastasia was very upset. She reached over and carefully took the plastic wrap off the top of the bowl. “There, you can get out now. I won’t hurt you.” Jenny couldn’t stand to see anyone scared and unhappy.

It took a minute or two for Anastasia to see that the top was open, but as soon as she did, she darted up and out. She quickly found a hiding place in the spider plant hanging in the window.

As soon as Jenny saw the fairy fly out, she put the top back on the bowl, finding the tiny slit cut in the plastic as she did so. Then she said, “I promise I won’t hurt you. Won’t you come down and talk to me? Do you like my fairy garden?”

Anastasia did not answer, of course. She was shaking as she hid in the spider plant.

“If you decide you want to talk, I’ll be here,” Jenny said, and closed her eyes. She fell asleep a few minutes later.

Anastasia watched as Jenny fell asleep and then fluttered quickly around the room, looking for a way out. There was none. She was too big to fit through the keyhole, and the space under the door was too small because of a carpet in Jenny’s room. She flew back over to the spider plant and sat there, disgusted, to wait for the door to open so she could get out.

When the door did open, and Jenny’s mom came in to check on her, Anastasia did not dare move. Jenny opened her eyes and said, “I found a fairy in my garden, Mom.”

Mom said, “That’s just the fever. Now close your eyes and go back to sleep.”

The plant was on the far side of the room from the door and if she moved, Jenny’s mother would be sure to see her. Anastasia knew her mom would be frantic by now, and so she decided to do something very risky. She decided to ask Jenny for help.

Fairies do not like to let humans know they exist. It can be very dangerous for them, because humans might decide to capture them. But Jenny had let Anastasia loose when she found her trapped in the bowl. Anastasia decided that Jenny might be trustworthy.

She sat on the edge of the bedside table, and waited, dangling her feet over the edge.

Eventually, she got tired of waiting, and fluttered over and tickled Jenny on the cheek. Jenny twitched, but didn’t wake up. She grabbed a strand of Jenny’s hair and tickled her under the nose. Jenny grumbled and opened her eyes. Anastasia flew back up to her spot on the bedside table.

Jenny saw the movement and her eyes widened. “Oh!” she said quietly, “You’re back!”

 

Anastasia made her voice as big as she could, using a little bit of magic.

“I’m Anastasia,” she introduced herself. “Yes, I’m a fairy.” Then she giggled. “And I really like your fairy garden, but I didn’t mean to get stuck in there. And now I’m stuck in here and my mom will be worried about me,” she said.

“I always knew there were fairies even if Mom says there aren’t. My grandmother used to see fairies playing outside her window.  I always hoped I would see one someday!”  She paused. “I can open the door for you, but I wish you’d stay for a while. I’m home sick from school and I’m lonely. I could use some company,” Jenny pleaded.

“I can’t go out where your mom will see me anyway. We’ll have to wait until she’s doing outside or something,” said Anastasia. “I can stay for a few minutes.”

Little girls are little girls, whether they are fairies or humans, and the time passed quickly. After a while, though, Jenny started to feel bad again, and lay back down on her bed. Then Anastasia had an idea. She said, “Why don’t you go tell your mom you feel worse, and I’ll ride out under your hair? When your mom goes to get your medicine, I’ll fly out to the plant in the dining room. I’ll bet that’s where my mom is hiding!”

Jenny agreed, and they did just that. Anastasia hid under her hair, which tickled quite a bit until she remembered to keep her wings still, and then flew safely away while they knew Jenny’s mom was busy. Jenny returned to her room alone. She hadn’t quite closed the door, though, and when her mother was outside checking the mail, she felt a tickle on her cheek again.

This time there were two fairies on her bedside table. They both smiled at her. Anastasia introduced Jenny to her mother.

“Thank you for helping Anastasia. You are a good friend to the fairies!” she said.  Then she added, “If you will cut a small hole in your screen, we will come and visit you often. We do that, when we find a trustworthy human- like you.” She smiled.

Jenny was delighted. She found some scissors in her desk and cut a very small slit in her screen, right down at the bottom where no one would notice. The two fairies left through the hole, with the promise that they would return.

And so they did. They came and brought their friends, too. They kept Jenny company while she was sick, and afterwards. They found that Jenny’s room was a fine place to wait out a thunderstorm or a bad windstorm. Jenny put several more plants in her room so they would have good places to hide, if they needed it.

A few weeks later, Jenny found a really huge old goldfish bowl out in the garage, and cleaned it out. She begged her mother until Mom finally took her out to the river again, and once more they scoured the banks for moss and ferns and partridge berry plants. This time Jenny took the bowl to her room and set it up in there with the door closed.

“Don’t you want some help?” asked Mom.

“No, I’m having fun myself,” answered Jenny. She giggled. She had all the help she needed fluttering around giving her advice. The finished fairy garden sat on a table in Jenny’s room. She added some other things, like pretty stones for a tiny path, colorful marbles, and small shells. She even found some tiny gardening tools from a doll house to put in there.

Her mom was looking at it one day soon after. “You really did a great job with this terrarium, Jenny. It looks like real fairies could live in it.”

 

Jenny just giggled. 
.

Who Lives in the Garden?

I opened my window this morning when I got up, letting the day into the room. It was still a bit early and quiet, and I stuck my head out to get a deep breath of the morning and the flowers.

The scent of the flowers was intoxicating, almost overwhelming. There were thousands of blooms open this morning, all colors and shapes and scents. I caught a whiff of my favorite, lilac, and a hint of roses. And the butterflies! Every flower had its own butterfly in attendance this morning. They flitted from flower to flower, changing places with each other ceaselessly. It was like putting my eyes to a living kaleidoscope.

A small breeze sprang up, and rustled its way around the garden. The butterflies followed in its wake. It swirled to the center of the garden and all of the butterflies fluttered around, coalescing into a shape that changed as I watched. Slowly, the form of a man was made, covered in butterflies. Blue ones were where his pants were, and yellow ones rested in place of his shirt. Tiny ones milled about, covering the rest of him in shifting colors.

He raised his head and looked at me, smiling.

“Who are you?” I asked, surprised.

“No one special,” he replied, still smiling.

“Where did you come from? The butterflies…” I was still trying to be logical.

“I am feeding the butterflies,” he said.

“I thought they ate nectar from the flowers,” I said.

He shrugged and smiled again. “Oh, do you think so? Maybe you’re right. But I am feeding them.” He tilted his head back to the sky and spread out his arms, slowly turning in a circle. The butterflies still rested all over him, their wings moving slightly.

He completed his circle, smiled again, and winked at me. Then the butterflies began to flutter off and in seconds, all there was left was a large cloud of butterflies where the man had been.  The small breeze puffed past me, and I smelled all sorts of flowers again. I thought I heard a voice laugh and say, “Goodbye.”