For a few years now, we've been writing seasonal faerie fiction for a local newsletter. Our column
is called Faerie Tidings. We're now working on a book based on the characters in these stories.
Here's a sampling of Faerie Tidings, one for each season:
Spring,
Summer,
Fall,
Winter
Spring
All winter, we schemed and planned and drew and measured, and now it's time to plant our precious
seedlings. In the sun room, we make sure each one is organized according to our big colorful garden
map, which is posted on the wall. We set up the map according to plant families and plants that like
to grow together. Our seedlings have been carefully watered and loved well, and now they're ready to
go live in the rich soil and dig their roots in deep.
We hum little processional tunes as we ceremoniously carry the flats out into the sunshine. The air
is fresh and warm and the cloudless sky glows from the happy sunlight. The two black cats lounge along
the parade route, and occasionally offer a yawn of approval. After all the flats for the first bed
are outside, we take our measured strings and break ground for each baby plant.
In the grass beside the garden, we notice a rounded purple shape. It's an undiscovered egg from our
Ostara egg hunt! As we exclaim over the discovery, the cats come over to investigate and sniff the
area. We remember the cool, breezy day of the hunt and the merriment of our friends as they searched
the house and yard. The eggs were collected in our homemade baskets and later became party favors
that our guests took home.
After the first bed is complete, we continue to plant the remainder of the garden, occasionally
refreshing ourselves with some mint iced tea and light sandwiches. As the garden planting comes to
a close, we turn our thoughts to our upcoming Beltane celebration.
Lounging in the shade of the front porch and sipping the last of our tea, we discuss what music and
food and activities we'll include. We'll of course invite our musician friends, and see what new songs
they've come up with over the winter. Our feast will include fresh greens, for our first spinach and
lettuce leaves should be ready by then. We can also check the pantry to see what still hides there in
jars and baskets. Our new idea for a Beltane activity: hot piñata! We'll fill a big
paper-mâché heart with sweets, toys, ribbons and bags of seeds and quickly toss the heart
around in a big circle until it bursts in fits of laughter and joy.
As the dusk faeries begin to creep down from the hills, we see movement out on the edge of the field.
A handsome buck appears, sniffing the spring air, unaware of our presence. We smile and admire his
stately manner as he moves delicately along the edge of the field. Another sudden motion catches our
eye as we notice a pair of rabbits near the trail head, bounding this way towards the garden. We're
happy to see that the animals who share our mountain will be taken care of, as our garden will provide
plenty for all of us.
We turn our thoughts once again to our upcoming celebration. After our evening meal, we craft
invitations from homemade paper, berry inks, and silver foil, using calligraphy to address each one.
The nights can still be chilly, so as we craft, we start a small fire and settle in for the evening.
Summer
Laying in the sunlight feels so good. The bright sun shines from on high as we take a rest after berry
picking. We recline on a large rock, enjoying the cool breeze and listening to the dipple-dapple of
the stream sliding by. We hear the gentle swaying of the trees and the birds singing their joy. We
think about the two black cats and how glad we'll be to see them at our journey's end. We know they're
sharing the same sunlight as they lounge around back at the cottage.
Meanwhile, we are spending our summer holiday up at our lovely, hidden Crater Lake retreat. The lake
forms only during the summer months when the mountain snows have melted and the underground springs
are overflowing. The water is cold but refreshing in the summer's heat. The spring water sustains us
with its delicious minerals, brought up from the Earth's life-giving depths. Before leaving home, we
filled our backpacks with dried and dehydrated delicacies. But the main part of our meals come from
what we harvest here in the wild: berries, roots, mushrooms, watercress, lettuce, dandelion greens,
and herbs. We find plenty to eat here in the forest on our summer trek.
We breathe deeply, enjoying the smells of wildflowers, Earth, and mist rising from the nearby stream.
Our berry baskets are nearly full and we'll stop by one of our favorite mushroom patches on the way
back to our campsite. Our camp consists of small lean-tos, which we use to shelter our supplies and
ourselves when it rains, but we sleep most nights under the vast swath of stars. They fill our
dreamscapes as the moon marks the time with her ebbing and flowing. We recall that tonight is the
second full moon of our adventure and look forward to celebrating the Esbat together.
We swing our legs gently against the boulder, nibbling berries and discussing our sky-clad moon dance.
We'll set ablaze some of our collection of dried fallen branches and logs, and make an offering of our
woodland harvest. We know that we'll be sustained through the summer. We'll dance our merry jigs to
the sound of our voices, drumming on our bodies, and playing our noses like harmonicas. Then,
surprising the old owl who lives in the big pine, we'll do a running, screeching leap into the lake,
scattering moon rays like jewels across the water. We'll finish up by toasting mushroom and root
kebabs over the fire and opening a flask of our homemade honey wine.
We giggle as dragonflies alight on our toes, resting a spell on us as we rest on the big stone. We
wonder if the mountain giggles as we sit on its granite boulder toes. Our laughter reminds us of the
fun times we'll have at Lammas, when we break camp and head over to the north ridge to play games
with our brethren there. Every summer they have a big feast, featuring fun games, festive music, and
frolicking dances. Fargoth and Meredith will warmly welcome us and are always our strongest
competitors in the three-legged race. We usually collapse in a heap of laughter at the finish line
together and share the prize. Perhaps we'll win this year – we've been practicing around the barnyard
with Maude, the donkey, and the two black cats looking on. Other Lammas games include scavenger hunts,
tug-of-peace, and the marathon swim across the lake. The Sparkle Faeries invariably shine brightest in
the evening dance-off.
Shadows from small wisps of clouds dance over us and we realize that the shady mushroom patch would
feel pleasant to our heated skin. We thank our perch and the sun for the rest and warmth. As we walk
down the path by the stream in the shade of the trees, we notice some twigs floating along beside us.
We recall the canoe trip we'll be taking once the Lammas festivities wind down.
We'll stay with Fargoth and Meredith and work together to create the canoes. They always save the best
fallen logs each year to form into watercrafts. They'll accompany us on the winding journey down the
streams and rivers from their mountain home back to our cottage. There are only two places where we
have to carry the canoes, the shallows at the Old Man's Ford and the Rainbow Waterfalls – though
sometimes we fly over them to land safely and wetly in the pools below, depending on how adventurous
we are feeling. At the base of the falls is a great camping spot and we always linger to dive into
the pools, scattering fish and frogs in a surprising burble.
When we make it back to our home, it will be our turn to host a celebration. We burn the canoes in a
big bonfire and will use the ash for making soap and feeding our plants. Our friends and neighbors
will help us harvest from our bountiful overflowing garden, creating a huge feast that celebrates the
summer and our return home.
As we leave the path, we bathe our feet in the cool stream and dry them off on the soft moss that
leads to the shady mushroom patch. We tithe some of our berries to the Mushroom Guardians and then
select the largest caps to put on our kebabs for our lovely Esbat feast tonight. We smile, enjoying
the summer moments as well as the delicious anticipation of the joyous times yet to come.
Fall
The wind tugs at our cloaks as we kneel to plant another bed of bulbs – this time red tulips and
yellow crocuses. We have just finished with our biggest garden task: planting lots and lots of garlic!
The day is overcast and it's a bit chilly, but we feel sure the rain will hold off for our Samhain
observances.
As we crouch down to dig more cool earth, we remember the hot cocoa we had this morning in our
slippers and we look forward to the spicy squash soup that will soon be bubbling over the hearth-fire.
The two black cats wander over idly, rubbing their tails against us and sniffing the dark loam. Soon,
they murr their farewells as they meander off towards the compost pile, which is now full of layers
of stalks from the garden and fallen leaves after our morning's labors.
With satisfied sighs, we return all our tools to the barn, feed the donkey, and head inside for a hot
bath. As we simmer merrily in the tub, the cauldron merrily simmers our soup. The scent of it wafts
toward us, mingling with the smells of our lavender soap and sage incense. Wrapped in the warm aromas,
our consciousness drifts in and out across the veils.
The shining strands of the web spread out infinitely, connecting all beings who are, have been and
will be. An evocative resonance leads us back to our ancestors, and connects us forward to future
generations. Interwoven are the ancient energies of the dreaming Green Man and the wise Crone, their
melody guiding us through the intricate dance. We glimpse Autumn Faeries as they mischief their way
through the brush; Elder Tree Spirits yawning and preparing for their winter slumber; and deer making
their way daintily to the orchard where the fallen apples beckon.
Sometime later, we wrap ourselves in fluffy bathrobes and fuzzy slippers, and complete the ensemble
with bright purple aprons. It's time to head to the kitchen and create our Samhain treats. Along the
way, the popping and crackling of the fire reminds us to stir the soup. We clang the lid open and
rolling steam envelops us. We give it a stir and a taste, adding a pinch of this and that to accent
the savory squash.
In the kitchen, our cakes have cooled since mid-morning, and we cut them into tiny squares. Soon, a
pot of dark dipping chocolate is melting on the stovetop. We gather the fillings for our petit-fours:
almond paste, maple sugar, strawberry jam, apple butter, dried blueberries, lavender honey, and hot
pepper jelly. The messy process of assembling them inspires many giggles and lots of finger-licking.
By the time they're ready, the pumpernickel dough has risen and is longing for the heat of the oven.
As the sun sinks lower in the sky, others begin to arrive. They bring offerings and their
contributions to the feast: jars of pickles, pots of butter, a big bowl of beans and rice, and jugs of
cold apple cider. The musicians are laden with drums and instruments snug in their cases. The food is
packed into traveling baskets and our soup is carefully ladled into a plump pumpkin, its slimy orange
innards hollowed out. The bread has cooled enough to add to the top of the traveling feast.
Amongst the mists of dusk, the group rustles its way slowly up the mountainside path towards the
ancestors' grove. Our voices raise in a lilting chant as we process toward our ritual. We can feel
the cool whispers of the spirits, and the distant sound of a flute reminds us of our kin beyond the
veil. We anticipate the ancestral feast that will soon be laid out among the stone cairns, and the
satisfied sighs of those to whom we pay tribute. Tonight, we celebrate our departed kin with food and
song.
Winter
The wind howls and the snow flies outside our cozy cottage. Flames dance in the fireplace, whipped
occasionally when a strong gust comes down the flue. The two black cats somehow manage to ignore all
the bustle around them, curled up in tight circles on the rug. We sip cinnamon hot chocolate and start
our decoration ritual.
After having struggled down the stairs with our big wooden chest of antique ornaments and holiday
treasures, we creak it open with excitement and anticipation. With a thud, the lid opens revealing a
bounty of delights. We pull out the first layer: glossy pine cones, multi-colored witch balls, silk
ribbons, velvet bows, glass globes, an old strand of popcorn garland (oops), and a crocheted doily
embroidered with holly that fits perfectly on the mantel.
Giggling, we pull out festive hats and decorate each of our heads. And then ooh and aah as we lift
free the cast-iron candleholder shaped like a fir tree; its inset stained glass glistens in the
firelight. The scents of candles and incense follow and we immediately put them all to good use
filling the room with flavor. The next prize is the family music box! Strains of ancient carols
infuse the rest of the empty spaces.
Braving the cold, we bring in the garlands that we had made before the storm. Shaking them free of
snow, we begin hanging them on the mantel, the railing to the upstairs, the doorways, and looping
them above the window sills. We add with care the delicate ornaments while the black cats begin to
take an interest in our doings.
Before long, we adjourn to the kitchen, bringing the music box for an accompaniment. Our menu for
this private Yule celebration includes buttermilk biscuits, wild rice-stuffed acorn squash, zesty
cranberry relish, broccoli with slivered almonds, mashed sweet potatoes with dark maple syrup, and
wilted spinach salad. The coup de grace being the dessert: chocolate raspberry trifle with fresh
cream and, of course, bright wedges of juicy tangerines. Hot mint tea will finish this evening's
tasting. With long-time practice, the feast preparations finish in harmony like a great symphony.
We are about to serve when...
With a crash we hear the other room explode in a cacophony of sound. Startled cats whiz by our feet
headed for the shelter of the pantry. We think they look a bit guilty as we make our way to the
source of the commotion. We see garland pieces hanging askew and shards of glass from shattered globes
as if thrown by angry Globe Faeries lofting grenades. We can't help but chuckle as we picture the
mischief-loving cats and their reactions to their own antics.
Soon the mess is cleared up and the black cats are coaxed out with spoonfuls of the fresh cream.
Before long, it seems as if they had meant to run into the pantry all along. The Globe Faeries are
appeased as we promise to reinforce their numbers for next year's festivities. At last we sit down to
our bountiful Yule dinner. We give thanks for our loved ones, friends, and our lovely feline
companions.
After dessert and a half-hearted attempt at dishes, we snuggle up by the fireplace. We happily swap
handmade gifts, pulled from each of our secret hiding spots. Gasps of delight and heartfelt hugs are
exchanged. Outside the darkened windows, the snow continues to fall as our eyelids begin to droop.
Sleepy yawns lead to dozing by the fire. Soon after, we snuff out the candles and make our way
upstairs to our comfy bed, settling under down comforters and heavy quilts we received last Yule.
We hope the Globe Faeries keep the cease-fire through the long night; the black cats' presence on the
end of the bed makes it seem likely. We ease into our Solstice dreams, seeing in our mind's eye the
sun glistening off the snow when morning comes at last.
