In honor of faeries everywhere, I'm reposting the Oak Tree Faery. Here's the story behind this pen and ink drawing. As a child, I imagined there were Gnomes living beneath the oaks in our vast front yard. Their names were Lester and Jenny.
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There were two huge oak trees, one beside the house, and another quite close to the road. At the base of both trees there was what looked like a small doorway. I imagined Lester and Jenny's snug home beneath the trees. I was sure there was an immense network of rooms and tunnels between the two oaks. I often thought I caught glimpses of their twinkling faces from behind the trunks of the trees.
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Sometimes I set breakfast up for the faery folk on an old mossy log. I would find a broad toadstool mushroom for the table, leaves for plates, a bouquet of violets hastily tied with a piece of grass; and tiny liken shaped like cups, for their morning dewdrops. For you see, just as my parents always had a cup of coffee when they awoke, so I imagined the wee folk would drink a jeweled dewdrop, warmed by the sun.
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A carpet of bluebell flowers grew in spring. In my dreams I heard the faeries playing wonderful music on the bell shaped flowers. Spring was a busy time for my imaginary friends. They colored the flowers, and tended baby birds in their nests when their parents would fly away to dig worms in the warm brown soil.
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In summertime, I found faery rings beneath the fir trees in the cool forest behind our home. Once I dreamed I danced with a winged prince, and the faery folk awarded me with a set of gossamer fairy wings. I dreamed the prince and I flew above the oak trees. I still remember how the trees and our home looked from overhead.
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I often saw star flowers bursting their blooms in the woods. They were beautiful, shaped like white shooting stars. In my imagination the faeries often wore these flowers in their hair. When the colorful spotted bug houses fell from the oak trees in the Fall, I imagined Gnome versus faery bugball games. Tournaments, where the victor won a crown fashioned of gold and red leaves.
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In wintertime I was sure I saw faery children joyfully sledding across the skies on big fat snowflakes. I saw their artwork etched in the ice on the windshield of my Dad's car.
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When I was in the hospital fighting for my life, I drew a picture of one of the faeries I imagined playing in the tops of the big oaks, as I remembered her from my childhood.
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I am so grateful for the fanciful imagination God gave to me when I was a little girl. Many of my drawings reflect that youthful imagination. To this day, in my mind's eye, I can still see the faces of my tiny faery friends.
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As the poet Kenney Merlo once wrote, "She sings a song that is simple and merry, God's littlest angel that He calls a fairy."
Angels are sent to protect people, especially the innocent and vulnerable. I remember when we were kids, my cousins, siblings and I stood together on the road, at the top of the trail to Deer Valley. But when we tried to go down into the woods it was like an invisible wall stood in our way. Every time one of us would decide to head down--a feeling of uneasiness, or fear would stop us like an invisible wall. We finally gave up. We went home and played games in the circle lawn instead.
