Caroline is 8 or 9 years old and lives on the island in an old historic home/cottage with her parents, Rob and Sundae, her brother, Emmett, and her one year old sister, Mariah Daisy.
She is full of spunk and energy and bursting with ideas. (No TV for those children!!)
I wore my best fairie dress with my crown (of course) and carried a small hand-blown vase as a gift to Caroline for a fairie bouquet. She was still adorning the table as I rapped on the door and I needed to wait patiently for a moment or two.
The house had been transformed into a fairy wonderland with fairy wings and notes and pictures in all the corners of the house. The kitchen table was adorned with pink netting attached to the lamp and circling the table. (After the day's events it was to make it's way to Caroline's bed!) Her fairy collection was gathered about on the table as well as plates and napkins. Sundae was busy finishing up the blueberry tortes, holding on the Mariah and carrying on a conversation with me as well. Sundae is a gifted Mama as well as a gifted writer...so much to talk about! Although on this day, the top was fairies. Where do they live? What do they eat?
Our luncheon was perfect....fresh strawberries, grapes, fairie tea sandwiches, Jordan almonds, fairie tea, and the blueberry tortes. Following lunch we went out into the garden to build a fairie house. The rules are simple...all natural materials found in the garden or the woods although you cannot pick anything! Sundae became the hunter/gatherer while Caroline and I built the fairie house. It was a lovely house...full of sticks, hydrangeas, day lily seed pods, seashells, gardenias, pinecones...the inside had small tables of shells and beds with moss. If I were a fairie, I would definitely live in the small, tastefully decorated home.
By mid-afternoon it was time to meander on down the pathway on my bike. Saying my good byes, I tucked my long fairie dress under me and took to the dusty lane. It was a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.
I just wonder....who visited last night by the light of the moon? Will we ever know?
Lou Ann Homan-Saylor lives in Angola, Indiana which is nestled in the hills of Northern Indiana and spends her summers on the wind swept island of Ocracoke. You can find her gardening or writing late into the night under the light of her frayed scarlet lamp. She is a storyteller, a teacher, a writer, an actress and a collector of front porch stories.