Meeting the Flower Fairy

Princess Rose

After breakfast, Little Pine put the big fun bubble that the Spirits of Fun had sent for the elves in a pine cone basket and set off to find them.  That wasn’t always easy, particularly this time of year.  They could be anywhere in the woods decorating the stumps of fallen trees with bits of fungus and moss.  On Festival Day, all the squirrels and chipmunks would come to use them as drums during the Grand March and the elves always made sure that the drums looked as wonderful as they sounded.

He stuffed his pockets with more of the fun bubbles to pass out to anyone else he met along the way.  He would go to the elves’ house first.  Even if they were out working, he could give a fun bubble to Mother Elf, and she might know where he could look for them.  Besides, she would probably be baking treats for the festival, and she just might offer him a taste or two.

He was just two bends of the trail away from the Elf house when a flicker of color caught his eye.  And what he saw stopped him in his tracks.  “Wow! Hello!” he said to one of the prettiest little creatures he ever saw.  “My name is Little Pine.  Who are you?”

“Hello, Little Pine,” the fragile creature smiled.  “I’m Princess Rose, one of the flower fairies of the roses.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Have you come for the Festival?” Little Pine asked.  “I hope you’re not looking for your roses.  I’m afraid they’re all sound asleep this time of year.”

“Yes, Little Pine, I am here for the Festival.  And while it’s true that all the wild roses are deep in their winter dreams, in the nearby land where humans live, some roses grow even this time of year.  The humans keep them warm and fed in their own little indoor gardens.

“Humans have a special place in their hearts for flowers, and they’re especially fond of roses.  They give them as gifts to each other to celebrate all kinds of lovely things—love, friendship, achievements, the birth of babies.  And they give them as gifts of comfort in times of sorrow.

“They have their own versions of the Festival of Light and they will be sending roses to each other by the thousands.   My job is to encourage the roses to bloom their brightest and to give off their best perfumes, and to thank them for the beauty and joy they add to the world.

“But while I was in the area this year, I thought I’d stop in and visit your woods.  Your Festival is quite famous, you know.  I’m looking forward to seeing it.”

“That’s wonderful!” Little Bear said.  “Maybe you would like to be a part of the Grand March.  It happens at the very start of Festival Day, the day the Light returns.  All the creatures of the woods wind through the trees to the waterfall, and from there around the pond to the feet of Grandfather Pine, our eldest tree, and everyone joins in a song about the triumph of the light.  Do you think that you would like to join us?”

“That would be splendid, Little Pine!  Yes, I’ll gladly accept your gracious invitation, thank you.  I’ll see you again before them, I’m sure.  But right now I have to be off.  I’m meeting some of the other flower fairies for tea.”

“They’re welcome to be in the Grand March, too,” said little Pine.  “Please be sure to extend an invitation to them.  I offer it on behalf of all the creatures of the woods.”

“Why, thank you!  I’ll do that, Little Pine.  Until we meet again, may your eyes see beauty and your heart feel love.”

“Same to you, Princess Rose.  Oh!  And here, take this,” Little Pine said, reaching into his pocket for a fun bubble.

As soon as he handed it to her, it burst into a shower of laughter and sparkling pink, coral, red, white and yellow lights that looked like tiny roses.   “Happy Festival, Princess!” said Little Bear as he skipped off down the trail.

“Happy Festival, Little Pine!” she laughed as she fluttered her rosy wings and flew away, a shower of laughing lights trailing behind her.

Summer Song

Wild Sunflowers

The summer earth and summer sky are one now.
The sun rises in gold flowers, reaching toward the blue.
Chicory, the color of sky, reaches toward the sun.
And the sky falls into the waters and swims
with the greens that both fall below and rise.
And it’s all one breath, rising, falling, and all
one song of joy and celebration,  endlessly singing Yes.

 

 

The Gift

Peace Rose with Raindrops

Because words alone cannot tell you, child, how much you mean to me, how I cherish you, how I laugh with you in your joy, how I weep with you in your sorrow, please accept this small token of my love.

May its tenderness whisper to you of the gentleness with which I hold you in my heart.  May its beauty prove to you that, even in a world strewn with trials and thorns, you are not forgotten.

I, who create worlds upon worlds, know your name.  I dance within your every breath.  I know your every thought and each of your desires.  I am with you in your suffering and in your hours of celebration.

Because words cannot contain me, I send you this token of my love.  May its fragrance sing to your soul and bring you peace.

Farewell to Spring: A Happiness Tale

Sping's Final Sunset

Spring, satisfied with her accomplishments, spread a final pastel glow across the western horizon and softly began to slip away.

As she disappeared, all the living things over whose births she had presided rose in exultation to regale her with their songs of celebration and joy.  Every leaf and every blade of grass vibrated with thanksgiving.   Every petal of every blossom, everything that swam in the warmed waters, or that walked or crawled on the wakened soil, or that flew through the air joined in the grateful song.

And the song rose into the sky and touched the hem of Spring’s gown as she dissolved into night.  And in one final gesture of love, she swept the clouds away and filled the night with glittering fireflies and stars.

A Crescendo of Glory

Autumn Leaves

Autumn’s colors wave like flamboyant flags, one blending into another as if the whole woods were a dream.  Against the soundtrack of their rustling, crows caw, and overhead a great flock of geese wings southward through the wind-whipped sky.

The motion of it is staggering, a crashing crescendo of glory, the seasons trumpeting their triumph in one grand, raucous celebration before they rest.

And we who are here to witness pull it all into ourselves, even though it is larger than our minds can reach, and filled, we soar with its magnificent joy.

Spring’s Farewell: A Happiness Tale

Astilbe Blossom

Spring sent up a sparkle of bridal lace as a gesture of farewell.  All that was left for her to do now was to pass her reign to the Summer Queen.  Just one more day, and she would arrive and the sun would pause in the sky.

Once the transition was complete, Spring would return to the Great Hall of Seasons.   Flower fairies would greet her with songs and lead her to the seat of honor.  Then the festivities would begin.  It would be a glorious celebration with a panoramic review of all the beauty she had brought to life in her brief Earth stay.  And at its end, the gathered hosts would stand and applaud her for work well done.

She would rest then on a downy cloud and dream for a while.  Ahead of her was the grand journey to all the corners of the earth, where she would gather colors from the land and sea and sky.  And they would be her palette for her next Earth play, this one on the globe’s southern half.

But all of that was ahead.   Tonight she rested atop a hill and gazed out over the forests and plains, listening one last time to the evening chorus of the birds and watching the fireflies as they danced in the trees. And her heart was filled with contentment and joy.  And she was so grateful to be Spring.

The Endless Song

Lake with Water Lilies

Beauty is, they say, in the eyes of the beholder.  Perhaps.  And yet it spreads itself even where there are no eyes to perceive it at all, even when the eyes that look upon it cannot see that it is there.

This loveliness of autumn hues, this celebration of lilies on a lake, would have been here whether I had happened past or not.

The Great Yes sings itself because song is its nature; it shines in beauty because  beauty rises from its truth.  Its gifts are ceaseless and without measure, given because its nature is love.

Song of the Dancing Primrose

Evening Primrose.

.

Let us rise; this is our moment.

Let us sing forth our yes to the sky.

Celebration is the purpose of our being, the central why for which we came.

Now, while the great sun is deep in the sky, while the afternoon breezes play, let us dance our joy.

Let us reach and stretch and bend and sway in gladness.

Just to be here!

Just to be!

Singing the Sky: A Happiness Tale

Bachelor Buttons

As their buds opened and they caught their first glimpse of their home, what stuck the little flowers first was the bigness of the sky and how the blue of its noon was mirrored in their petals.

Looking around, they saw that their neighbors came in every hue and shade, some painted with the colors of dawn, some wearing the sky colors of a desert sunset.

“What a privilege to dance among such happy fellows!” they thought.  “How marvelous to be joining in this wondrous celebration, clad in the colors of the sky!”

And they sang to its infinity and they sang to its grace.  They sang to its love, which held all living beings.  Oh, this was the breathing of the Great Yes, this sky, come to life in their petals.

And they marveled at its ever changing beauty and were glad.

Song of the Daisies

DaisyLet there be no doubt, the daisies proclaim; you are loved.  Here, for you, is sunshine and freedom, laughter and joy.  Here is the sweetness of summer, brimming with nectar and the fresh scent of grass.  Here are the bright, long days and night skies billowing with fireflies and stars, all for you; all for you.

Let it be a stage for the unfolding of your highest dreams, your unfettered play, your most tender loving, for happiness flowing from the depths of your soul.

Embrace this season, dear ones, as it embraces you—in deep celebration and boundless joy.