There are Fairies at the bottom of my Garden
A Short Story by Susan Morrison Jones.
" Ever wondered if Fairies are real? Ever sat quiet at the bottom of your garden , waiting, waiting.....hoping that you would see one.
Did your big brother tease you for wanting to have a pair of wings? Was there EVER such a time? well was there? "
I moved into my new home on a cold and very wet September afternoon. I scuttled up and down the path, carrying boxes and bags, bits and bobs. All the while the rain poured down.
Have you ever noticed how rain can trickle down your neck, until it is the most uncomfortable, soggy, freezing cold and wet spot. Right in the middle of your shoulder blades.I noticed.
I also noticed the soaking wet socks on my freezing cold feet. The faint red tinge my fingers had from needles of rain slapping against my skin. I was particularly observant when the rain, in a last final deluge, came pouring in huge gushing rifts down the beleaguered drainpipe. The one I might add, that I had paused beneath to re-juggle the box which had begun to slip from my grasp.
All in all, it was not the most auspicious moment in my life.
My name is Jamie, I am a free lance photographer and had just transferred from the cold and wet North West of England, to the even colder and wetter North of Wales. The cottage I had bought, was my dream home. A modernised Long House of the old Welsh tradition with an enormous garden and only one neighbour for miles.
I had fallen in love with the cottage the minute I saw it. I didn't care about slipping slates off the roof, the broken old wooden fencing and the grimy windows. The tangled bushes and trees that had encroached from the ancient forest into my garden, held no fears for me.
I wanted the cottage and I paid a handsome price and looked forwards to the day it was mine.
Well today was the day it was mine. I was cold, wet, bedraggled and even with my furniture and everything finally moved in, the place didn't feel at all like mine.
I felt like an intruder. I stood on the worn slate floor in the kitchen and stared at the boxes. All I wanted was a hot cup of coffee and maybe a bite or two of whatever was available as an instant meal and I would make the place home.
By the time I had eaten, grabbed the duvet, erected the bed and finally slept , I was one exhausted free lance photographer.
I awoke to hazy sunshine struggling through the grimy window to caress my face. It was a pleasant feeling. I stretched and yawned a few times and began the days preparations. Loo, coffee, more coffee.
I began the delightful (I jest) occupation of unpacking and arranging my belongings into some semblance of order and running a small catalogue through my mind of the absolute necessities I would need to buy. Seeing as the nearest large town (and supermarket) was a good twenty miles away I didn't want to forget anything.
I had, of course stocked up on some things, but odd things, niggley little things I had forgotten would rise in my mind to mock my superior sense of 'being organised'....it was quite a list by the time I had finished my tasks.
Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither was my home, I fell exhausted into my comfy warm as toast bed and slept the sleep of the just once again. For a woman who hadn't slept properly for months, this was indeed the luxury and the pleasure of my first few nights. It was a welcome reprieve from the tossing and turning, pillow thumping restlessness I had suffered from for so long.
A whole month of doing the same things, day after day, followed. I woke, I moved things, I made lists. I drove the miles or I scanned the web and ordered...eventually I had a home.
I looked once more around my beautiful, bright and warm home. Pale walls, licked with a hint of gold from the sunlight, jewel colours in the curtains, the cushions, the rugs. Copper pans in the kitchen, gorgeous and shining clean pottery. All sorts of glorious nooks and crannies held the treasure I had collected through my life. Finally it was home and I went to bed with a happy mind.
The morning brought me sunshine and blue skies. Being out door's is part of my nature. I discovered a need to be outside was my plan for the day. So I donned appropriate clothes and picked out the garden tools necessary to get to the bottom of my garden.
The map that came with my purchase of this property, showed me the boundaries, which were blurred by the tangle at the bottom of the garden. I wanted to know how far the garden really went . Feeling a little like an explorer I set off.
Waist high grasses had freedom to grow right up to the back door but after thirty foot or so I discovered a low fence across the property with a damaged wooden gate hanging askew in the centre. Going through that brought me to a kind of dell, for around forty foot in length the land dipped down a good four feet, a lush (but overgrown) lawn set in a circle around a hearth obviously used for outdoor fires. This was surrounded by sloping higher walls of tumbling and again overgrown flowers. So many kinds it was a riot of colours and beautiful, even in its overgrown state.
Beyond this lay the real problems, nothing I had seen had posed any genuine problem beyond a little hard work over a number of months to bring under control But the bottom of this dell showed me the real challenges.
Trees, like a living wall across the whole of the land grew in varying ages, heights and widths. In between grew bushes,briar and wild roses, honeysuckle and huge spear shaped bracken's, almost, it was impenetrable.
I approached it with hesitancy. Aware that such a tangle could hold some of the wild life Wales was so famous for. Deer 'might' be in there but that was doubtful with such overgrowth but Fox and Badger definitely. I had no desire to come across an unwary animal I had no real understanding of, so poking my scythe at a few bracken to hack them down was a hesitant and procrastinated event.
Finally I had begun and made a whole twenty feet into the woods when something amazing happened. It stopped, all of it and I stepped into a sunny glade. Dappled light, short grass lay like a velvet carpet between enormous trees. I could hear a rippling stream somewhere to one side. The glint of a small pond lay just ahead and behind that.......was 'the' tree.
The King of the forest, a giant Yew Tree. Grown to its full potential height, its heavy dark green branches swept down to the ground making it impossible to gauge the true width of its trunk but certainly it was wider than I had ever seen in a Yew, a good twenty foot in circumference was my guess and around that tree lay nothing but the deep green velvet grass for a few yards. In splendid isolation the tree stood proud and free of encumbrance.
I gazed spell bound, it was truly beautiful.
The Fairies hardly caused a ripple in its splendid canape.
WHAT ! rewind, re-read...yes I said Fairies. I said I was spellbound...I truly was. Before me lay a city, built in a tree, for beings no larger than twelve inches in height. They flew on gauzy jewel coloured wings, wearing wispy clothing, tiny feet encased in little shoes and hair flowing like silk behind their tiny heads as they went about their business. They seemed totally oblivious to my presence and I stood entranced.
I'd tried pinching myself incase I dreamt this. It hurt so I guess I was wide awake. The sun shone warm and golden rays down onto this dreamlike scene and I remained as still as I could. Eventually i couldn't stay still, eventually my own curiosity overcame the shock and eventually I used that ancient of ways to announce the self in company your unsure of...I gave a genteel cough.
The effect was.............electrifying. Mid flight Fairies swooped towards me, turning fast ; like giant insects. Right in the centre of what had become a veritable flying cone of gorgeously attired, furious looking mini people; was what could only be the King of them.
He had an enormous looking sword, a good four inches in length and the edge was where my shocked gaze had pinned itself.......it looked very very sharp.
The Fair of Fairies halted, their wings making a curiously pleasant humming sound as they swooped and swished their owners hover. The piping voice of the King (for that was indeed who he was) demanded I explained myself and was asked where was Old Annie (the former and now sadly dead owner of the cottage).
I explained her sudden exit from their lives and the entire group swooped to the ground and landed in an exotic coloured carpet of tiny people, all devastated and wailing or crying in the old Celtic way of grief.
I won't detail every moment, simply the little people were genuinely upset and spent some time expressing their grief.
The Kings wife arrived, a gorgeously attired glittering and beautiful woman who stood a proud twelve inches in height, matching the King and she wrapped her arms around her husband in comfort while holding a conversation with me.
The upshot was, that once the first shock and grief passed I was invited to view the Yew Tree close up and converse intently with my tenants. The Fairies had lived in this tree from its first decade. That took some time for me to take in. These people were hundreds of years old.
They had been aware of every single tenant of the cottage, watching it being built, the families who had lived here. Annie had stayed in the cottage from her birth, for 92 long years. She was fully aware of the Fairies, had kept their secret all of her life. The strange codicils attached to the sale of her home now made so much sense.
I had,had to prove I was open minded, capable of discretion and had an artistic nature. Of course as a photographer I had the artistry I also kept my clients secrets. I never sold on the images that showed people in bad light or less than their perfect media images and i could prove my open mindedness by giving a list of the books I read which were a series of varied genre to say the least.
I viewed the Yew Kingdom with awe. Such beautiful and graceful architecture. The branches carefully grafted to grow literally grow, into rooms or cave like dwellings. The leaves were so shiny, the deep red berries carefully polished. The exterior of the tree was one of superb health and completely beautiful as a specimen of its kind.
The interior, the trunk which was hollow as was the nature of the yew when ancient. That was filled with a veritable city of apartments, ledges. Tiny insects flew around lighting the entire place with a delicate golden light which emanated from their bodies.
The stairwells were a graceful curving and beautiful sculpture of tiny branches crafted into steps and rails. Lanterns hung in the deepest of the trunks recesses. All around the entire structure hung glittering and sculpted decorations, gold and silver were the preferred metals with copper and occasionally glass included.
The smell of cooking spiralled up the centre of the trunk and when I cast my gaze downwards i saw a busy and very efficient kitchen about three foot across and huge cauldrons of a delicate stew were bubbling away. So they ate together. rather like a tribe or a clan. This was additional information to that I had already garnered.
Structured as a society, tribal in their ways, lead by a royal line. Incredible. I so wanted to fetch my camera but i knew it would never happen...or would it?
I was accepted by the Royal family, they trusted me, something about my aura apparently, showed them I was being truthful when I promised to be like Annie and keep their secret.
I did get to take their pictures. I publish them now and again, often I am complemented on how wonderfully clever my people wear the makeup and am asked where 'they' 'Joe Public' could buy the prosthetic wings I use as they are 'so lifelike'.
Apparently no one has cottoned on that my images are truthful depictions of real Fairies....instead I have an on line following of thousands who carefully buy the prints of my various portraits. I did very well out of my portrait of the King and expect to do equally well from my beautiful Queen who visits me often.
She likes Darjeeling tea and Battenburg cake by the way.
I have an on line name, and I protect my IP address with a handy app. My publisher has to write to me to a P.O. box and I would never tell a soul my address.
Its enough for me, to spend as much time as I can with my tenants, and the money I make...why I buy up the land around me.
I own quite a bit now and each time I add to the woodlands wealth because the Fairies immediately 'wood' the land, spread their magic and in such little time I have a fully functioning Fairies Land. New trees are being grafted into new homesteads for more Fairies. The word has gone out amongst the little people and they are moving into my land as soon as they can.
A safe haven has been absent for many Fairies for centuries. Not since the long march from Scotland to the Haverfford West seaport had the Fairies in the 18th Century, had they been open in being seen by the 'otherfolk' (us).So far I have a small city, soon it will be a Metropolis of Fairies.
Now I have to find a partner, one who is open minded, artistic and able to keep a secret. I see the King and Queen, so happy together and you know something...I want that for me too and Fairies, need children to keep the faith alive , follow in my footsteps;because i do believe in Fairies, I do, I do......
A Short Story by Susan Morrison Jones.
" Ever wondered if Fairies are real? Ever sat quiet at the bottom of your garden , waiting, waiting.....hoping that you would see one.
Did your big brother tease you for wanting to have a pair of wings? Was there EVER such a time? well was there? "
I moved into my new home on a cold and very wet September afternoon. I scuttled up and down the path, carrying boxes and bags, bits and bobs. All the while the rain poured down.
Have you ever noticed how rain can trickle down your neck, until it is the most uncomfortable, soggy, freezing cold and wet spot. Right in the middle of your shoulder blades.I noticed.
I also noticed the soaking wet socks on my freezing cold feet. The faint red tinge my fingers had from needles of rain slapping against my skin. I was particularly observant when the rain, in a last final deluge, came pouring in huge gushing rifts down the beleaguered drainpipe. The one I might add, that I had paused beneath to re-juggle the box which had begun to slip from my grasp.
All in all, it was not the most auspicious moment in my life.
My name is Jamie, I am a free lance photographer and had just transferred from the cold and wet North West of England, to the even colder and wetter North of Wales. The cottage I had bought, was my dream home. A modernised Long House of the old Welsh tradition with an enormous garden and only one neighbour for miles.
I had fallen in love with the cottage the minute I saw it. I didn't care about slipping slates off the roof, the broken old wooden fencing and the grimy windows. The tangled bushes and trees that had encroached from the ancient forest into my garden, held no fears for me.
I wanted the cottage and I paid a handsome price and looked forwards to the day it was mine.
Well today was the day it was mine. I was cold, wet, bedraggled and even with my furniture and everything finally moved in, the place didn't feel at all like mine.
I felt like an intruder. I stood on the worn slate floor in the kitchen and stared at the boxes. All I wanted was a hot cup of coffee and maybe a bite or two of whatever was available as an instant meal and I would make the place home.
By the time I had eaten, grabbed the duvet, erected the bed and finally slept , I was one exhausted free lance photographer.
I awoke to hazy sunshine struggling through the grimy window to caress my face. It was a pleasant feeling. I stretched and yawned a few times and began the days preparations. Loo, coffee, more coffee.
I began the delightful (I jest) occupation of unpacking and arranging my belongings into some semblance of order and running a small catalogue through my mind of the absolute necessities I would need to buy. Seeing as the nearest large town (and supermarket) was a good twenty miles away I didn't want to forget anything.
I had, of course stocked up on some things, but odd things, niggley little things I had forgotten would rise in my mind to mock my superior sense of 'being organised'....it was quite a list by the time I had finished my tasks.
Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither was my home, I fell exhausted into my comfy warm as toast bed and slept the sleep of the just once again. For a woman who hadn't slept properly for months, this was indeed the luxury and the pleasure of my first few nights. It was a welcome reprieve from the tossing and turning, pillow thumping restlessness I had suffered from for so long.
A whole month of doing the same things, day after day, followed. I woke, I moved things, I made lists. I drove the miles or I scanned the web and ordered...eventually I had a home.
I looked once more around my beautiful, bright and warm home. Pale walls, licked with a hint of gold from the sunlight, jewel colours in the curtains, the cushions, the rugs. Copper pans in the kitchen, gorgeous and shining clean pottery. All sorts of glorious nooks and crannies held the treasure I had collected through my life. Finally it was home and I went to bed with a happy mind.
The morning brought me sunshine and blue skies. Being out door's is part of my nature. I discovered a need to be outside was my plan for the day. So I donned appropriate clothes and picked out the garden tools necessary to get to the bottom of my garden.
The map that came with my purchase of this property, showed me the boundaries, which were blurred by the tangle at the bottom of the garden. I wanted to know how far the garden really went . Feeling a little like an explorer I set off.
Waist high grasses had freedom to grow right up to the back door but after thirty foot or so I discovered a low fence across the property with a damaged wooden gate hanging askew in the centre. Going through that brought me to a kind of dell, for around forty foot in length the land dipped down a good four feet, a lush (but overgrown) lawn set in a circle around a hearth obviously used for outdoor fires. This was surrounded by sloping higher walls of tumbling and again overgrown flowers. So many kinds it was a riot of colours and beautiful, even in its overgrown state.
Beyond this lay the real problems, nothing I had seen had posed any genuine problem beyond a little hard work over a number of months to bring under control But the bottom of this dell showed me the real challenges.
Trees, like a living wall across the whole of the land grew in varying ages, heights and widths. In between grew bushes,briar and wild roses, honeysuckle and huge spear shaped bracken's, almost, it was impenetrable.
I approached it with hesitancy. Aware that such a tangle could hold some of the wild life Wales was so famous for. Deer 'might' be in there but that was doubtful with such overgrowth but Fox and Badger definitely. I had no desire to come across an unwary animal I had no real understanding of, so poking my scythe at a few bracken to hack them down was a hesitant and procrastinated event.
Finally I had begun and made a whole twenty feet into the woods when something amazing happened. It stopped, all of it and I stepped into a sunny glade. Dappled light, short grass lay like a velvet carpet between enormous trees. I could hear a rippling stream somewhere to one side. The glint of a small pond lay just ahead and behind that.......was 'the' tree.
The King of the forest, a giant Yew Tree. Grown to its full potential height, its heavy dark green branches swept down to the ground making it impossible to gauge the true width of its trunk but certainly it was wider than I had ever seen in a Yew, a good twenty foot in circumference was my guess and around that tree lay nothing but the deep green velvet grass for a few yards. In splendid isolation the tree stood proud and free of encumbrance.
I gazed spell bound, it was truly beautiful.
The Fairies hardly caused a ripple in its splendid canape.
WHAT ! rewind, re-read...yes I said Fairies. I said I was spellbound...I truly was. Before me lay a city, built in a tree, for beings no larger than twelve inches in height. They flew on gauzy jewel coloured wings, wearing wispy clothing, tiny feet encased in little shoes and hair flowing like silk behind their tiny heads as they went about their business. They seemed totally oblivious to my presence and I stood entranced.
I'd tried pinching myself incase I dreamt this. It hurt so I guess I was wide awake. The sun shone warm and golden rays down onto this dreamlike scene and I remained as still as I could. Eventually i couldn't stay still, eventually my own curiosity overcame the shock and eventually I used that ancient of ways to announce the self in company your unsure of...I gave a genteel cough.
The effect was.............electrifying. Mid flight Fairies swooped towards me, turning fast ; like giant insects. Right in the centre of what had become a veritable flying cone of gorgeously attired, furious looking mini people; was what could only be the King of them.
He had an enormous looking sword, a good four inches in length and the edge was where my shocked gaze had pinned itself.......it looked very very sharp.
The Fair of Fairies halted, their wings making a curiously pleasant humming sound as they swooped and swished their owners hover. The piping voice of the King (for that was indeed who he was) demanded I explained myself and was asked where was Old Annie (the former and now sadly dead owner of the cottage).
I explained her sudden exit from their lives and the entire group swooped to the ground and landed in an exotic coloured carpet of tiny people, all devastated and wailing or crying in the old Celtic way of grief.
I won't detail every moment, simply the little people were genuinely upset and spent some time expressing their grief.
The Kings wife arrived, a gorgeously attired glittering and beautiful woman who stood a proud twelve inches in height, matching the King and she wrapped her arms around her husband in comfort while holding a conversation with me.
The upshot was, that once the first shock and grief passed I was invited to view the Yew Tree close up and converse intently with my tenants. The Fairies had lived in this tree from its first decade. That took some time for me to take in. These people were hundreds of years old.
They had been aware of every single tenant of the cottage, watching it being built, the families who had lived here. Annie had stayed in the cottage from her birth, for 92 long years. She was fully aware of the Fairies, had kept their secret all of her life. The strange codicils attached to the sale of her home now made so much sense.
I had,had to prove I was open minded, capable of discretion and had an artistic nature. Of course as a photographer I had the artistry I also kept my clients secrets. I never sold on the images that showed people in bad light or less than their perfect media images and i could prove my open mindedness by giving a list of the books I read which were a series of varied genre to say the least.
I viewed the Yew Kingdom with awe. Such beautiful and graceful architecture. The branches carefully grafted to grow literally grow, into rooms or cave like dwellings. The leaves were so shiny, the deep red berries carefully polished. The exterior of the tree was one of superb health and completely beautiful as a specimen of its kind.
The interior, the trunk which was hollow as was the nature of the yew when ancient. That was filled with a veritable city of apartments, ledges. Tiny insects flew around lighting the entire place with a delicate golden light which emanated from their bodies.
The stairwells were a graceful curving and beautiful sculpture of tiny branches crafted into steps and rails. Lanterns hung in the deepest of the trunks recesses. All around the entire structure hung glittering and sculpted decorations, gold and silver were the preferred metals with copper and occasionally glass included.
The smell of cooking spiralled up the centre of the trunk and when I cast my gaze downwards i saw a busy and very efficient kitchen about three foot across and huge cauldrons of a delicate stew were bubbling away. So they ate together. rather like a tribe or a clan. This was additional information to that I had already garnered.
Structured as a society, tribal in their ways, lead by a royal line. Incredible. I so wanted to fetch my camera but i knew it would never happen...or would it?
I was accepted by the Royal family, they trusted me, something about my aura apparently, showed them I was being truthful when I promised to be like Annie and keep their secret.
I did get to take their pictures. I publish them now and again, often I am complemented on how wonderfully clever my people wear the makeup and am asked where 'they' 'Joe Public' could buy the prosthetic wings I use as they are 'so lifelike'.
Apparently no one has cottoned on that my images are truthful depictions of real Fairies....instead I have an on line following of thousands who carefully buy the prints of my various portraits. I did very well out of my portrait of the King and expect to do equally well from my beautiful Queen who visits me often.
She likes Darjeeling tea and Battenburg cake by the way.
I have an on line name, and I protect my IP address with a handy app. My publisher has to write to me to a P.O. box and I would never tell a soul my address.
Its enough for me, to spend as much time as I can with my tenants, and the money I make...why I buy up the land around me.
I own quite a bit now and each time I add to the woodlands wealth because the Fairies immediately 'wood' the land, spread their magic and in such little time I have a fully functioning Fairies Land. New trees are being grafted into new homesteads for more Fairies. The word has gone out amongst the little people and they are moving into my land as soon as they can.
A safe haven has been absent for many Fairies for centuries. Not since the long march from Scotland to the Haverfford West seaport had the Fairies in the 18th Century, had they been open in being seen by the 'otherfolk' (us).So far I have a small city, soon it will be a Metropolis of Fairies.
Now I have to find a partner, one who is open minded, artistic and able to keep a secret. I see the King and Queen, so happy together and you know something...I want that for me too and Fairies, need children to keep the faith alive , follow in my footsteps;because i do believe in Fairies, I do, I do......
