Fairies in the Park
In the park, I see a fairy. I catch sight of her from the corner of my eye, as she flits from branch to branch through the trees. She wears a dress of iridescent scales, adorned with emerald jewels. Once I spot her, she is not hard to see, at least for a little while.
I am walking on a little-used trail, one that meanders from the tennis courts up the hill toward the zoo. In summer, the courts are busy, but on this early April morning they are wet and deserted. My dog and I make our daily pilgrimage to the woods alone.
The trees tower above me, their height amplified by the hillside. They are a mix of fir and maple, tall and mature. There are dead snags too, some standing straight, some partially fallen, all marked by woodpeckers.
This is not a pristine wood. There are picnic tables and shelters, bits of litter scattered about, some dingy vans in the parking lot. Even so, it is easy for me to imagine this as the remnant of a once great forest. Remarkably, my imagination is true — the park is more than 100 years old, and the forest is a true, if faint, echo of what was once here.
Walking along, my mood is one of mild irritation. The dog, a beagle with a snuffling nose, has been dawdling horribly, determined to thoroughly investigate every one of the many scents he detects. This is tolerable so long as he stays more or less on the path, but every ten feet or so, he makes a determined lunge into the underbrush, and I have grown tired of the constant yanking on the leash.
But, as we crest the hill, and I catch my first glimpse of the fairy, I am content to stop. Fairies are of little interest to dogs, but, for once, he stands calmly; it is his turn to wait for me. And I watch, mesmerized, for a few precious seconds, as she darts and hovers amongst the branches of a young fir.
With her wand she lightly touches the needles, seeking for things smaller than my eyes can see. One, two, three quick stops, and then she is gone, swirling up to the tree tops, to a place I do not know and cannot follow. Grateful for her brief presence, my irritation has vanished. The dog and I continue with a spring in our steps, happy there is still magic in the world.
