I’ve planted a fairy garden. When I planted it, I told Tim that I was planting it as an Aunt and the nieces and nephews would enjoy looking at the tiny little garden. “What fun they’ll have” I said, “We can pretend we have fairies!” It was all very exciting and I’m pretty sure I convinced Tim that it was for the nieces and nephews. I kind of convinced myself as well.

What I quickly realized- was that the garden is for me. Sure, I’ll let them look at it and let their imaginations run wild for as long as they’ll let their imaginations run. But I really like the idea of having a tiny little garden- no vegetables to harvest or branches to prune. Just a little garden where I can let my own imagination run free.

After some thought, I realized that my first impressions of fairies come from my paternal Grandmother. When we visited her in Port Townsend, Washington, she’d take her grandchildren who were young enough to “believe” to see the Fairy Garden. It was a gated little garden with butterflies and wildflowers. Nothing too organized and some of the flowers and weeds were higher than us as children. The gated area was long and narrow – I remember it being in the middle of a larger park. We’d wander to various parts of the garden on our own. We could barely see the tops of each others heads as we scattered and looked for the fairies. I could usually only see the back of Grandma’s head or the back of her blue sweater as she doted on one of us, encouraging us to look and probably hoping we’d expend all of our energy before going home. We’d look for the fairies with earnest and never find them. Though, I’m fairly certain my cousin Billy may have seen a fairy or two.

The possibilities of seeing something magical took my breath away. Even more so, looking back, being a child, full of wonder and encouraged by our Grandmother was wonderful. She encouraged our imagination and the possibility of what is unseen. “Where are they?” I’d ask her. She’d say to look harder, that they were all around. Perhaps we thought we were seeing fragments of light, or a butterfly, or a dandelion seed. But really, they could be fairies! We’d look harder and imagine what couldn’t be seen (except for Billy- he saw them). And who knows? Perhaps Grandma truly thought we were seeing fairies too and she just wanted us to see what she saw.

After we visited the garden, we’d get ice cream at the local ice cream shop or we’d visit one of Grandma’s artist friends. Or perhaps we’d go home to her home where she’d always have activities for us to play and things to do that were almost just as mystical as the fairy garden.

That’s what I’d love for my nieces and nephews. I’d love to have something “magical” that I can imagine with them. And even though they are all pretty young still and may want to eat the dirt more than play imaginary games, I’ll continue building my garden. Just like my Grandmother- I want to only inspire. And perhaps, just perhaps, I’ll see a fairy.