The Fairy Tree

Even the adults called it the fairy tree. Then they laughed and wandered away, following their busy children deeper into the park.

The little ones never laughed. They knew better. They were drawn to the tree with two trunks on their way to the fountain where the water vaulted heedlessly towards the sky. Those children waved to the tree then stopped at the fountain to giggle when the droplets splattered on their palms and sparkled like crystals. Others smiled slyly up at the fairy tree as they were lured to the choir of playful voices that rose from the bright forest of swings and slides and ladders.

The little sentinel was not the tallest tree in the park, but it had been there since the verdant patch had been overgrown by long grass and thorny scrub that hid stubborn boulders and busy animals. Amidst this jungle scurried the little people. Not the children, of course, but the very little people. They wove tiny homes at the base of the grass stalks and when the grass was long enough to hide them, the fairies laid on their backs upon the sun warmed boulders. They traced the clouds and shared the stories their elders had shared with them.

When the growling monsters, painted a deceivingly dandelion yellow, peeled away the bristling grass and shrubs the fairies sought shelter in the tree that was two trees. Worried for their refuge, the fairies laced their tree with wards and chanted spells of hardiness to the roots. They whispered enchantments that pulled the two trunks together for strength. When the toothy wheels of the noisy intruders finally rolled away the little tree was full to bursting but it was healthy and strong. Around the fairies’ home, the ground was seeded with soft green and connected by foreign pebbles. A tinny rainbow forest of swings and ladders had sprung up from a shifting bed of sand.

New noises drew the fairies out and they watched and whispered in awe at the busy, gleeful small people that swarmed their fresh green home. The fairies began to peek through knot holes and tiptoe about the canopy entranced by the half size guests that seemed to lead the big folk in a meandering exploration of the space. They waved and giggled with the small passersby when their guests paused by the fairy tree. The fairies were now too shy to brave the sun's brilliance, but they were filled with a boisterous new music. They began dance again. Skipping and leaping they used the soft cover of the moon to sneak into the park and poke awake mushrooms or sketch patterns on frosted puddles for the most curious of their wondering guests to discover.

While the tall folk are distracted, the fairies wave and wink from their tree at the little guests who are intent on leaving their prettiest rocks and brightest bouquets of clover against the trunks. Occasionally, one of the tallest folk studies the tree with the entwined trunks as though they suspect or remember that it is more than it seems to be, because everyone knows it as The Fairy Tree.