The Fairy, the Lady and the Oak

A small bump of earth amidst the gravel caught the Oak Fairy’s eye.

She’d been so very sad since the oaks and pines were taken from her hillside meadow. Now stark, cream colored houses stood upon a flat, desolate plane where once there was rolling hilly nature.

Perched on twenty feet of imported fill, the cold, impersonal housing development kept the early morning sun from reaching the older houses downhill. At night they reflected their streetlights into the back gardens and windows of the older residences, banishing the gentle darkness of the night. An ugly, grey concrete-block wall held the fill in place, looming above the ravaged back gardens of the older homes that had ringed the ancient meadow.

The ground preparation and building of the new housing tract caused great pain to the Meadow Fairies and the people who lived around it. The meadow creatures fled as their homes were destroyed by the smashing and wrenching of the great machines that roared and clambered there. For years the engines’ noises overwhelmed conversations and blew clouds of dust into the air. Homemakers couldn’t keep up with the mess and wept helplessly and silently at the dusty, dirty, noisy chaos their lives had become.

But now, this tiny bump in the ground, this small swelling of earth, brought a bit of hope to the banished Oak Fairy.

And this hope gave her the strength to bless this tiny place with her fairy magic. She stayed nearby, hidden under the great spreading arms of a rambling rosebush to keep watch over this courageous new life and protect it from harm. She blessed the nourishing dew that fell upon it each night. She sang happy songs to it while she bathed in sparkling dewdrops in the morning light, snug in the curl of a rose petal.

Two years before, a squirrel was running as fast as he could away from the earth moving machines when they tore into and crushed his meadow home. In his flight, he dropped an acorn he’d planned to stash in his favorite hiding hole. In the seasons since, the little acorn found enough dirt, enough water and enough sunlight to begin growing into an oak tree. The tiny fairy knew the small bump of earth her sharp-eyes had spied was the growth of the acorn and the beginning of a brand new Oak Forest.

Though the hard, unfriendly soil had been covered by a thick layer of weed-proof black plastic and a layer of ugly white rock for 30 years, the roots of the baby tree had reached and pushed their way through tiny cracks in rock, plastic and earth and found sustenance there.

The Lady noticed the tree when it broke through a barren patch of white rocks in her front garden. She recognized its two bright shiny new leaves and knew she’d been blessed. The Lady loved trees and cherished this new one, knowing it could bring back the lost meadow and its wildlife.

She had been removing the horrid white rock from her garden bit by bit and replacing it with beautiful green plants and brightly colored flowers ever since she moved in. The rock had been used to create curving pathways around the new plantings and was going to be replaced eventually with brick and paving stones.

Now that she had to make room in her plans for the oak tree, the Lady curved her pathway a little more to accommodate it. She watered, trimmed and watched it grow. In a few short years it was much taller than she and had begun to shade the ground beneath it.

All of this growing and caring and new life pleased the little Oak Fairy who had been growing stronger too. She found some of her scattered Fairy friends and they all moved into the Lady’s garden and helped it grow. The flowers there were brighter and grew more quickly than in other gardens in the neighborhood. Children liked to wander into the garden on their way home from school and the oak tree attracted birds that gathered in its branches morning and evening to sing their ancient songs.

The air became more moist and nourishing to Fairy Folk, plants, people and wildlife. On special nights, the Fairies gathered in the Oak and partied there until dawn. Tiny flickers of fairy light danced among the branches as the wee folk gathered strength and numbers again.

Over the next few years the Oak produced acorns of its own which fell to the ground below. The Lady left a few to grow and collected the rest to give as tiny-tree gifts or grow in pots as pampered Bonsai treasures. The Oak and the Lady and the Fairy Folk lived in peace and increasing happiness and prosperity as the years passed and they gave love and strength to one another.

Early one summer morning, the grandchildren of the lady came to visit and played under the Oak which had spread its great loving arms across the whole garden. Once branch was perfect for swinging from, another nearly touched the ground and became a ladder for the children to climb up into the tree and build a fort, deep in its branches.

All summer the oak stood proudly hosting happy groups of children, birds and fairies in turn. In the morning and evening stillness the Lady sat at a little table under the oak, enjoying a quiet cup of tea and giving thanks to the squirrel for unwittingly planting the tree. She watched the sunset light grow red through its branches and the stars begin to dot the darkening sky.

Sometimes she slept under the tree, at peace with the world and filled with happiness. She knew her love had made the garden possible and had watched the children of her now mighty Oak grow to fill the hillside with the sound of their rustling branches, busy squirrels and darting birds.

She knew also of the first Fairy who had cared for that small bump in the earth, loving its oaky promise. She’d seen the fairy flashes on bright starry nights and was glad in her heart that the tiny folk felt safe in her garden. She had left wild places there where they could flourish in peace and they were grateful to her for this courtesy.

On the nights the Lady slept in the garden the Fairies gathered in the tree branches above and sprinkled Fairy dust over her. They blessed her and kept her well as thanks for her constant love of the meadow life they cherished above all else.

So my dear children remember the Little People and their need for wildness and space to be their free-spirited selves. Honor the places where they dwell and above all else, honor the trees. They are the hosts of life in many forms, the makers of the air we breathe, the moderators of our climate, the Old, Still, Holy beings of our world. Love them and they will bless you forever. Plant them everywhere – all kinds, all places and you will make the world new again.