Midsummer Day dawns to a fanfare of birdsong against the backdrop of an early morning sky of pink and grey. Walking barefoot upon the spongy mounds of moss and grasses I revel in the thought of my feet being bathed in the purity of fresh morning dew. I kneel before a great Oak to scoop a handful of dew into the palms of my hands and splash my face with its invigorating coolness. As I open my eyes a flurry of Elderflower petals shower me from above and stick to my wet face. I look up and am sure I hear the childlike titter of faerie folk having one last laugh before the true day dawns and they are gone.

      I lift the rusty latch of my garden gate and step into a sea of blue Delphiniums broken only by the tantalising bejewelled swords of Lupins. The gate swings shut, creaking as it goes.

      The Sun rises, bringing with it the warmth of the day and all around me wakens. I sit in my chair under the apple tree and watch the parents of blue tit chicks flying frantically back and forth as they try to satisfy their hungry brood. A fox jumps the fence at the bottom of the garden and saunters casually along the pebble path to the pond where he stops to take a drink. I watch whilst he preens himself, his beautiful auburn fur glistening like treacle in the sunlight. He stretches lazily, gives a big yawn and then turns and saunters back the way he came leaving only his smell behind him.

     b2ap3_thumbnail_131112-fairy-1a.jpg I notice the glistening whiteness of delicate daisies nestling in the grass and find myself making daisy chains for the little girls who live next door. I hang them on the handle bars of the bicycles they ride to school. A present from the fairies.

      Time to pick some fresh flowers for my kitchen table and as I place them gently, one by one into my wicker basket the air is filled with the heady aroma of an English Summer.

      An apple falls from the tree and I hear its familiar ‘thud’ as it hits the ground knocking several others off their branches during its descent. Ah yes, June drop. All around the base of the tree lay tiny apples, the weak ones falling to make way for the strongest to survive and I stop to think how selfless and giving Nature truly is.

      I lean forward to pick a luscious strawberry, the month of June in a fruit and I notice a blackbird watching me patiently from the top of the blueberry bush. Don’t worry little bird, there is plenty left for you.

      As I turn to go indoors my skirt catches on the thorns of a rose bush that scratch me and draw blood as I struggle to free myself. Those faerie folk again and I look around me just one more time, are they watching? In complete defiance, I cup a beautiful bloom into both hands and draw it slowly toward me savouring the moment when this treasure yields its rich perfume and I am enchanted.

      Making my way back up the garden path I stop suddenly, there is something missing, the high pitched cheeping of the baby blue tits, all is quiet. Very slowly I make my way to the apple tree and peep inside the nest. It is empty, they have flown and so the wheel turns.

Blessed Be


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