fairy nest

Once upon a time, there was a piece of firewood that suggested it was meant for different things than warming a house. We set it aside to let it decide what it wanted to be. It played for a while of different visions of its self: a Sasquatch foot, a goblin’s head, until it finally discovered that a fairy nest was what it wanted to be most of all.

We lugged out our treasure trove of mysterious doodads and set to gluing. We tested places and arrangements and did our best to think like a fairy, until at last our work was done. There are buttons and bottles, feathers and finery, sea glass and steel bolts: a dozen things to keep little hands amused and busy.

The only trouble now is convincing a certain little girl to let me play with it, too.

I must acknowledge the creativity of a child has impressed me, for she quickly converted the hanging bottles into a fairy belfry and the clockwork chain into a ladder that reaches the floor from our coffee table, just in case the fairy needs a break from flying, of course.