Fairy Stories & Other Tales

       Marigold, the fairy of the flower by the same name, traped and traipsed atop golden buds that carpeted a most wonderful garden.  It was morning and the sunlight split through the tree trunks in a gentle, creamy yellow, sparkling on the dew drops that Marigold scattered amongst her flowers.        It was the kind of day that made Marigold feel that all was right with the world.  Every flower bud practically vibrated with life, the dew water clean and crisp, and the birds sang sweet songs, just as they should on such a morning.  The garden was in the best of orders, having been well-tended with great care the day before.         She took a moment to lean her back against a foxglove’s stalk at the edge of her marigolds to take in the beauty of it all.             Suddenly, a gust of wind and a hazy sheen overtoo...

       The creation of a home is no small task, for it serves to address a wide array of needs.  Perhaps it is the expectation that makes the work so complicated.  Perhaps such expectation should not exist.               But, for her, it does.        And when she first tripped up the stairs to her latest home, she felt the familiar cry of walls waiting to be adorned, and floors desiring to be furnished with furniture to cradle warm bodies; she felt the strong and overwhelming desire to help her little house offer love and warmth and strength and shelter to all who would pass through its emerald green door.  She would force it to yield its cozy comforts and turn it lovingly into a home.        She walked through each room, and made plans in her mind: that one would need a new table, that room two quite different nigh...