The neighborhood kids were off from school last week, and a few of them came looking for the fairy garden. I moved my miniature garden to the back patio in December to make room for Christmas decor. I never moved it back.
My son helped me carry it back to the front deck and the little ones got to work.
When I was six, our street ended where a field began. A nursery operated on the other side, so we enjoyed an expansive view. Across the street was a vacant lot that filled with weeds after the rain. With the freedom to roam that we had in those days, I remember gathering milk weed and clover and spending hours day dreaming while weaving creations with those glorious, green weeds.
It’s been years since I thought about that field, but it may explain my love of fairy gardening. Creating in miniature carries you back in time. It’s part wanderlust and a generous helping of nostalgia, but also a connection to a simpler time, of days spent belly down in a field of greens lost in thought until my mother called me home for supper.