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I watched fairies dance
in the midsummer twilight
waltzing with fireflies
and skimming through treetops.
It is true that they could have
been moths,
but as I stood in the shadows
with my children
all of us gazing upward in wonder
the sky deepening to night
I saw the certainty shining
in their faces,
the enchantment in their eyes
and I knew
without a doubt
that we were seeing the true nature
of these winged creatures.
And we will never forget what
it felt like to watch
real fairies taking flight
right before us
as we dared to name
the magic in the night.

Last week, my sister-in-law hosted a fairy tea party for our little ones at the river. We had an enchanting time eating tiny cupcakes and drinking sparkling raspberry-chamomile tea while wearing fairy wings as the sky dipped toward twilight. Then, we headed home and the kids asked me to stay out and catch fireflies. As we did so, a "fairy" suddenly flew across the sky in front of us and it is this experience that I share in my poem above. It was a priceless, magical, powerful moments with my son and daughter. The next day they wrote tiny notes of thanks to the fairies who let us see them and set up a fairy-sized tea party with tiny cups of cherry juice as an offering beneath the rose bush.

I was speaking with Laura Red Witch yesterday and she was telling me how magical it is to live in Glastonbury, England and walk amongst such sacred goddess sites and Arthurian legends. She also mentioned that area is a haven for fairies and having the energy of the wee folk around has been a beautiful blessings. Now that spring is here, we can all invite these delightful sprites in with fairy flora.

When planting your garden of enchantments, bear in mind that certain plants attract hummingbird, butterflies and fairies. The wee folk love daisies, purple coneflower, French lavender, rosemary, thyme, yarrow, lilac, cosmos, red valerian, sunflowers, honeysuckle and heliotrope. Folk wisdom handed down through the centuries claims that pansies, blue columbine, snapdragons planted in bed are a welcome mat for fairies and they can use foxglove, which means “folk’s glove,” to make hats and clothing as well as tulips for their haberdashery. They also favor sunny-faced nasturtiums. Fairies are also quite attached to certain fruit trees with pear, cherry and apple as their absolute favorites.  The hawthorn is one of the most magical trees. It marks the fairies’ favorite dancing places, and you should not cut or uproot a hawthorn unless you wish to incur their wrath. Keep your eyes peeled when these trees are in bloom as there are bound to be fairy folk about!

For about two weeks every May, a dreamy scent drifts throughout my neighborhood. The source is the common lilac (Syringa vulgaris), also known as French lilac. Most of the houses in my area of town are Victorians and the plethora of lilac shrubs are due to a long-standing tradition in North America to plant one by the front door. With spreading roots that tend to go out of bounds, lilacs end up in neighboring yards. Luckily, no one seems to consider this a problem and we all get to enjoy the sweet fragrance. The scent is beloved by so many people that arboretums in a number of states have a special event called Lilac Sunday.

Early spring is a special time for many reasons and one of them is the fiddlehead fern. Although ferns are common houseplants that have graced parlors and porches since Victorian times, there’s a magical aura about them when encountered in the woods. At this time of year, young ferns rise like wispy, spirited musicians presenting tightly scrolled stem tops that resemble the heads of fiddles.

Anyone acquainted with the long history of fairy encounters from the most ancient to Thomas of Erceldoune to now knows, as Graham Joyce would tell you, to be wary of the EDFF (extremely dangerous fairy folk). You wouldn't call them fairies either, if you had any sense. Be polite to the Gentry.

Yet in the past there were many men foolish enough to try to summon them as lovers.

Imagine that we were to discover an ancient Keltic tribe living in three isolated valleys up in the Alps.

Imagine that, through all the intervening centuries of the Great Interruption, they had, nonetheless, somehow managed to hold on to their Old Religion.

Amazingly enough—specifics aside—this not an imaginary scenario.

As the Indo-European-speaking peoples first entered the Indian subcontinent, groups broke off the main migration and settled along the way.

That's how the Kalasha, the last surviving pagans of the Hindu Kush, came to live in three isolated mountain valleys in what is now NW Pakistan.

Their religion, practiced continuously since antiquity, strongly resembles the religion of the Rig Veda, modern Hinduism's oldest scripture; some of the gods are even the same.

Alone among the Indo-European peoples, the religion of the Kalasha has never been subsumed by one of the Big Name religions. This small tribe of 4000-some people is as close as we will ever come to touching the old paganisms of the European ancestors.

As such, they have much to teach us.

It's a credo of the Fairy Faith.

If ever you should happen into That Land, Don't eat the food.

To eat it would be to bind yourself irrevocably to that world, from which you can “never return to your ain countree.”

Witches excepted.

All the stories agree that the Tribe of Witches are exempt from this taboo.

We have, shall we say, a special relationship with the Secret Commonwealth. As people of the betwixt-and-between, it is given to us to pass from world to world with something (dare I say it) akin to impunity.

Scottish witch Isobel Gowdie said of her visit to Elfhame: There I got meat, more than I could eat, nor did this hinder her comings and goings in the least.

Old Craft would have it that this right of free passage derives from being ourselves of That Blood, half-elven, from whence we draw our Otherness.