When I was a kid there was a fairy ring in our front yard. Well, maybe it was more like half a fairy ring, but I loved it. I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer, but like many people, I didn’t have the easiest of childhoods. I read a lot and I read somewhere that fairy rings were portals and passageways into the land of Fairy. I read that if a mortal were to stand in the middle of the fairy ring that they would be taken away into the magical land of Fairy, where there would be eternal food and drink and dancing and magic and merry-making, and that all of the troubles and fears of the real world would be forgotten.
|Midsummer Eve by E.R Hughes.|
So when I’d go outside to take out the trash, I’d cut through the front yard and stand in that fairy ring. I’d clutch the trashcan close to me, being careful not to spill it. Or I’d set it aside and try my best to balance it.
I’d stand on the outside of that little ring of mushrooms. I’d breathe in the night air. I’d feel my heart beating quickly. My face would flush, my heart in my throat, my skin would grow warm. I’d close my eyes and I’d pray and I’d pray and I’d pray and I’d pray.
And I would step into that circle.