Legend has it that on the first full moon with the season’s first freeze, the holiday faeries awaken from their months long dormancy and come out into the clear night air to play and rejoice in the meaning of Christmas. Naturally they need accommodation following their tiresome celebrations of flitting about the skies much like hummingbirds with tails of fireflies so they seek out a castle whose Laird and Lady have been kind to the bairn and, of course, God’s creatures.
I’ve noticed that during some years I have arisen from a nice, late night nap only to wonder if I’m perhaps still dreaming. Although sugar plum faeries, elves on shelves and other such canards don’t usually cross my mind, I am amazed at the glow of the Christmas lights and the lingering scents from the Missus’ evening meals as I wander into the kitchen for a drink with thoughts of a quick trip through the doggie door to survey my yard out back.
If not before my brief exit, then certainly after, I can’t help noticing the glow in the rafters of the great room. There, quietly enjoying an evening of slumber, are the faeries. It’s not uncommon for Lula Belle to be curled up fast asleep under the Christmas tree and Pop dozing in his chair since the Missus has typically long since retired to bed.
I cherish these times and feel grateful that I live here. As, no doubt, do the well fed deer, horses, cattle and the others of fur, feathers and fins that call Rocky Creek their home, too. May you all feel as blessed and loved.