FAIRY CLOTHESLINE

HELLO FROM FAR AGO AND LONG AWAY!!    It's been such a long time since I could tend all the intricacies of my blog, and even the little needfuls, like posting pictures, or "Post" itself eluded me for a while.    We've just been perking along, with small and large adventures and mishaps and peaceful moments and scary health and a whole tub of Love at every turn.

Sis and my dear Brother in Law are here for a visit, flitting about across the country in their tiny perfect home that puts Mole's House to shame in its cunning wee perfection and comforts and fun.   We've sorted through wonderful pictures from a past far beyond us, with crumbles of yellowed newsprint floating down upon the table like golden snow as we read of past accomplishments, passings, parties, weddings, and inconsequential small happenings like a four-year-old's birthday party in 1958, down to the color of the candles on the cake. 

And she has put to rights all the workings of this wonderful machine which connects us to so many friends, so much knowledge and learning, and so much joy in the colors and thoughts of friends as they share their lives each day.     I sit in the porch shade most afternoons, letting my small tortoise Paxton wander around the sunny lawn, grazing here and there, nipping at clover, turning back to my voice when she nears the sidewalk.   She is such a sweet little companion, if a creature who cozies up to your feet in hopes of broccoli or grapes can be said to be companionable, and I find myself just sitting there with my phone, jotting things into the little Notebook section.

Little snips and bits float somewhere out there, with a small rhyme, a group of Southern sayings, a recipe that will make a cake if you measure everything in a yogurt cup, and other inconsequential little doings and sayings that seemed fairly important at the time, I'm sure.    One of the pages is another post in my great Love Affair with Fairies, and I've borrowed one of Janie's incomparable photos from Southern Lagniappe to illustrate the Fairy Clothesline.    Look at it, beautiful in its lush purple sway, with the fat blossoms flourishing  in the suns of Southern eons.   Look again.   Is what you see really what there IS?   Just IMAGINE . . . .

Down the stream beneath the trees, the Fairies wash their clothes with ease;

A tiny spell, a bit of soap, which smells of charms and flowers and hope,

Then to the clothesline draping wide, where all the garments fey are dried.

And scarce a happen-byer knows, that what they’re gazing on is clothes. 

Each purple swag holds dresses fine, as tiny blouses, pants entwine,

To pass for flowers or stems of grapes, they fool on-lookers with their shapes

Of fulsome fruitness, flowery blooms, instead of treasures from fey looms,

All stitched with moonbeams, needles gold, and gossen strands too fine to hold. 

The wardrobes wee, of fragile cloths, with iridescent dust from moths

And drops from dew and minnow shine, spread gleaming high upon the line.

The purples, royals, and the pinks, of dahlia’s tears and lovers’ inks

In dyepots stirred with spell-whirled spoons, and hung to dry beneath Milk moons. 

The sea and sky lend fairest hues, and rainbow’s BIV spins varied blues,

Whilst trees and arbors, lushest dells contribute to the greening swells

Which spread across the lines for strength, in lush profusion length by length.

And yellow, orange,  palest peach, all ride the breeze just out of reach 

Of all save those whose provenance enables them to join the dance

Of garments magical and twee, of ribbons pressed on cricket’s knee,

Of robes and circlets, orbs, tiaras, entitling them for all tomorrows,

To wear the magic, shining bright, and yet, still be immune from sight.

From my dear friend, Myrea Pettit