FLIGHT SCHOOL

 

On our Adventure walks, we’re always on the lookout for Fairy houses and activities, and so when we spotted this seeming scar on the tree,  we realized we’d happened on a treasure:  See that tall, thin line extending casually from top to bottom?  That is the Ingress:  the magical doors which slide silently back, revealing a perfectly wonderful scene---the many, many tiers of a Fairy School, its vast heights providing high halls in which the little flightlings practice their takeoffs and landings, their swoops and swirls.

The inside is one great chamber of dozens of towering ledges, some of each kind of surface from which a fledgling flyer might be expected to have to use for takeoff:  Grassy plains, with soft landings and gentle errors, til the little wings catch  their wind;  tree limbs and lacy bushes and crannies in the rock, as well as stony ledges over great chasms, as the little ones grow in verve and skill.   There’s even a water-ledge, its surges held magically from the overflow, each drop hanging precipitously yet never falling onto the balconies below, as the tiny mer-fae burst   from the water masquerading as minnows, spilling silvery droplets as they rise.

 There are delightful classes in floating down on frilly filigree of banisters, ornate brims of opera-boxes, shelves of books and shining glassware.   Specially chosen cadets are schooled in Royal Comportment and Matters of State, for gracing velvet cushions and behind-the-throne lounging ledges built into the back of every royal chair in every kingdom, for quick consultation or immediate dispatch, or just for the fun and honor of having such magical friends close at hand.

And there are indoor-type launches and landings as well, for learning the genteel art of set-down on carpet, stairs, marble floors of great halls.   There’s a special course in Hover-and-Float, for secret landings inside flowers or  behind sugar-bowls and muffin-stands on tea-tables.

  One afternoon features special guests, for it’s dedicated to alighting gently and safely on the shoulders of Folk-friends. 

All these charming scenes reside behind that pale green door, as tall as the gates of fabled cities, rising in tiers of colour and form, as the patient trainers lift and guide, console and cheer, teaching their wee charges to fly.

And when those doors glide open, the glitterings and gleamings, the magical spells and the delight of flight---those are too much for most eyes.  But when you’re lucky enough to be there for the opening---when you’re quick, and when you BELIEVE---THEN you’ll see something you’ll never forget.

           GRADUATION PROMENADE

                YUME CYAN