Butterfly Bushes
There is something magical about being in a flower garden. The sweet smell of freshly bloomed flowers, the cool earth on your fingertips, and the butterflies that decorate the brightly colored butterfly bush make gardening delightful.
I noticed footprints around my butterfly bush; these were not usual footprints; they were tiny. It could be a fawn. Close to the butterfly bush? What kind of footprints could they possibly be? My mind wants to say it is a small wild rabbit.
While I watched the sun’s rays kiss the butterfly bush flowers, I heard something — I jumped. Did it have wings? I don’t know of anything that flies to have footprints like that.
Filled with curiosity, I look throughout the rest of the garden, hoping to find this little critter who wanders around my butterfly bush. Nothing. No other footprints or signs of creatures with feet that could wear shoes.
It’s too early to water my colorful flower garden. I need a nice cold glass of sweet tea; maybe it’s the heat of the afternoon sun going to my head.
The garden is lovely: beautiful coneflowers, baby’s breath, and various other blossoms. My garden is beautiful.
I wonder about those footprints, like a bandit in the night; voila, they have disappeared. Did I imagine them?
When I was young, I looked for fairies in the garden with my mother; I can remember that like yesterday. Where did the time go? I look at my aging hands and think maybe my mind has left some of my youth. That little winged creature, was it from a distant memory?
Betsy lives down the road by the town stream. She always wears a floppy hat and funky sunglasses — some say she is odd, but I say she is wonderfully eccentric. How can anybody be strange and greet you with a delicious cupcake?
“Hi, Betsy. Are you visiting to share a new and exciting story?” Betsy always has a story to share.
Betsy began to tell a story about how she witnessed fairies gathering pedals from her flowers and collecting morning dew drops. She said that she believes they are getting ready for a baby fairy princess to be born. “Did you know,” Betsy asks, “that butterflies guard the fairies?”
I nodded and continued listening to her wisdom about fairies and their activities.
“Sometimes, there aren’t enough butterflies to protect the royal fairy family during this magical time. So they collect nectar and pedals from butterfly bushes and offer them to the butterflies in hopes they will protect the fairies. The fairies must have offered a generous gift — many butterflies visit my yard.”
Betsy took my hand, “Come on. Let’s go!” I ran alongside her. As we approached her yard, there must have been hundreds of butterflies!
“She is here,” announced Betsy, “the baby is here!” She giggled with delight.
Betsy led me to the far back of her garden by the stream, “Look,” she pointed to a hole in a willow trunk, “Look!”
With curiosity, I look into the willow and see tiny winged beings. They were in awe, surrounding an elegant fairy holding her new baby, “Princess Fayette,” the mother kissed the newborn’s head.
Whether I lost my mind or not, it doesn’t matter; the beauty of this madness is that fairies used my butterfly bushes as gifts to fairy princess guardians.
THE END
Yonna Alvarez & Mojha MacDowell
2021
