Fairyland

Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame! --William Butler Yeats

Spring has definitely taken a strong hold here on Vancouver Island. It's the time of year for cool mornings and hot afternoons. It's the time when my walk to work takes a little longer because I keep stopping to look at flowers and snails along the way: 

Whenever I stop to look at snails, beetles, slugs, or birds, I think back to a little girl in my class when I was teaching in Belfast. I took over a year one classroom for the last month of school, and the month's theme was "minibeasts," meaning the little creatures you find in your backyard. And this little girl was the sort of girl who didn't squeal at bugs or slugs or woodlice, but rather looked upon them with wonder, spoke of them wistfully and quietly as if she knew them all already. One of the other teachers remarked, "She's like a fairy child." And I knew what she meant. She was both delicate and strong, sweet and smart, and certainly not like the other children. I adored her. And I think of her often.

A few weeks ago, I signed up for a workshop to learn how to make tabletop puppets. It was a fascinating workshop, not anything like the Jim Henson world, but more about puppetry as performance art. Normally, I sign up for workshops and turn up in a whirlwind, just barely prepared with my supplies and not one bit ready to make anything planned. But for once, I planned ahead for what I would make during this workshop: I thought I would make a fairy.

I went to far as to gather supplies ahead of time and ponder how I would make wings. I thought about buying some dress-up wings for children, but I didn't really have the time to go wandering around to find any, so I decided to see if I could make some myself. I ended up taking pieces of cheesecloth and layering them with diluted glue to make light and flexible wing pieces:

 

At the workshop itself, we spent time sculpting our puppets. We practiced with makeshift puppets made out of paper first, walking around with them, making them look up and down and trying to figure out profiles, focus, expressions... and then we went to work with paper, masking tape, and paint to build a head. I knew mine had to have delicate features, high cheekbones, and a wide-eyed countenance:

We weren't able to finish everything during the workshop. I took home a head, a body, and some bits and pieces for limbs. I dug through my button stash to find eyes, and came upon these:

I sewed up a shirt from an old bedsheet, then mixed up paints, learned how to make doll-style hair, and dug out leftover fake flowers from my craft stash. A few days of paint and glue guns and needles and threads, and I was looking into the face of my fairy:

I put her out amongst the strawberry plants and let her look around. I love that her eyes are always gazing around her, always looking up and around, always noticing things that nobody else notices:

She feels like a part of me: a creature that doesn't always know where she fits in, but delights in the little things nonetheless:

It feels nice to make such a sweet thing. She reminds me so much of that little girl in my class. I do hope that she still has that sense of wonder. It's such a fragile thing in this world.

I'm off to go escape into my day dreams...