It is the time of year when the robins return to my garden. I
first know this by their song. They begin singing before dawn
when the morning star is just rising, and sing the sun all the
way up. Then they begin again at dusk, not stopping until the sun
is down. It is also the time when the faeries come back into the
house and garden. You can hear a faint tinkling sound at dusk,
out among the tangle of last year's wildflowers. They begin
tidying things up and planting new seeds. The next morning
you can see faint imprints of their silver slippers in the dirt.

Late at night, when everyone is asleep they come into the house,
and if you wake up and are still as still can be, you will hear
their saccadic song following their lithe movements. They are
dusting, and lining up pairs of shoes. In the morning the glasses
sparkle, as if stardust was left behind. They are not bothered by
how the garden is still dead from winter and the house is messy.
They are like Matisse, and want to echo beauty. (Matisse said he
wanted to make paintings so beautiful that when you came upon
them all your troubles would subside).

Before they leave, the faeries add some marks to my painting
and carefully wash my brushes.

********************************************************************** Sending you wishes for the new beginnings of spring,