When the large bowl of pods had become a small bowl of peas, Elizabeth sat and listened to another challenge between old beliefs and what was possible. Old Maggie told her about the faeries who waited at mirknight, should she venture out to sit quietly in her yard in the middle of the night.
“The faeries have no need for answers,” the crone laughed. “They live in the joy of shifts and changes.”
“Will they come as simply as that?” Elizabeth asked. “Though they came when I lit the candle for my ancestors, I do not think they consider me part of their world.”
“There are three things to know should you choose to invite faeries into your days,” Old Maggie confided.
“First, they know when a person thinks them infradig; they will not respond to those who believe faeries are below human dignity.”
The crone smiled at the earnest expression on the woman before her.
“Next, you must know their language has no words for rife, sorrow, or cynicism. They have a hundred words for laughter and another hundred for joy, but they will not be able to communicate with a serious mind.
Finally, it does no harm to invite them with color. They like flowers, ribbons, sunlight on raindrops… anything that sparkles among their oak trees.”
