Long ago when I was but a wee tot, my grandmother fed the imagination in me with all sorts of beautiful stories. I would spend the night at my grandparents house quite often. This was most likely to give Mom a break. I was the youngest of five and I can only imagine that Mom was rather exhausted at times. Still, I felt honored to be chosen to visit with my grandparents. They made my stay fun. There were times when Grandmother and I would wander out to her large wheeled lawn chair to get a bit of fresh air. I would sit in the old metal glider and listen to her tell stories. Some tales were of her childhood but others were purely fantasy. Although I was interested and listened dutifully to the "history" lessons, it was the madeup tales that I loved. When she would start anything with the words "Long, long ago", my ears perked up and my attention was focused on the story. Most often the stories were of faeries, pixies, elves or some other "wee folks" that lived in the gardens amongst the flowers. With an already overactive imagination, I could literally "see" the little folks prancing about the garden. They would hide beneath the leaves or swing from the ivy vines. Oh, what a happy place it was!
I am sure that most of the tales Grandmother told me were made up as she sat there. These were not from books or folklore but merely her brain at work. She could be inspired by a bird, butterfly or a flower that was in bloom. One of the tales involved the tiny blooms of the Forsythia bush. Granddaddy kept lovely gardens and in one corner of a large triangular flower bed was a large Forsythia bush. The bush never ceased to amaze me (and still does) with its bright yellow blooms that open long before any leaves make their appearance.
Grandmother's tale told of a small pixie named Annie. It seems that in the pixie world, each pixie was given a very special hat once they did something helpful. The hat was a symbol of that good deed. If say, the pixie showed unwavering love for the pixie community, the hat would be made of Rose petals. If the deed was one of bravery, the hat might be made of Nasturtiums. A pixie bringing joy to others would receive a hat made from a Pansy. Because she was such a young thing, Annie had not received her hat, yet. It seems that Annie was a happy little thing that only wanted to swing on the ivy vines. She would swing high into the air and then let go of the vine. On her way down she would bounce on the Caladium leaves before sliding to the ground. Despite the warnings of her mother, Annie would do this over and over again! "You will never get your hat if you do not stop playing so much!" her mother bemoaned! Still, Annie would swing on the ivy all day!
One day, the spring rains came. Annie hurried outside regardless of the wetness. She wanted to swing on her ivy! She wanted to bounce on the Caladium leaves and slide to the ground. When she reached up to the ivy, the leaves were too drippy. Water drained down on poor Annie until she was soaking wet! This caused her to sit down and cry. As she wept, she noticed that under the Caladium plants, a baby bunny was crying, also. It had lost its mommy! Oh, no! Poor bunny! Annie knew she had to help! She consoled the little rabbit and started the search for its mother. Finally, they found the rabbit family who were all frantically hunting for the baby. Annie returned the little one and all was well. She went skipping back to see if the ivy had dried enough for her swinging to continue. The rabbit family was so happy that they made a special trip to see the elders of the pixie clan. Annie deserved her hat and it needed to be a special hat! While relating the story of how Annie saved the baby bunny, Mother Rabbit made the remark that Annie's hat should be made of the brightest flower in the garden because she was so like a ray of sunshine. The elders then knew just what to do! Later that evening, a great celebration was held as Annie was awarded her Forsythia flower hat. The brightest yellow hat was placed on the tiny pixie's head and she was paraded around the garden. She was lauded as the youngest hero the clan ever had!
Usually, stories of this kind have a moral. This was not always the case with Grandmother's tales. Sometimes, hers were purely entertainment for a little girl. I always liked the thought that Annie, the pixie, might be living near the ivy in Granddaddy's garden. Many hours were spent peering under those giant Caladium leaves for any trace of a tiny little sprite in a bright yellow hat! I must confess that I never found her but I did see a baby rabbit under those very leaves! Perhaps it was one and the same!
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