How to hear fairies – Pinesong

Most people don’t know this, but fairies often sing to the Moon.  For them, the Moon represents all that is beautiful and precious.  Of course, because of the curvature of Fae eyes, the moon appears a hundred times bigger than it does to us.  If we saw something that big rising over the horizon, we’d be awed, too.  So, fairy culture mandates that when respect or honor or awe is offered, it is done in song or chant.

There is a pod of Fae that regularly show up on my property, and sing at the full Moon.   I can’t go outside to listen, or they will slowly de-manifest .  So I sneak around the house and peer out the windows, especially around midnight.  (Fairies love those liminal times; not quite day, and no longer night.)  It starts with a sort of whispered cacophony, gradually taking shape into a chant.  The chant goes on for a while, then one by one, a single descant is heard above the others, in a perfect counterpoint.  The intensity builds and peaks, then after a while, the voices fade out, one by one, and the Moon has been properly honored.  There are a variety of chants, one for each phase of the Moon.

I have spent years developing the ability to hear their song.  But it began not with my ears, but with my heart and eyes.   Let me give you an example.  Have you ever driven into Yosemite Valley in California, and come around that curve that exposes Half Dome, a mighty granite face that has to be one of the most breathtaking sights in the world?  Or have you ever seen dolphins body-surfing just for the joy of it?  Or perhaps a huge wheat field blowing in the wind?  Those moments when you catch your breath in wonder is your recognition of fairy song.  Even though you think that response is coming from your visual cortex, it’s actually a response to what you are hearing with your “inner ears”.

fairy house cottage pine song
A fairy's eye view...

A good place to begin learning to hear fairy song is to stand beneath a pine tree when a wind is up.  Raise your mind up into the whispering needles, close your eyes, and listen for the song, embedded in the soughing of the wind through the branches. Call them with a small jingle-bell; roll it around in your palm. Listen, listen and listen some more.  Pine trees hold many fairies.

The Fae who live in my pine have asked for a purpose-built cottage.  The many steps leading to the front door strengthen their lungs for singing.  On the back side of the roof is a special Moon Window.  It is specially angled up so that a fairy sitting in the window seat can easily view the Moon.  The branches that reach out from this house are, of course, pine; they are from my huge pine tree that has been struck by lightning at least two times that I know of.   Very magical wood, that.  There is a string of tiny bells attached. (Fairies are very fond of bells.)  Somewhere above the front door is a special stone that will help you talk to fairies when you place your finger on it.  You just have to figure out which one that is…

Fairy house cottage Pine Song
This is PineSong

PineSong has been sold to a young musician.

Fairy houses for homeless Fae?

Pic of fairy house - Hollis Hollow
Snugged up against my Oleanders, Hollis Hollow is for the slightly wild Fae that live at the bottom of my garden.

I have a pod of fae that are trooping around the west side of my property.  I suppose they’ve always been there, even before we remodeled the house and extended the new kitchen out into their space.  Now my pantry is right smack in the middle of the fairy highway, and none of us are too pleased.

It started with unseen things that the cat would stare at, endlessly fascinated.  I would turn to look at that spot on the ceiling, but couldn’t see a thing. Then there were noises. Little scritching sounds, like that of a mouse scratching along a baseboard in an empty room. Noises that spooked the dog. He would jerk awake from a sound sleep on the living room floor, and stare down at a spot in the dining room. I heard the noises; rather like the quiet whisperings of those who really wanted to be quiet, and, if not for the sensitive ears of my dog, would have gone totally unnoticed.  I think at first they didn’t want to disturb; they seemed to never want human attention.

Then it progressed to moving stuff around.  Eyeglasses, keys, the remote, the good scissors. Never where I left them. We took it all in good humor, even to the point of asking them to return things they’d “moved”.  We would write very small words on tiny Post-It notes and leave them in the dining room, where most of the activity was occurring.  Usually they’d take the Post-It notes, too.  But once in a great while a “borrowed” item would re-appear in an unexpected place.

I determined that they needed a spot of their own, a little shelf in the dining room where I could leave notes, and little offerings of milk, honey, and fresh water.  It became a faery altar somewhere along the way.  There are a couple of phony faeries there, and interesting sticks, acorns, and tiny gourds. Plus some shiny beads that I got at a Mardi Gras party (and irresistible to the Fae).  They pretty much ignore it, but they do like the spring water. That was easy enough to live with.

Then I saw one.

It was about 3:00 in the afternoon, on a weekday.  I was home alone, and puttering about the kitchen.  I was at the sink and happened to glance out the huge window over the sink that looks out over the backyard and the mountain range behind our home.  Right in front of the window, on the walkway that led to the chicken coop, was a woman.  An old woman.  She was about 4 1/2 feet tall.  She had white hair that fell to her shoulders and moved with the breeze.  She was wrapped in a gray sweater that had a large turtleneck top that was pulled up high enough to cover her mouth and chin.  She walked past the window, never looking in at me, but simply moving straight ahead.  I froze, totally gobsmacked. She passed out of view to the left. When I regained my wits, I ran to another window 3 feet away, to see who in the hell was in my backyard.  There was nothing there, just a very still, slightly cloudy afternoon.  The hens pecked around in the dirt as if nothing had happened.  I went outside and continued the search; front yard, back yard, side yards, garage, up and down the street….nothing.  It didn’t escape my notice that she was walking on the west side of the property, near the newly remodeled area.  I mulled it over for a couple of days and what kept occurring to me is that she had a rather dignified homeless look about her.  Slightly unkempt, but regal, nonetheless. Had we displaced her and her kind by expanding our house out into the west side green space?  But what about the faery altar…wasn’t that an apology of sorts?   Apparently not.  What I think they want is a house.

fairy house faery faeries cottage Hollis Hollow
Close-up of the eaves at Hollis Hollow

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