It’s always the thing and the thing and the thing. This is what the little troll thought as he pulled out of the school parking lot and headed towards the coffee shop. It’s hard to live in a house where the only sane creatures are your dogs. No humdrum domestication here. No, Sir. This was a full on three ring circus. Emceed by She Who Really Must Be Obeyed, herself, Brynhildr, his better half, his Valkyrie, condemned to living the life of a mortal woman and making him pay for every single minute of it.

And while it was true that Brynhildr was still stuck in their remote castle behind a ring of fire on the mountain, she was definitely not sleeping. Nor did the ring of fire seem to be keeping anyone away. There was always someone with problems descending upon them. And most of the time his wife came and went as she pleased. Topanga has an excellent fire department just down the hill. No ring of fire could keep this woman down.

However, she had long ago grown weary of the hardship of her fate and she wanted help with the mortgage. That part she had made quite clear. While she hadn’t thrown a boulder at him since the unfortunate instance on the Boulevard last year, she could still throw a mean spear and one day soon, if he didn't get a role of some substance and support, he knew she would throw it at him. Brynhildr always got the last word.

Fortunately for him, she still kept her second husband’s cloak of invisibility in her closet.

And lately, without her knowing, he had taken to wearing it.


The quinces in the garden are blooming. In this intoxicating perfume, Fairy watches the children slide down the muddy slopes through the sour grass on their snow sleds, trampling the clover. Fortunately it is a hardy weed. She laughs to see the boys stop to suck the smelly nectar from its yellow flower. She follows them to search for tadpoles in the rippling creek but can find none. They scour the bare branches of the deciduous trees looking for owls’ nests. Using a broken hoe, they explore a hole in the ground and find nothing. Winter is reluctant to leave this year. She wishes she had the time to stop for such things at least once a day.

But all the fairies know that at any time now the bumblebees will come back to Topanga for spring. There is so much work to do to get the beds ready for their arrival. For what would the fairies do without the bees and the honey they make?

The Elf tries not to nag his fairy but she is behind on a few chores. The birds need their nests blessed. The trees want blessing for their buds to promote new growth. Gently, he scolds her that Mrs. Spider has been back three times to ask that she come bless her web on the bare root rose where hundreds of her spider babies cling. She wants it done before the winds blow and scatters those tiny orange spinners out to face the world on their own.

The lupines need opening and the orange poppies too; the yellow tobacco wants dusting. Elf says this, pointedly, as he brings her a cup of tea in her favourite china. He tells her that not only has her friend in Old Canyon who has just had her fourth baby found the time to pull open several of the lupines on her road as well as some tulips but the beleaguered fairies on the Boulevard have also managed quite well with their wisteria openings. Fairy feels rather unaccomplished.

She gives her dear friend the lizard a new tail and a lecture to stay away from the cats before she goes back to bed. Sixty degrees at noon is not her idea of a spring day. She is no April fool. Elf makes a nice cozy fire with his magic driftwood powder and follows her in to her chamber. He knows his fairy; she will get it all done in her own time. This is why he cherishes her.






Things for a mortal to do once the storm has passed:

Make a lattice for the sweet peas.

Put some bone meal on the perennial border and cultivate it.

Spray the delphinium shoots with Bordeaux.

Finish pruning the bush roses.

Buy a new pair of gardening shears and find a hiding place for them.


With this in your mind, you may go to the market to make gingerbread on parade for afternoon tea.

You drain the juice from one can of mixed fruits and put the fruits in a well-buttered baking pan. Mix and sift two cups of flour, one teaspoon ginger, a quarter cup of sugar, a quarter teaspoon of cinnamon, three quarters of a teaspoon of baking soda. Add a quarter cup of shortening, one cup of molasses or golden syrup, one egg and half a cup of sour milk which you will stir until smooth. Pour the mixture over the fruit and bake in a slow oven.

Serve cut into squares and covered with whipped cream. If the sun comes out in the late afternoon, take a walk into Red Rock, but avoid the urge to go in the creek. Even the fairies cannot bathe for weeks after a rain. The frogs are not sure they want to stay. The humans do love their grey water.