Fairy-Falls

The signs as fall aesthetics
  • Aries: bonfires, cinnamon, golden autumn sunlight, stepping on leaves and feeling them crunch under your feet, halloween
  • Taurus: tea lights, oversized sweaters, hot spiced apple cider, autumn wreaths, brown sugar
  • Gemini: forests filled with changing leaves, fall fairy lights, jack-o-lanterns, candy corn, crisp apples
  • Cancer: cozy blankets, red noses and cheeks from the cold, the first sip of a pumpkin spice latte, baggy clothes and messy hair, rainy days cozying up with blankets and warm drinks
  • Leo: boots and socks, caramel apples and candies, thanksgiving festivities and food, the feeling of drinking something warm on a cool day
  • Virgo: crisp air, pumpkin patches, rainy days, farmer's markets, the smell of cinnamon in houses and stores
  • Libra: the feeling of being bundled up, hayrides, Halloween candy, driving with the windows down on a cool sunny day
  • Scorpio: hardwood floors, hot chocolate, seeing your breath in the cold, Halloween decorations, roasting marshmallows on an open fire
  • Sagittarius: apple picking, fuzzy socks that keep your feet warm, walks in the woods bundled up in cozy clothes, the smell of fire in the cold, trick or treating at dusk
  • Capricorn: black coffee, overcast days, chilly mornings and nights, flannel shirts, pumpkin pie
  • Aquarius: jumping into piles of leaves, reading outside in the cool air, scarecrows, feeling the warmth of sunlight on a cold day
  • Pisces: haunted houses, drinking hot drinks outside on chilly days, apple pie, foggy days, frost on the leaves and grass in the mornings

What I like to call my “Autumn Fairy Dust” which consists of,

🍁left over bits of orange wax
🍁cinnamon
🍁nutmeg
🍁allspice
🍁sugar
🍁coffee grounds
🍁and plastic free glitter

All stirred around to create a blend of fall-scented fairy dust which you can sprinkle on top of tea lights or roll/dip anointed pillar candles into for a light and sparkly dusting ✨🕯

This fairy dust has flammable components. If you’re going to make and use it, you need to exercise appropriate caution and fire safety measures. I am not responsible or liable for any consequences that occur from your failure to do so.

Toad Words

            Frogs fall out of my mouth when I talk. Toads, too.

            It used to be a problem.

            There was an incident when I was young and cross and fed up with parental expectations. My sister, who is the Good One, has gold fall from her lips, and since I could not be her, I had to go a different way.

            So I got frogs. It happens.

            “You’ll grow into it,” the fairy godmother said. “Some curses have cloth-of-gold linings.” She considered this, and her finger drifted to her lower lip, the way it did when she was forgetting things. “Mind you, some curses just grind you down and leave you broken. Some blessings do that too, though. Hmm. What was I saying?”

            I spent a lot of time not talking. I got a slate and wrote things down. It was hard at first, but I hated to drop the frogs in the middle of the road. They got hit by cars, or dried out, miles away from their damp little homes.

            Toads were easier. Toads are tough. After awhile, I learned to feel when a word was a toad and not a frog. I could roll the word around on my tongue and get the flavor before I spoke it. Toad words were drier. Desiccated is a toad word. So is crisp and crisis and obligation. So are elegant and matchstick.

            Frog words were a bit more varied. Murky. Purple. Swinging. Jazz.

I practiced in the field behind the house, speaking words over and over, sending small creatures hopping into the evening.  I learned to speak some words as either toads or frogs. It’s all in the delivery.

            Love is a frog word, if spoken earnestly, and a toad word if spoken sarcastically. Frogs are not good at sarcasm.

            Toads are masters of it.

            I learned one day that the amphibians are going extinct all over the world, that some of them are vanishing. You go to ponds that should be full of frogs and find them silent. There are a hundred things responsible—fungus and pesticides and acid rain.

            When I heard this, I cried “What!?” so loudly that an adult African bullfrog fell from my lips and I had to catch it. It weighed as much as a small cat. I took it to the pet store and spun them a lie in writing about my cousin going off to college and leaving the frog behind.

            I brooded about frogs for weeks after that, and then eventually, I decided to do something about it.

            I cannot fix the things that kill them. It would take an army of fairy godmothers, and mine retired long ago. Now she goes on long cruises and spreads her wings out across the deck chairs.

            But I can make more.

            I had to get a field guide at first. It was a long process. Say a word and catch it, check the field marks. Most words turn to bronze frogs if I am not paying attention.

            Poison arrow frogs make my lips go numb. I can only do a few of those a day. I go through a lot of chapstick.  

            It is a holding action I am fighting, nothing more. I go to vernal pools and whisper sonnets that turn into wood frogs. I say the words squeak and squill and spring peepers skitter away into the trees. They begin singing almost the moment they emerge.

            I read long legal documents to a growing audience of Fowler’s toads, who blink their goggling eyes up at me. (I wish I could do salamanders. I would read Clive Barker novels aloud and seed the streams with efts and hellbenders. I would fly to Mexico and read love poems in another language to restore the axolotl. Alas, it’s frogs and toads and nothing more. We make do.)

            The woods behind my house are full of singing. The neighbors either learn to love it or move away.

            My sister—the one who speaks gold and diamonds—funds my travels. She speaks less than I do, but for me and my amphibian friends, she will vomit rubies and sapphires. I am grateful.

            I am practicing reading modernist revolutionary poetry aloud. My accent is atrocious. Still, a day will come when the Panamanian golden frog will tumble from my lips, and I will catch it and hold it, and whatever word I spoke, I’ll say again and again, until I stand at the center of a sea of yellow skins, and make from my curse at last a cloth of gold.

Terri Windling posted recently about the old fairy tale of frogs falling from a girl’s lips, and I started thinking about what I’d do if that happened to me, and…well…

5

what happens when a fairy princess falls for an actual greek goddess:a lesbian love story coming to theatres near u

me : i have to study hard and become a successful human being

kpop/anime/music/books/tvshows/movies/mangas :

kpop/anime/music/books/tvshows/movies/mangas : what

kpop/anime/music/books/tvshows/movies/mangas : oh, poor child