The Fairy Tree: Part 1: The Door

Rebuild 9


When we were looking for a house in our home province after having been away for over 35 years, all we knew for certain was that I wanted to live in a place with trees and my husband wanted to live near water.Geographically, we ideally wanted to be no more than a half-day drive from our (grown) kids and no more than a half-day drive from my home town, where my Mom, sister and brother-in-law live.

Choosing the village was easy – and a whole magical story in itself – so all we needed was a home to live in. My husband was sure about the house right away. I – never one to make a hasty decision about anything – was hesitant. I am always looking for ‘signs’ and choosing this particular place was no exception.

It was the fairy tree that sealed the deal.

After we had visited the house with our real-estate agent, we parked the car nearby and went for a long walk with our dog. To get a feel for the village. To take the time to discuss the pros and cons: “It’s an older home – it’s going to need a bit of work”; “We don’t even know anybody here – what if people don’t like us?”; “What if we don’t like them?”.

My list of worries – as usual – was much longer than my husband’s and it had grown dark as we walked. There aren’t many streetlights in a village so it was becoming a bit difficult to see. We were heading back toward the car when I stopped dead. “Is that ‘our’ house?!” I asked in an excited whisper. By the time my husband had confirmed that it was, I was already halfway across the lawn, getting down on my knees to peer at the base of a huge tree sitting on the front lawn. Somehow, despite the century-old tree’s imposing size, I had barely noticed it when we had done the tour earlier. The house has a spectacular view of the river and that was all I had noticed.

“There’s a little door here!” I called out excitedly, from my dark refuge under the tree. “A fairy door! Holy cow, it’s a fairy door!” Sure enough, there was a triangular little door, perhaps a foot high, at the base of the tree. There was nothing fancy about it. On the contrary, it looked slightly unfinished: there were little sketches on it as though someone had intended to make something a little more ornate but then became disinterested in the project. Even the colours were ordinary – pine green and off-white – really, just the sort of door a fairy might use if he or she did not wish to draw too much attention to the dwelling within.

As we headed back to the car, I asked my husband if he could give me until the next morning for me to give my final answer about buying the place, but I realise now that the fairy door was all the ‘sign’ that I had needed.

The house was ours from the moment I spotted it…

Patti Moore Wilson/©


Author: Patti Moore Wilson, wednesdayschild2

I write what I feel. And I rarely know exactly what I feel until I write. I have lived long enough to have known many joys and many sorrows. I have made many mistakes; I have forgiven myself for a few… I have learned that there are lessons in every step of this journey, if we only take the time to pay attention… I hope you will feel free to pick and choose the stories that resonate for you…

5 thoughts on “The Fairy Tree: Part 1: The Door”

  1. I’m sorry…I didn’t see that you’d posted this. I had a friend growing up, who lived in a house called Wichwood (without the extra t) and her garden was a small wood. We played there all the time and there was a small clearing in the middle that had rocks with little caves in it. Inside the entrances to the caves were hanging ferns and moss and we called it the fairy houses. This blog made me smile so much. I would love to find MY house. I believe I’ll know it when I see it.

    Liked by 1 person

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