The Fairy Tree: Part 1: The Door

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/© wednesdayschildca.wordpress.com

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