Each year I await the quickening pulse of Mother Earth as she slowly wakes from Winter’s long, intoxicating slumber. Spring offers the rebirth of life in layers, unfolding in multitudes before watchful eyes. Each glimpse into the miraculous unveiling is a gift, for it is the story of life told in the narration of rebirth’s beauty.

After she delivers green in every shade, Nature births white in New England, followed by a tumble of colorful twins. I call these the fairy flowers, and await them more eagerly then the blooms I lovingly plant in gardens. For these are the gifts from invisible hands. The magic seen from a child’s sight.

No, I could never have a chemical lawn. Not just because I value a healthy body and a healthy environment, I find the uniformity of artificial green in one shade dulls the senses. I walk my mottled lawn each spring in glorious search, evoking the child within who still delights in magic, as I search for the gifts of the fairies.

Today that child-self received a long-awaited gift. I had waited 7 years for one particular, and quite common flower to appear on the earth beside my home. There it was, in two beautiful circles. Those tiny flowers that look like stars dipped into the palette of a waking sky. I could feel the fairies smile beneath the petals as the child within skipped in joy.