The Fairy Campground

The "Big" campground in progress...build it, and they will come.

A real campground is developing in my garden.  Last year when I had a big fir tree felled, I had a tremendous amount of wood to make use of.  After having cords and cords split and stacked, there were still many many rounds of wood to find purpose for.  I did, however, know what I wanted to do with the base of this huge tree, about 4 ft in diameter.  I had the arborist leave the trunk 3ft tall...then cut at ground level.  I knew it would live again in my instantly conceived campground as the "Giant's Picnic Table".  Getting it rolled down the slope to the newly cleared area by the creek was quite an undertaking, but once there, on a prepared site, overlooking the fire pit, the creek and the imagined rustic gazebo, the place took on a life of its own.
When I walk down there now, still a work in progress, I can "feel" the space as another magical place I can travel to on a whim.

This campground thing has deep roots in my childhood, too, another element to "plant" in mon paradis.  Camping in the big tree woods in California (Yosemite, San Bernardino Mountains, Sequoia National Park) remain vivid in my memory.  Girl Scout camp, scavenger hunts, pancakes and bacon in a cast iron skillet over an open campfire, STARS by the kabillions, the scent and crunch of pine needles underfoot...bliss.  Sadly, my first husband found camping repugnant, having had a bad first experience,  so I never got to share my wonder of the woods with my kids.  Now... now, Gramma, you get to share it with your granddaughter!  Yea!
Kali loves to tromp down there with me, or with her friends to show them "our campground".  We discuss where the swing will hang next summer, how to position the tent for the "view" (she doesn't know it yet, but if I have my way, it all be a rustic gazebo), and how big the fire pit should be.  We consider how to get enough stones down there to make a pebble "beach".  The look on her face while we discuss these things tops my "Life's Satisfactions List".

 We watch and wait for fairies...

Sometimes what seems like a bright idea can turn into a quite an undertaking.  Ignorance and innocence can partner up ("I had no idea"), clash and bang about for a while, and then serendipitously become something wonderful.  This little project is hardly a pimple on the great thinker's brain, but for me, this holiday season, I was taken by pleasant surprise on a ride I hadn't anticipated.  I decided to create a miniature fairy campground for Kali to play "in" during the winter when we couldn't go outside.  The idea seemed so perfect for all the reasons revealed here...what I didn't realize at the time, however, was that I would meld so completely into the project, that I would spend countless hours and dollars gathering the perfect elements for the thing, and that it would become an important recollection of the feeling of wonder and delight I experienced so many years ago.

The real campground is about 40 ft by 30ft, the miniature is 2ft by 2ft.  Somehow, I managed to include "The Big Wood Lookout"  (a long-deceased wild clematis root), "The Mossy Wood" (birch "trunks" and lichen), "The Log Footbridge" (another clematis vine), "The Golden Butterfly Tree" (An old tree ivy branch), and "The Dream Arbor" (Cornus sericea from the creek).  I embellished the landscape with bits of bark, pebbles and mosses from our big garden, too.  "The Potager of the Impossibles" (Of course fairies can grow cockles, and polka-dotted red mushrooms and pumpkins the size of gumdrops...)  This turned out to be quite a Christmas gift...for me and my granddaughter ("It's awesome, Gramma!")

The Fairy Campground...build it and they will come.

cat nap

It's cold enough now to send me shivering inside...fingers and toes numb, unable and unwilling to touch the clammy mud and muck out there.  Wonderfully, however, there is a winter garden to enjoy, and a lovely sense that the scene will grow and expand over the years as my sensibilities sink deeper and deeper into this earth.

The cornus sericea 'midwinter fire' which I boldly coppiced for the first time last March, sprang up beautifully and is now a lovely presence in the third terrace, blushing deeper as the cold increases, having already illuminated the space with a clear golden crown a month ago.  She begs for company.

The red clover cover crop tossed in the potager has sprung up into a lovely emerald carpet, surrounded by the bay topiaries, the parsley ruff, the alpine strawberries and my under-construction wattle borders.  The chartreuse urns, though empty of their summer abundance now, help give the place the permanent presence I wanted for this important part of my world.  It looks grand from all the windows into the rear gardens.

I have strung the cornus alternifolia with tiny white lights and Queen Katsura 'pendula' as well.  Suddenly the black hole outside the windows at night have become a magical fairyland.  My neighbors across the creek have lighted a tree in answer.  The dark wood now sings.

I still have a few chores outside, a few vulnerable plants to heel in or haul in or tuck in...tools that need attention...yet things have slowed down so much, nothing seems urgent anymore.  The moles who wreaked  havoc in my lawn last month have finally settled down in their burrows, hopefully not amongst some vulnerable roots. The garden is snuggled in for a long winter's nap.