Have you ever met a Wood Sprite? She dances, flickering like a firefly ‘mongst the trees. She breathes the forest. Her laugh rustles with the leaves. Her hair braided and curling like so many vines, grappling. Her eyes possessing a light, like the sun sparkling through foliage. Of course, I met one. And I took her picture.
My first sight of her was when she emerged from a thicket of vines, having just applied mascara and checked her phone. Oh, I should mention, modern Wood Sprites have phones.
She was timid at first. She was afraid that, being a faery, she wasn’t going to show up on my camera’s sensor. Just as I raised my camera to test the theory, she exclaimed “wait!” in her magical, bell-like voice.
“I’m don’t think I put my lip gloss on.”
She took out the applicator and, using her phone as a mirror, applied the sheen.
“If you’ve done a selfie, you’re probably going to show up on my camera too.” I warmly chided.
“Oh, good point,” she giggled, the giggle of a giggling stream. Before I knew it, she had climbed a fallen tree and was perched in gracious majesty, like the queen spirit of the forest admiring her queendom. For the forest is the domain of the queen of the Wood Sprites. She is pure and untouched by the world. The woods sustain her and she needs nothing else. This wild, natural growth keeps her fed and clothed and supplies her life-force. She is one with nature.
“We’re getting pizza later. Which is good. I’m starving,” she speaks in her ancient, mystical tones. Just then, a quiet hum breaches the silence which once clung to the leafy air. She sits between two giant trees of unknown genus. (“Their spirits exist beyond what mankind has chosen to call them,” she lilts.)
The hum continues, seconds at a time. Is it coming from her? She closes her eyes as if to meditate on it. It’s as if these trees are speaking to her. It’s as if she’s communing directly with nature.
Ah, I can truly see it now. She is the spirit of the forest. She is a truly mystical creature.
“What is this hum, I hear? From whence doth is linger?” I whisper, completely taken with the moment.
She snaps out of her tree-hugging (literally) trance. “Oh! That’s my phone!”
She quickly runs around looking for it. “What was that?”
“Oh, they’re just checking what I want on my pizza.”
The kind eyes of the Wood Sprite see all that happens in her wooded world. They are only ever closed to pray for the saplings to grow strong, to pray that the leaves find their way safely to the forest floor and, I assume, to blink. The forest is very alive, but there is death and danger that lurks hither and thither too. Alicia, in her spiritual wisdom, loves all of her queendom’s peaks and valleys. She is in tune with the softest moss and the hardest spike of a torn root. She loves the precious fawn and the even the creepy spider.
“Hold on, hold on! Don’t take a picture! I think I have some bark in my sandal,” her voice is carried throughout her home on the cool forest breeze. If you ever have the chance to spend time with a Wood Sprite, frolicking peacefully in her habitat, one with nature, truly living in tandem with the eternal forest, do it! You will grow in ways you couldn’t imagine, like the mighty oak. She will change you, like the ever-changing undergrowth. “Can you drive me back to the city now? I don’t want my pizza to get cold,” her voice sang as if it was beckoning all of nature’s spirits to join us.