Stone Hill Homestead

The confusion on the homestead concerning the ban on fairy flight has finally been cleared up. Something happened here on the farm on the day of summer solstice. I was not home that day as we were off to Cheney Lake that day with family, so I have had to glean my information from a variety of sources. Here is the story as best as I can discover.

Every summer solstice the animals and garden people gather for a party — held in the barnyard so that the cows can attend. They were mainly refs this year because last year one of the racing events ended up almost tragically. Freyja won but several ducks ended up quite traumatized and their fairy handlers were shaken. Sir Timothy and Freyja were not on speaking terms for days after the event because Freyja insisted that he had said to turn right when he insists he said left. This happened before Sir Timothy had left on his  Great Adventure last year and before I was aware of his presence on the homestead. All that to say, the animals garden people were in the barnyard on summer solstice.

The specific event was a race around the perimeter of the barnyard. All the flying critters were to fly two laps, first one to buzz across the red gate won. Several call ducks, about a dozen fairies, and Crispus had signed up for the event.  The call ducks had been practicing for a week. The fairies had been buzzing rapidly around the homestead quickly all spring and were strong and ready. Crispus, however, had a different way of preparing. He ate toasted moths and dreamed about winning. There was no real testing of his stamina, unless how many toasted moths one small dragon can fit in his tummy counts. (According to the tally marks I found behind Freyja’s stanchion, it was a total of 57 for the week preceding the Festival.) He came to the race extraordinarily plump — I know this because Matilda whispered it to me in a horrified tiny voice.

Crispus came  full of moths and full of himself. When the Night Gardener fired his tiny pistol into the air to signal the start of the race, Crispus started his first lap by toppling ungracefully off the top rung of the gate and nearly hit Freyja’s freshest cow pie face first before his wings caught up to his ample girth to lift him safely into the race.

The fairies won the race without much competition.

Constance came in first, followed closely by Matilda. Behind them came Felicia and the rest. The call ducks were surprisingly quick but they had not expected to beat Crispus.

Crispus had not expected anyone to beat him. He flew over the red gate, panting and puffing sparks, and then his wings rebelled against his tubby girth and dropped him unceremoniously into the aforementioned cow pie. He was led away to the water spigot by Hazel and Bella the goats and Sidney the duck. The goats turned the water on and Sidney pushed him under where he sputtered steamed and sizzled until she told the goats it was enough for he was clean. And the fairies? They laughed until their sides ached. They tried very hard not to but when one very tiny fairy choked and snorted very loudly because she could no longer hold it in, they all let loose. It was the joke of the day and Crispus could not live it down.

Crispus crept into the barn and hid there, sulking and angry. For three weeks he replayed the event in his mind. He remembered everything. It made him bitter and vindictive. Eventually, a plan formed in his mind. He would get even with those fairies.

By now you have a pretty good idea of who put the ban on fairies flying. But I’m out of time to finish the story tonight. I don’t have any pictures for this story either. But then again, I wasn’t there to take them. Check back in to see how Crispus executed his nefarious plan.