There are small magic creatures in my garden. By day they seem normal, little black beetles with orange red edges to their heads. At dusk they transform into little fairies. They flit about the sky leaving little trails of light.
I had a friend in college that claimed to believe in unicorns. I scoffed. He said the world would be such a dull place without magic. He had to believe in it because the alternative was unthinkable. I tend to that thinking when I see fireflies lighting up the twilight sky. Surely they aren't fireflies. They must be fairies. It was hard to go to sleep one night as I watched one of these fairies that had gotten into my bedroom and was blinking messages to its cohorts outside. "Save me the evil princess has me trapped."
I think one of the reasons gardening attracts us so much is its magical nature. The peonies first bloom this spring comes to mind. The enchanting scent of the lilac wafting on the breeze. And who hasn't waited with baited breath for the magical first tomato of the season. Today my daughter and I bought locally grown strawberries again (2 quarts this time since the last quart lasted less than 24 hours). We made strawberry sherbet together. That first bite was spellbinding.