Seeing the first sign of spring that day was the first indication to Sarah that she was a watcher of the seasons. That spring she taught herself to be carefully observant as she went out to the garden to look for the subtle changes that took place over night. She was pleasantly surprised as new flowers in her mother’s garden came to life and brought their own color to the garden each in their turn; Crocus, Daffodil, Tulip, Lilac and the Iris. On the side of the house were the Lily of the Valley and the Violet, wildflower her mother had taken from the wooded land by her grandmother’s house.
Sarah’s neighbor Mrs. Myers was an artist and a gardener. She won awards for her landscape and beds of all sorts of plants and flowers. Sarah found the gardens around her house enchanting. There were rock gardens and stone pathways with bird baths that Mrs. Myers labored over. Mrs. Myers was very proud of her yard and welcomed neighbors to view her lovely work. She told Sarah she could visit anytime. There was only one rule, “please don’t walk in the flower beds,” Mrs. Myers would say.
In the summer while the sky was blue and the days grew longer Mrs. Myers hung Japanese lanterns on her patio lattice. Lights illumined the garden pathways and neighbors often strolled through her gardens as the sun set. Sarah would go there too just before the street lights came on, then she would run home. The most wonderful thing about the garden at Mrs. Myers house was the goldfish pond in the front yard by the garden entry way.
Sarah as by nature a shy child, but she liked Mrs. Myers. When Mrs. Myers discovered Sarah was an artist too she invited her to work in her garage on the potter’s wheel. Sarah learned to cut the clay and kneed it, cut the clay and kneed it until the air bubbles were removed and the clay was safe in the kiln. “Air bubbles will cause your pot to explode in the kiln.” Mrs. Meyers warned. Sarah spent many hours that summer in the garage with mounds of wobbly clay she carefully pulled into a pot or a bowl or maybe a cup.
Sarah took to sitting by the goldfish pond watching the goldfish waltz in the water. She studied the rocks and the plants and the garden around the pond. It seemed to transport her into another world. One day she was lying on her stomach in the grass looking at the goldfish when she caught her first glimpse of the fairy. Frozen with awe Sarah lay there for a long time barely breathing. She hoped if she lay still enough she could see the fairy again.
Sarah returned to the goldfish pond faithfully every night just before the sunset and the street light came on, the exact time she had first seen the fairy. She would wait as the fireflies flitted about for the fairy to return.
Sarah saw the fairy several times before the days changed and autumn came and she returned to school as a fourth grader. Every day as she walked home she passed the goldfish pond she thought of the fairy and wanted to speak to her if only once. If she spoke to the fairy would she answer? Sarah often wondered. It became a question that would not leave Sarah’s mind as she passed the pond day after day.
The first night that the wind blew in the cold and the world outside Sarah’s window was transformed by the frost she asked that question again, this time out loud as she fell asleep. “If I could speak to the fairy would she talk?”
In the morning when she woke up Sarah went to the window in her room to look out on the world through the frost covered window panes, she saw it. Scratched into the ice that covered her window in delicate and beautiful script were these words, Yes, if you talk to me I will answer, Flores.
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