If You Build It, They Will Believe

She's been talking about fairy gardens for quite some time. I was intrigued by the idea, I'll admit. But the thing is, Burghbaby has a daughter. And furthermore, that little girl is the perfect age to delight in fairy gardens.

I love gardening. I love all things related to gardening. And making a tiny little garden that incorporates dollhouse sized fun is something I could really enjoy. But my daughter is 17, and making a fairy garden for her would go over as well as buying her a Barbie doll. (In case there's still a question in your mind, 17 year olds aren't into Barbies. AT ALL.) Even if the boys were younger, a fairy garden could be a really good time. But Micah is the baby, and he's 9. Luke is 11. And at 15, I'm guessing Josh would rather cut his index finger off with a butter knife than admit that a fairy garden could be kinda neat.

That pretty much leaves me out of luck in the fairy garden fun department.

But she posted about fairy gardens again, and how she made one for her daughter's bus driver. And it was darling. And so much fun. And that's when I had the revelation. Why do I need to make a miniature setup for the kids? Why can't I just do it for me?

So I did.

We've had this old, rusty, was-red wagon for years. I planted flowers in it, and last year Luke had his own personal garden in it. It's held up extremely well considering it's sat out in the weather for almost a decade, and is quite sentimental since we got it at a yard sale for Becky's antique-themed nursery when I was pregnant with her. What better use for it than to turn it into something fun and whimsical?

So I did.

The awesome thing about having a dozen gardens around the acreage is that I've pretty much got a plant for any purpose. And the awesome thing about plants is that they grow and spread. Taking a cutting here and a trimming there was needed anyway, and saved me from having to buy anything for my project. I laid Irish moss as lawn, and dianthus for a flower garden. Thyme makes for awesome shrubbery. And we all know that I have stones for any project imaginable. Smooth river stones make a fun path, and larger ones are good landscape boulders.

It was about this time that Luke realized I was doing something fun. He's my creative one, and he wanted in on the action. He got a blue dish to make a backyard pool, and then found a Lego shark to swim in it. Before the lawn was even finished, he planted a treasure chest out back, too. In my mind, I was all THIS ISN'T HOW IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE. THIS IS *MY* FAIRY GARDEN AND WE'RE NOT TURNING IT INTO A PIRATE ADVENTURE. And then I hushed my mind and reminded it that it was a very good thing that at least one of the kids was highly interested in what I was doing. Maybe fairy gardens really aren't too girly or juvenile for my boys.

So I joined in the fun, allowing my personal miniature garden to be boy-ified. I picked up the Army guy lying on the patio and planted him as a sentinel by the pond.

"Mom!," Luke said. "That guy is going to scare the fairies away. He can't be there." So I tossed him out of the garden and back onto the patio to keep watch over the ants and other things he's been in charge of recently.

So we continued on, Luke and I, planting this and arranging that. We got stumped at the house, and while I improvised until I could actually buy something that would work, we finished the project together. The stand-in house is a berry basket, inverted, and filled with dirt to encourage the growth of creeping thyme on the roof. But Luke wasn't happy. "How will the fairies live there if the house is filled with dirt?"

I stand corrected. If you build a fairy garden, they will believe.