Say the words “we’re going on a hike” to the girls, and we are met with immediate groans and complaints.  “Hike is just another word for walking!  LONG, HOT WALKING!”  Wow.  I guess  Greg DNA + Lori DNA = Wimpy Kids.  And the only way to cure a case of the wimpies?  HIKING!  ORRRR…Fairy Walking.  I can cut the belly-aching in half by convincing them we’re looking for not just a fairy, but entire colonies of fairies, cleverly hidden in the forest.  Everyone knows fairies colonize in deeply wooded areas.  Look it up.

We hiked trails we covered last year, so we knew when we were getting close.  Look for spaces where the sun shines through the trees, just so, and wait to feel the magic.  Wait for it…wait for it…

When you get so close you are looking at their front doors, be very quiet.  Don’t poke those holes with sticks.  Would you poke a fairy in the eye with a stick?!  You’ll forever be banned from spotting them at night, in the fields…they’ll stay far from you forever!  Never be a fairy eye poker, if you know what’s good for you.

Luckily, this year, we not only found their general living area and their homes, but ALSO, their meeting area.  Here is Town Hall.  Sara knocked and knocked, but they wouldn’t admit her to the Grand Council Fairy Consortium.  Better luck next year.

We usually don’t stumble upon Fairy Villages until the end of our hike.  I don’t know why.  They don’t reveal themselves until they know you are a good citizen of the forest, I guess.  Whatever hiking remains is sure to be full of loud groans of protest, that I can promise you.  LOUD.  Irritated.  How are you out of water Mommy?!!  But, if you are lucky, a Granddaddy will hang back and help you finish those few remaining paths of the trip.  I know a couple of little girls who found themselves perched upon shoulders after Fairy Homes were found, otherwise?  We’d still be crawling out of that forest.