trinkets and baubles

I was fourteen or fifteen the summer I had mono. I stayed in bed for hours upon end, read lots, watched movies, and slept endlessly.
I also made fairy crowns. Copper wire, stripped from a broken vacuum cleaner by my brothers found its way into my hands, and I twisted and shaped it into a couple of different headpieces -- rough, organic and whimsical.
I was in the heart of my period of staunch belief in fairies then.
 I watched Fairy Tale, the story of the Cottingley Fairies, and was entranced. I checked out of the library every Cecily Mary Barker book I could find, poring over the illustrations of darling child fairies. I built fairy villages in the wood behind the house, the North Florida variety, constructed of pine straw and pine twigs, and all the other salvaged pine bits  I could glean from the warm forest floor. My sketch books were filled with tiny butterfly-winged fair-folk, and my letters to girlfriends signed sarahfairy. 

So I've grown up a little bit and don't exactly wear my fairy wings out in public anymore (okay, so I never actually *did* that; its a metaphor) but I have this one crown still. Most days my bedside lamp wears it regally on its shade, but the other day my roommate Hannah  saw it sitting there, and cajoled me into a fairy-crown themed photo shoot.

She's magic with light, and it was a dream to sit for her.
A photo posted by Hannah Russell (@hannahmeredithphoto) on
I do believe in fairies; I do! I do!