A brief and evocative description, account, or episode.
A breathtaking, immortal race of fairy-like creatures the approximate height of a human hand. Their butterfly wings glow with warm light. The Tuatha Dé Danann initially created them as a living light source to ease their banishment beneath the earth.
The earliest twilight falls on the winter solstice and a rough-hewn table groans beneath a feast. Berries, mistletoe, and autumn leaves dangle from the overhanging branches, at the mercy of silver candelabras with their flickering flames.
The Síogaí Geal provide light and warmth from their glowing wings. Le criminel crows swoop and hop over plates. Robins, blue jays, and woodpeckers perch on the edges of flutes, take gulps of champagne, and sneeze from the effervescence. Raccoons and skunks put aside their differences, and break bread together. Squirrels unearth their hoarded nuts for the herons.
There’s as much stealing as there is sharing. And it’s chaos, the way it should be with nature.
On the solstice, Spring waves her warm hand, thawing the ravine. The trickling melt, yearning for the sea, tumbles south. When the sun sinks below the horizon, the stream becomes a flow of apricot champagne.
The Síogaí Geal glide upon their glowing wings just above the creek’s exuberance. Blue jays, robins, and woodpeckers fly close behind. Swishing ducks sail while tiny fish swim. Rats, mice and squirrels scamper on the bank. Le criminel crows swoop and seagulls poop, skunks skulk and raccoons waddle. They’ve abandoned their urban hunting grounds and together, parade towards a hidden glade.
The animals sip bubbly from the stream and sigh with the floral, fruity taste. Then paws grasp claws, fins clasp webbed feet, and tiny hands hold onto the tips of black feathered wings. They frolic and foxtrot—each in their unique way—celebrating the forest coming to life.
One of the ravine’s greatest pleasures is a shower of sunlight piercing the forest canopy. Unless, of course, it’s bifurcated. That means you’ve come upon one of the Síogaí Geal when they’re alone and unaware. The warmth glows from their wings; a defence mechanism they can turn up and down like it’s on a dial.
You can choose to bask beneath, but you’ll never be the same.
Have you ever wandered through the ravine in search of the Síogaí Geal? Wondering where they hide? Frustrated because you can’t find them? In a pinch, they’ll vanish behind a tree trunk or down a burrow. Otherwise, they prefer lounging in abandoned crows’ nests—the higher in the trees the better.
Either way, if they realize you’ve spotted them, their resulting trickery will be unpleasant. Really, it’s best not to look at all.
What does it take to enchant a forest pool into a silky bath of commingled moonlight and star-shine? A clear sky in the coldest hour before dawn. If you happen upon the Síogaí Geal soaking in the shimmering water, enjoying a petit déjeuner of champagne and croissants, you’ll be drawn to admire.
Listen quietly as together they plan the coming day’s trickery. But whatever you do, don’t let them hear you, and definitely don’t let them see you.
Did you know fallen trees are really secret paths to an ongoing woodland feast? If the crow perched atop gives one resounding caw and flies away, you’ve been invited. Follow the scents—both savoury and sweet—to find a laden table beneath lantern-heavy branches.
Waltz and sip alongside the Síogaí Geal. But, never, ever eat or you’ll never, ever leave.
Longing for fun? Wander down the Spirit Trail and peer into the forest where it’s the thickest. If you tilt your head just so, a murder of crows will take flight, and expose a hidden path. The dusky lure of flutes will be faint, but follow them to a lantern-lit revel of the Síogaí Geal.
Dance and drink from the fountains of wine. But you have to believe. And you have to be willing.
Do you ever walk alongside tall grasses and float your arm through the blades? Careful of what may be lurking within. The Síogaí Geal love to sneak from the confines of the ravine. They want to be out in the world. They want to be where the people are, to watch them, to trick them, to laugh at them.
Really, any lush foliage can be concealing. Are crows gangstering about nearby? That’ll be your only warning.
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