I suppose it makes sense that nothing about a trip to Faerie would be straightforward.
I started my preparations for the convention as I always do, by writing an e-mail to the programming department, offering to participate on panels. For the first time in…I don’t know how long, the convention had more than enough people doing panels, and the ones I was most interested in doing ended up being ideas saved for another convention, so I had no panels to do. Which, although I love doing panels—you get to talk with the most interesting people—was a nice change of pace.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
So, I knew there were to be no panels, and I was already behind on NaNoWriMo, despite nearly catching up last weekend (next year I’m going to do a nano novel where I don’t have to keep stopping and thinking about worldbuilding stuff), and I’m working to impress my current employers because my current assignment is a much better fit for how my brain works than the previous one, and I want to get a good recommendation out of this when I’m again looking for permanent work. And, of course, I wanted energy to enjoy the con and to perform in the song circles, so when I was running short on time I gave up the plan to take art for the art show.
So, although I have cool wing-stuff to put on my fairy cat from sketchfest, and the guardian gargoyle to finish, and a plan for this music box that would make a perfect yule gift for the right demented fan, I didn’t push myself to get them finished or to take other art for the art show. And I didn’t try to squeeze in time to go buy a new tuner to replace the one that has suddenly gone dead, despite new batteries.
Instead, I grabbed my hand-me-up hand-painted green knotwork shoes, and my spring sky with butterflies, packed instruments and music and my dance of leaves, with material to add some gussets in hopes of wearing it again. I left the easel behind, and the acrylics, packing only a single sketchbook and my ancient store of colored pencils. And I packed jewelry—amber, amethyst, and the foam of volcanoes, moons, stars and leaves, butterflies, spirits and peace signs, and the stag who found me in festival mud.
And, after consulting with My Angel regarding arcane matters of wood and leather, I went to sleep and then to work with dreams of good music and maybe dancing filling my head.
I returned from work to find a box on my front porch. A box? Was I expecting a box? I couldn’t think of anything.
I took a few minutes before starting to pack the car to open the box. Inside were an owl, a mushroom, and a leaf – all hand-made shakers, with a card that said,
Thank you again for the stories!
, for starting my trip out with the right touch of magic.
As soon as I could get us out of the house, we set off with an arcane set of directions, to wander unfamiliar streets that shone in the dark, hoping that if we performed the spell just right, we’d arrive in a place of music and magic, friendship and fun.(Pictured here are the three shakers, on my drum, but once again, I'm getting ahead of myself. More after I've had a chance to catch up on some sleep.)