This morning, on the day after spring officially began, I went for a short little walk in the woods. Here in central Ohio, the signs of spring have begun, but are still mostly in the "peer closely or you may not see" stage.

The other day while working in the library, I had a rite-of-passage-moment so folklorically poignant, it would have made Joseph Campbell’s eyes shimmer with tears: I was called a fairy godmother instead of a fairy.

We need to stay informed. We need to be aware. But we also need reminders that hope is out there. I’ve found solace in the fight from lists people have made online sharing “good news,” and I thought I’d make my own, but with a wonder and magic bent

Artist John Bauer drew trolls. And he drew them in such a way of inner truth that his work is still recognized a century later as inspiring modern faerie artists. But by the time he died in a tragic boat accident in 1918, he had given up on painting any fey subjects. 

And so Christmas is past, or will be very soon even to those who celebrate all 12 days. The warm fairy lights are stripped off house facades, living rooms thick with greenery are cleaned and restored to simplicity. We remove so many comforts against the dark of winter, and we are left feeling a bit bewildered why seasonal depression is a thing.