When the plum tree became large enough to sit under; we started noticing an odd feeling that would affect anyone underneath it. Everyone was drawn to the tree in the daytime. It is very cool and dark, with a dappled shade that makes light pictures. The grass didn’t grow under the tree -- nor did weeds. The only greenery was some jade plants, spider plants and Wandering Jew. In fact, it was always as neat as a pin, while the rest of the garden was running amok It is the perfect place to read, meditate or just veg out. Under the tree feels like a different world, not at all like the San Fernando Valley.

The tree at night, however, was altogether different. You were likely to hear something with a very loud buzz, sort of like a giant bee, which would swoop by your ear and virtually chase you back into the house. We all began to realize that the tree was inhabited.

Faeries were not new to me. When I was little, my grandfather used to take me to Griffith Park’s Ferndale. He would show me how to look for faery places in the tree roots which grew down into the streams among the mosses and ferns. I knew that if I could find a rock with a large hole or crack near free flowing water, I could put my ear to it and hear the faeries sing. I saw them frequently when I was little. But I was pretty naive about the nature of faeries. My concept was based on Walt Disney. I figured that they were cute, sparkly, mischievous but basically friendly. Yeah, right!

I came across some large bags of Mardi Gras beads during my weekly sailing through garages. We decided to decorate the tree with the beads, since I did know that faeries liked baubles. We made it into a party. We invited friends over, especially those with children, and threw the strung beads onto the tree’s branches, high and low. It was Yule in the summertime.