You would think that the faeries would become more social, would show a little gratitude -- but they only continued their antics. Sometimes it was fun. Someone who either did not believe in faeries, or believed that the faeries would never reject them, would take a gift out to the tree at night. Within minutes, they would tear through the patio doors, white of face and out of breath, babbling about being buzzed by some kind of bug, or something! After it happened to me, I never went under the tree at night alone without my broom, a lit candle and a good reason.

I started doing some research on faeries. First, I learned that there were many different kinds, all sizes, shapes and attitudes. Second, most faeries held no fondness for adult humans due to having their treasures stolen being otherwise exploited for eons. Some faeries just didn’t like anything, including other faeries.

I learned that they liked courtesy, fire, horses, herbs and flowers, baubles, cream and oat cakes. Some liked ale or beer and butter, but not my resident faeries. They did not like being trespassed upon, discourtesy, messiness, chocolate, cats, and electricity.

I made it a rule that we only carried candles into the garden at night, not flashlights. I started inviting the faeries to join in our Circles, dancing counterclockwise around us. We left them whipping cream and oatmeal cookies, and never walked under the tree without asking permission first. The buzzing stopped.

The only person they ever acknowledged with affection was my friend Bernice. She was under the tree with her little dog Max (one of those tiny terriers with a large attitude). She was holding Max so that she would not eat one of my dogs -- also tiny dogs with attitude. When she emerged, Max was draped with the prettiest of lavender beads. I was astonished. It was the only time that happened. Max wore the beads for a couple of days, then pulled them off her neck. Bernice put them on her alter where they remained.