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# 2020-03-05 - The Fairyland Around Us by Opal Whiteley
# The Fairyland Around Us by Opal Whiteley
This book has multiple sections, including journal entries that
appear to pick up sometime after The Story of Opal left off. It is
written in the same spirit but with more maturity. I enjoyed reading
it and found myself wishing that Opal had been able to support
herself as an author, for i would have enjoyed reading the other
books she planned to write. The titles of 13 unpublished books
follow below.
1. LILORIOLE IN SEARCH OF THE HOMES OF FAIRYLAND
2. TWILIGHT, AND THEN-NIGHT
3. RAINDROP'S JOURNEY
4. NEARER TO THE HEART OF NATURE
5. MUSIC AND MUSICIANS OF THE OUT-OF-DOORS
6. WINTERTIME IN FAIRYLAND
7. WAYSIDE FAIRIES
8. MY OREGON
9. THE FAIRYLAND OF THE WEST
10. AURELIUS EVANGEL IN SEARCH OF THE JOYOUS BLUE
11. BABYHOOD DAYS IN FAIRYLAND
12. WHAT'S IN A NAME?
13. WHAT CAN I DO?
# ALONG THE ROAD
> Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free,
> the world before me, The long brown path before me leading me where
> I choose, Strong and content I travel the open road. --Whitman.
The Wayside--many fairies dwell there. And great is the joy that
comes from knowing these fairies--knowing who they are, where they
come from, to what families they belong, where their homes are
builded, and little things about their every day life. Dear Folk are
these along the way. Some are big and some are little. Some are
short and some are tall. Some wing their way through the air whereas
others grow from out the earth. Some hurry and scurry about. Others
move more slowly. Some are dressed in colors bright and gay.
Others are clad in sober shades that blend with Earth and Moss, and
leaves 'round about them. Some are busy all day long--others turn
night into day. Many and many are shy--Therefore go quietly among
them. Keep your eyes open and listen. And going thus and watching
so, every minute will be filled with interest--for numberless are the
fairies along the way, the fairies you may see and know every day.
And the things recorded in this chapter and in this book are as I
have watched them from hour to hour throughout all the days of my
childhood. A notebook in my pocket (wherein was carried food for
Birds and many other fairies) and a pencil were my constant
companions on my Nature walks. Because so much I wanted to help
other Girls and Boys find the same big joy in God's great
out-of-doors that I was daily finding, I carefully wrote down the
little things of the everyday life of the field and forest as I
watched them. I felt that my life work was the helping of
people--little folk and the grown-up folk, too, who hadn't grown up
too much--to find the big and abiding joy in companionship with the
everyday things around them in the out-of-doors. So I have been
working on this, book all these years. And the things herein
recorded are as I have found them and as you may find them. Of the
wonderful happiness that will be yours in the finding of them I
cannot tell in words. It is so big that it fills each day with an
abiding joy in life, with faith in the people about you, with trust
in God--and helps you to overcome the difficulties along the way. So
the companionship with God in the great outdoors has meant to my
life, and so it may mean in yours. As you go along the way--keep
your eyes open and listen.
> There is ever a song somewhere, my dear Be the skies above or
> dark or fair, There is ever a song that our hearts may hear--There
> is ever a song somewhere. --James Whitcomb Riley.
* * *
Day by day along the road we learn the bigger things of life, we gain
a larger vision and find new inspiration in companionship with--
> "God of the open air."
>
> "The little cares that fretted me,
> I lost them yesterday,
> Among the fields, above the sea,
> Among the winds at play;
> Among the lowing of the herds,
> The rustling of the trees.
> Among the singing of the birds,
> The humming of the bees."
>
> "The foolish fears of what may happen,
> I cast them all away
> Among the clover-scented grass,
> Among the new-mown hay;
> Among the rustling of the com.
> Where the drowsy poppies nod,
> Where ill thoughts die and good are born.
> Out in the fields with God."
>
> "The flower thine eye beholdest today
> Hath in God's spirit bloomed eternally."
> --Angelius Silossius, 1650.
> "We have a secret, just we three,
> The robin and I and the sweet cherry tree;
> The bird told the tree and the tree told me.
> And nobody knows it but just we three;
> But of course the robin knows it best,
> Because he built it - I shan't tell the rest;
> And laid the four little - somethings in it -
> I am afraid I shall tell it every minute.
> But if the tree and the robin don't peep,
> I'll try my best the secret to keep;
> Though I know when the little birds fly about.
> Then the whole secret will be out."
> "Hast thou named all the birds without a gun?
> Loved the wood-rose and left it on its stalk?
> O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine."
> --Emerson.
Have you ever stopped to think what kind of a place this world would
be if our trees were all taken away? Sometimes it is well for us to
pause and think a few moments what things would be like without some
of our daily blessings. I count trees among God's best gifts to us.
To-day I sat down on an old gray stone covered with lichens--and I
kept very quiet because I wanted to watch the Earth-folks about. And
when one keeps quiet one sees so much more. And the longer I kept
still the more I saw...
# RAINDROP'S JOURNEY
Once upon a time a raindrop took a journey--journeyed to the
sky--rode upon a cloud--then wore his snowflake dress and rested on
the mountain side--rested long upon the mountain side with other
little raindrops wearing snowflake dresses, too.
Then the warm sun came and lingered on the mountain side. Raindrop
changed his dress and trickled over the ledge, and tinkled over tiny
rocks, and laughed in glee as he hurried away down the mountain side.
Down a little rill, went rushing on until, a little way beyond the
foot of the hill he lessened his speed and whirling and stopped for a
while his purling--rested and dreamed--and was lulled to sleep by the
wind musician on the bosom of the lake.
Herein are recorded those fairies whom he met upon the way--they who
dwell in and near the water. And these fairies whom he met upon his
journey he wants you, the Children of Men, to seek for in the places
where he met them. For this reason Raindrop's Journey is here
recorded--that you may know more of the fairies who dwell in and near
the water.
Unto all ye Children of Men who read of his journey Raindrops speaks:
"Write and tell me of the Fairies you meet in and near the
water--when you meet them--where you meet them--what you learn about
them--and what you would like to know about them. 'Tis a joy I count
it to help you find them and know them." Thus he speaks.
[Awesome! Opal wrote in her childhood journal that she wished to
write a story about the journey of a raindrop. And here it is. I
have only quoted the beginning, but the whole story is a treat to
read. I found it interesting that this particular raindrop passed
through Tule Lake. Tule lake is full of life, but Opal didn't live
there.]
And in a quiet place where the waters sang not, but lay dreaming
delightful, velvety dreams, there Raindrop found the Water Lilies,
found the Nymphaea Odorata, with their root stalks anchored in the
silt at the bottom of the stream, with their leaves floating on the
surface of the water. And he lingered near a great white blossom
with its golden stamens--and as he lingered there among the Water
Lilies the Wind Fairies whispered to him of the Water Lilies'
cousins, the fairy Lotus Flowers, whom people of the Far East love
and adore--spoke unto him of how they tell of Brahma's coming forth
from the Lotus, of how Buddha first appeared floating on this mystic
flower. All this told they unto Raindrop as he watched the bees and
flower flies coming unto the Water Lilies.
Somewhere a flute was calling "O-ka-lee, O-ka-lee." And Raindrop,
listening, wondered who was he? Where could he now be? "O-ka-lee,"
he heard again, this moment nearer, and the next moment a fairy in
black with red upon his wings was among the reeds, was on the tallest
reed of all. While Raindrop was coming nearer the bird upon the reed
began, "O-ka-lee. Redwing Blackbird is my name..."
Upon the surface of the pond floated Wokas, the Indian Pond Lily.
"Water Nymph" is the meaning of her scientific name, Nymphaea.
Yellow are her sepals and Raindrop told her of Hiawatha's canoe
floating.
"Upon the river Like a yellow leaf in Autumn Like a yellow
water-lily."
* * *
"Yes, I am Water Ouzel," answered the quaint bird bobbing among the
rocks, "and Liloriole has been to my home so the Children of Men will
know about it," in answer to Raindrop's questions.
[The Water Ouzel was John Muir's favorite, but i would expect to find
one above, not below Tule Lake, because it is an endorheic lake.]
A Fairy from the land beyond the Rocky Mountains is blooming in our
Cathedral to-day. From far away New England came the plants last
year to dwell in our Cathedral here in Oregon woods. We children love
Arbutus--that is why we placed it in the Cathedral--whose pillars are
the forest trees, the great tall fir trees; and whose dome is the
sky. Near the altar bloom these lovely cousins of Rhodora and
Rhododendron. [And siblings of Laurel, Madrone, Manzanita, Salal,
and Wintergreen in the Heath family.]
I've just come back from the woods where I was talking with Maurine,
who is a dear Deer friend of mine. I first knew her when she was a
fawn--and now we thread our way through thickets and over old logs in
the forest. Sometimes Maurine stops when we come to a bit of an open
place. And there she rests for a moment and there rest I too.
In the woods today was someone I had never seen before. There he was
looking so solemn, sitting on the broken part of a tree. I climbed
another tree just over the way, and sat there solemn, too--watching
him. I'm sure he came from the north--from the far north. His
clothes would make one think so. I think that he is one of the Snowy
Owls which Uncle told me about when he came back from the far
northland. I wanted to say, "How-do-you-do, Snowy Owl," but most
likely he would do just what I didn't want him to. I just waited and
the longer I waited the more solemn I felt, with him looking so
solemn. Pretty soon I began to get hungry (I remembered that Uncle
said he ate meadow-mice, rats and sometimes muskrats--Snowy Owl, not
Uncle). By and by I even forgot I was hungry. I felt just like I
was turning into a piece of wood, a piece of wood like the Fir tree I
was on. This was such a mysterious fairy, and him looking so solemn
that way made me feel he was a mystery and I was a mystery, and
everything around us was mysterious...
Behind a cascade of singing waters was a lovely cradle of green
mosses. The waters rushed on, murmuring, rippling and singing. But
the heart of the Mother feared not the rushing of the water--the
music of the stream seemed a part of her life. Day after day she
tenderly guarded the treasures in the cradle of mosses behind the
cascade. Now, this cradle was shaped like an oven--an opening it had
on the side. The treasures within it numbered five--pure white in
color, these eggs in which were the Baby Water Ouzels to be. Unto
this home Liloriole came, and was surprised at the way Father and
Mother Water Ouzel hurried over the wet rocks. While there she heard
Sir Water Ouzel sing, and in his song was the beauty and the strength
of the mountains around them. To the five Baby Water Ouzels to be
she gave these names--Cinclora Cinclus, Cindora Cinclus, Cinflora
Cinclus, Cindrona Cinclus and Cicero Cinclus--for their scientific
name was Cinclus mexicanus. And when leaving time came she yet
lingered, for Father Water Ouzel was singing--and in his song was the
glory of the mountains, the rippling laughter of the streams--their
dreamy sadness, too; the beauty of the mosses and ferns along the
water. The tinkle of the raindrops traveling over the tiny
rocks--all these and more too--the joy of living in God's good world,
was in the song of the Ouzel.
> To loiter down lone alleys of delight, And hear the beating of
> the hearts of trees. And think the thoughts that lilies speak in
> white. By greenwood pools and pleasant passages. --Lanier.
> And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in
> trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in
> everything. --Shakespeare.
> There is scarcely any earthly object gives me more--I don't know
> if I should call it pleasure, but something which exalts me,
> something which enraptures me--than to walk in the sheltered side
> of a wood on a cloudy winter day, and hear a stormy wind howling
> among the trees and roving o'er the plain. It is my best season
> for devotion; my mind is wrapt up in a kind of enthusiasm to Him
> who walks on the wings of the wind. --Robert Burns.
To-day has been such a wonderful day in Our Cathedral. You see,
there is no church near the lumber camp; but we children of the camp
have services in Our Own Cathedral.
This Cathedral of ours stands in the forest--is a part of the
strength-giving forest. Its dome is blue or gray as is the day--for
its dome is the sky. Its pillars are old and gray--the beautiful
gray of the trunks of the tall forest kings, whose branches are ever
green.
Its carpet is soft and velvety--is of the mosses that We Children
have gathered from many parts of the valley.
The pews are old logs overgrown with moss and vines. The altar is a
large old rock--and vines entwine it lovingly--and all about it are
planted many frail blossoms--and they grow among the mosses where we
have placed them in His Cathedral.
Anenores, One-flowered Wintergreens, Twin-Flowers, Spring Beauties,
and Calypso carpet the woodland floor. Along the aisle that winds
from the entrance to our great room of worship we have planted many
ferns--and along the way the gold and scarlet Columbines. A brook
flows at the side of Our Cathedral, and ever and ever 'tis singing a
song that makes the hearts of We Children glad.
Herein we meet for worship--Often I don't preach a sermon, but we
have a few minutes in meditation.
I heard again that same sweet song within the woods to-day. It
lingers with me yet. 'Twas in the Cathedral I heard him [the
nightingale] singing. And life is sweeter for having heard his song.
When night comes unto the Cathedral We Children fear not, for God
abides within--and his love is round about us where'er we go.
To-night we have been watching the stars.
author: Whiteley, Opal Stanley
detail: gopher://gopherpedia.com/0/Opal_Whiteley
LOC: QH81 .W49
source: gopher://tilde.pink/1/~bencollver/ia/details/fairylandaroundu00whit
tags: ebook,non-fiction,outdoor
title: The Fairyland Around Us
# Tags
ebook
non-fiction
outdoor
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