Emma Sandhu from Curious in Nature remembers the joy of her own childhood in Suburban Newcastle. She wonders if the trend for man made Fairy Doors nailed into unsuspecting trees might be a distraction from the real magic in the woods. 

 

When I was small we used to play in the grounds of a grand Victorian Gothic psychiatric facility which stood opposite my house. The area was half-wild and full of wonderful trees. Stately, smooth-barked beeches with layers upon layers of bright green leaves, gnarled hawthorns which drew blood to match their fruit when you weren’t careful, and a twisted chestnut of eerily singular beauty  

We were certain that these trees were also home to the fairies, we didn’t really need to think about it. There, in suburban Newcastle in the 1990s, the trees were magical, and the presence of magical folk was a truth we held to be self-evident. We could feel it in our bones.  

Now, thirty years later,  

It’s, Spring! Light and frolicsome, the world is making itself new again. Bumble bees buzz busily, songbirds greet the dawn, fluffed-up in their fresh-feathered finery. The quickening of life can be felt all around us.  

I head out to the woods to drink it all in, but soon stumble across a man-made fairy trail. At first glance it looks like the work of fly-tippers, but no, this dog-eared mess is where the fairies live now.  

I wish people would stop putting human stuff in the woods, it only ends up tattered and sad. Nature’s power to renew itself each spring is nothing short of miraculous. The wilder world never gets dowdy, its paint never peels.  

I can’t help feeling that these fairy trails are a symptom of how far childhood has fallen away from the wilder world. In my grumpier moments I begin to worry that today’s children can only see fairies if they’re clearly presented in a designated, manufactured area.  

I raised my own children in a tenement flat in a busy part of Glasgow. I was a struggling single mum, and we didn’t have much access to outdoor space. There was a swing park opposite, but the road was too dangerous for them to go alone, so I always came too and we never stayed that long. When we moved to a house with a garden in 2018. I remember having to explain to them that they could go outside any time they wanted. But they didn’t.  

When I think about the scant opportunities my kids had to explore the wilder world alone, I know I let them down. We can never get those days of wonder back.  

I wonder if this all-too-common sense of loss of the wilder world explains the rise of the seticky-tacky human-made fairy trails. Are we responding to our grief for the wild magic we have lost and failed to pass on to our sweet, indoor children?  

In my less grumpy moments, I know we can always find wonder in the wilder world, no matter our stage of life. Nature renews itself every year and it’s never too late to go down to the woods today!  

And, if you should find yourself trundling round a synthetic fairy trail during the holidays, try walking slowly, like a curious snail…Take your time and look closely. The real fairy doors and secret beetle-burrow windows are still there behind the fading figurines, the magic is waiting to be found, between the mushrooms and moss, just where we left it.