Fall 60thyear- Our elder brother Hawthorne has made a union with a lady from the Nettle clan. I was excited I admit not for the festivities or for his happiness but for the relief from our tending to visit home. The gala was lovely and as fine as my sister’s, who was also in attendance transfixing the guests with her dancing, pretentious as always. I adorned my hair with pale blue petals simply to spite her previous advice.
I see now how WoodSorrel has grown. He’s as tall as Hawthorne now and has grown robust and brawny from our wilderness lifestyle. I am afraid I have remained rather unchanged aside perhaps that my skin is a shade darker due to my time in the sun. I am the plain, undersized, wispy haired pixie I ever was.
At the gala Hawthorne clapped me on the back as he would when my brothers and I would tumble through the wipperfronds in our youth and said, “It won’t be long until it is time to attend your Union Gala.” I’ve given it some though and I ardently hope not. My tending will need to be finished first of course and that won’t be for some seasons yet. I admit I do romanticize the joining with a person whom I can lay bare all my thoughts and feelings to and I may do the same service for them. But I have never had such inclinations towards another and I wonder that I may never will.
Summer 62ndyear- While gathering material for a fire last night there was an unusual occurrence. I walked through the forest lost in my own thoughts and was rather startled to come across another creature. Well, not any creature but a young female faerie. She appeared to be harvesting fungus and profusely apologized if she was trespassing and offered me her bounty which I declined. I reassured her it was quite alright. Soon after she fled but I still remember her lovely visage. Long chestnut hair and dancing green eyes, such large round orbs they were. It is unlikely yet I find myself wishing we’d chance upon each other again.
Winter 65thyear- The mysterious faerie maiden and I have met again! In truth we have met many a time since. I first observed her much like before in the woods her chestnut locks were woven into many braids designed in a lovely fashion atop her head. Upon commenting on the intricate beauty she mentioned it was a vestige of her late season ceremony. She is of my same generation. I have met her often and share many of my thoughts with her. She has become my boon companion, perhaps growing even dearer to me than my beloved brother Sorrel.