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August 8, 2013

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The Shepherdess and the Prince

Jonas walked up a hill behind the soccer field where his parents were watching his brother’s game. Being only six on his next birthday, he was not allowed to play.

Jonas pushed through thick bushes, stumbled and fell. When he got up, he felt as though the world had tilted and then righted itself. He shook his head, and opened his eyes. His vision blurred then sharpened. A strong, salty wind brushed his hair back from his forehead. He could hear surf in the distance.

Before him was a stone ruin, and he walked around it. He walked inside, and admired the thick walls. He had never seen any ruins near the soccer fields before. A tall window was set in a partially standing wall. He looked through, and as far as his eye could see stretched rolling hills and bright blue skies. He stepped through, and the air shimmered.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

August 5, 2013

Posted under

Fairy Tale for Boys, Tales for Kids of All Ages, Young Fairy Tale

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The Stallion and the Fortune-Teller

Marcellino’s Grandfather Gerardo took him to meet his old school friend from his boarding school days. His friend had recently become King Bengal of Tropica Nadia, a small country off the coast of India. King Bengal lived in a splendid palace overlooking the sea.

Marcellino’s smile enchanted the king. The king invited him to a party for his young daughter, Sahara, in three days time. Marcellino was very happy, but his Grandfather Gerardo was worried. What should they bring little Sahara for a present? What do you buy for a ten year old princess?

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

July 29, 2013

Posted under

Fairy Tale for Boys, Tales for Kids of All Ages, Young Fairy Tale

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The Birthday and the Troll

A Dance for Tomorrow by Alf Sukatmo

Satri knew that walking deep into the mangrove forest by himself was not allowed. Sometimes the noise of his six brothers grew too loud for him to hear his own thoughts. He was careful not to let Raksasa or Manu see him going. The twins were the eldest, and always acted as if they were the bosses of the other 5 brothers. All of them except Manu called the oldest Raksasa behind his back, because he was huge and tall, like a towering giant. He also had the quickest fists, so the brothers were careful to call him Jay to his face.

Satri slid away while Raksasa and Manu were fighting with Ragawan, the second youngest, who had taken out a trumpet and was blowing it as loudly and discordantly as he could. Widagdya and Lintang were beating drums. Wijah was laughing and dancing on his hands, a trick all the boys could do. Wijah, third youngest and three years older than him, was his best friend amongst the brothers, but today he really wanted to be alone.

Deep into the mangroves, Satri wove his way along narrow paths, leaving behind him the din of his older brothers. He stepped carefully over tree roots, skirting pools of water washed up from the Java Sea, never far away on this island. He ducked under low branches, moving softly in hopes of seeing a monitor lizard or a golden ring snake. The sun was shining, the light dappled under the trees, and the sea breeze blowing across the Thousand Islands cooled the air. The birds were silent. He saw nothing. That should have given him pause, warned him of what was to come. However, he was too grateful for the quiet to heed its warning.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

July 24, 2013

Posted under

Fairy Tale for Boys, Fairy Tale for Girls, Tales for Kids of All Ages, Young Fairy Tale

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The Rain Dance

Two children surprised a fairy. Mona, the fairy, was of the Swallowtail Fae. In the twinkle of an eye, she shifted to her butterfly form. She fluttered to a butterfly bush, then to a high hosta bloom. She watched the children.

The little girl pointed at her, “Stephano! I saw a fairy!” Mona wondered if she should flee.

Stefano laughed. “Isabella, that’s a butterfly,” He shook his head. “But we’re here to do a rain dance, remember?” He clapped his hands and stomped rhythmically in the grass. He danced in a circle, widdershins, and Isabella joined him, also clapping.

“We need to ask the Great Spirit for rain,” Stefano said. Mona was surprised the children knew of the Great Spirit.

Together the children chanted: “Great Spirit in the sky, the garden’s way too dry. Begging your pardon, please rescue our garden. Let rain clouds form and bring on the storm!”

Nothing happened. The sky stayed blue, and no clouds came. Stefano was crestfallen, but Isabella giggled about their prayer. “Mommy! We sang to the Great Spirit, and I saw a fairy!”

The air shimmered as Mona shifted back to her fairy form. Blue Iris petals formed her dress. Fairy magic kept them as fresh and soft as the day they unfurled. Mona was as disappointed at Stefano. She had been using her wand to keep flowers alive, but what they really needed was rain and lots of it.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

July 23, 2013

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Awards!

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Sauce for the Goose

I’m feeling a bit saucy today. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. Don’t be a goose, take a gander at this delectable sauce — composed of delicate hints of the Versatile Blogger Award, a dash of the Loyal Reader and a smattering of Team Membership.

Heartfelt thanks to Belsbror and SimonOworkman, who both separately awarded me the Versatile Blogger Award. Belsbror has great stories, very moving and descriptive. I like his analogy of a blog being like a tree, you should check him out. SimonOworkman has a very engaging and lyrical writing style. I like his caterpillar poem very much.

A double dose of thanks to Jessica Hagan for the piquant Loyal Reader and Wonderful Team Membership Awards. She has inspiring photographs of flowers, butterflies, bees and cats. My appreciation of nature grows every day with the privilege of seeing it through her eyes.

Details about me: I took the last photograph here hanging out of my car window. My three kids and I think up new stories constantly. My middle child has written a fairy tale and wants me to publish it, and I will be proud to do so one day soon. I walk most mornings, and my skin burns to a crisp in the sun, so I usually wear a large-brimmed hat. I have loved fairy tales all my life, and I try to approach every day as if it will be magical, full of beauty and wonder and have compassion when the clouds come. I never expected to enjoy reading the blogs of others as much as I do. Thanks all of you for participating in this exotic, global wonderland.

Now for the swag, here are 14 lovely bloggers who can take home the above three awards in their goodie bag (dig it or ditch it, it’s up to you):

Len, my first reader and most loyal follower. He’s an artist, a dad, a writer, a loving husband, an artist and a student. I can’t imagine more versatility, loyalty and team membership!

Travel Sized, an experienced traveler with lots to share, and a deep appreciation for nature even to the point of camping!

Ed, another loyal reader, who also has a deep connection to nature and has fantastic photos.

Wildersoul, a new friend, who has a cool coloring book for kids — not just more princesses and trains. Love especially her Celtic knotwork and video of her coloring.

Donicia, an old soul in a beautiful young woman, has been a great reader and encourager. I love her photos and quotes. Bless her for being part of my community.

Whyilovewesttexas, another great reader, has a great appreciation of nature.

PacificParatrooper, is a treasure trove of history about World War II in the Pacific and all aspects of life in that time period.

Windup-Razor-Chronicles by Son of Sharecropper is a delightful amalgam of fishing, shaving, poetry and amazing photos.

Basho and Jung, is the Haiku king! Love those pink ears on his gravatar, too. Always a giggle.

Dagny at Serenely Rapt, has inspiring writing, poetry and prose on a beautiful site.

Old News has a brilliant archive of some of my favorite comic strip artists, visit if you need some belly laughs.

Vit Peyr, whose photographs amaze and inspire me, is worth a visit. A look is like entering a fairy tale.

Wish I were here, has amazing stories and pictures from all over the world, and is a great reader.

Jeweledfrogcreations has inspiring designs with an endearing whimsy.

For all readers, these photographs are dedicated to all of you. I’m grateful to all of you, you’ve helped me transform friendlyfairytales from a dream into a rewarding reality. Each one of you has lent me some magic, given me encouragement and welcomed my stories with more affection and attention than I ever expected. Thanks for being part of my world.

I hope that wherever your eye is drawn, you find the beauty and magic there. I see beauty and magic in all of you.

Peace, love, joy and magic!

Brenda

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

July 22, 2013

Posted under

Fairy Tale for Girls, Tales for Kids of All Ages, Young Fairy Tale

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Nana Knows

“Nana, where do the fairies hide?” Jana sprinkled water on the potted flowers with her red watering can.

“Dearest, they could be in the darkest parts of the pine tree. Between rocks in walls, in the curl of an unopened flower or in the wrinkled bark of a tree.”

Jana looked carefully in all those places, even peering into the furled petals of flowers, but nowhere did she see shimmering wings or shining faces. Then she lifted the leaves of a hosta just opening its white trumpets.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

July 20, 2013

Posted under

Fairy Tale for Girls, Poetry, Tales for Kids of All Ages

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Follow Not The Swans

The Night Swans

by Walter de la Mare

Tis silence on the enchanted lake,
And silence in the air serene,
Save for the beating of her heart,
The lovely-eyed Evangeline.

She sings across the waters clear
And dark with trees and stars between,
The notes her fairy godmother
Taught her, the child Evangeline.

As might the unrippled pool reply,
and answer far and sweet,
Three swans as white as mountain snow
Swim mantling to her feet.

And still upon the lake they stay,
Their eyes black stars in all their snow,
And softly, in the glassy pool,
Their feet beat darkly to and fro.

She rides upon her little boat,
Her swans swim through the starry sheen,
Rowing her into Fairyland –
The lovely-eyed Evangeline.

Tis silence on the enchanted lake
And silence in the air serene;
Voices shall call in vain again
On earth the child Evangeline.

Evangeline! Evangeline!
Upstairs, downstairs, all in vain.
Her room is dim; her flowers faded;
She answers not again.

(Originally published 1902 by Longmans, Green, London, New York.)

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

July 17, 2013

Posted under

Fairy Tale for Boys, Fairy Tale for Girls, Tales for Kids of All Ages, Young Fairy Tale

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The Three Fat Hogs

Three little pigs were born to Daddy Fat Hog, a Rock Star. They grew up on Hog Heaven Estate in the Bel Air hills. When his money ran out, Daddy Fat Hog went to live in an ashram in India and became a spokeshog for Pigghadistra. Meanwhile, the three little Fat Hog triplets spent their days bickering and eating all the food from the enormous pantry. The sheriff came with twenty deputies, shook them down, and kicked them out. The three Fat Hogs were not allowed to keep any possessions, but waddled sadly out a side gate.

They continued down the mile long drive toward the isolated hills of the Platinum Triangle. They passed Daddy’s Safari Outback where the elephants and giraffes nodded good-bye. They gazed mournfully at Daddy’s old Lear Jet with its bent wing and the Rolls Royce up on cinder blocks.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

July 4, 2013

Posted under

Fairy Tale for Girls, Tales for Kids of All Ages, Young Fairy Tale

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Fairy Independence Day

“Do you believe in fairies? Say quick that you believe.
If you believe, clap your hands….
Every time a child says, ‘I don’t believe in fairies,’
there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. ”
— James M. Barrie, Peter Pan.

Eleanor did not believe in fairies, but she was careful never to say so, just in case. She could never be sure. Occasionally, if she clapped her hands in the garden among the long purple blooms of the butterfly bushes, it was her secret.

Eleanor was named for the former first lady, Eleanor Roosevelt. July Fourth had arrived, and she was very excited. She had been studying the Revolutionary War in school. She wished she was finally old enough to stay up and watch the fireworks. Since her mother was refusing to let her, to console herself, she read her favorite biography on Eleanor Roosevelt again. She asked her mother to read more about her on the internet, and surprise of surprises! Eleanor Roosevelt had commented on fairy godmothers.

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Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

June 29, 2013

Posted under

Fairy Tale for Girls, Tales for Kids of All Ages, Young Fairy Tale

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Fairy Forlorn

Fairy Forlorn was the saddest fairy in Stream by the Wold. She had gotten lost one winter day, and had hibernated by herself all winter long under a mound of earth deep within the moor. In the spring, when the flowers nudged up through the soil, she searched and searched for her kind, but nowhere near Stream by the Wold could she find them. She searched in the trees.

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Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

June 26, 2013

Posted under

Fairy Tale for Boys, Fairy Tale for Girls, Tales for Kids of All Ages, Videos by Friendlyfairytales, Young Fairy Tale

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Jeremiah brings Joy to the World

Jeremiah was not a bullfrog (that was a vicious rumor). The solstice has passed, and Queen Elisabeta ordered all the bee fairies to pollinate until the sun went down. Jeremiah visited the lupine first. You can catch a glimpse here if you look close:

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Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

June 21, 2013

Posted under

Fairy Tale for Girls, Holiday, Poetry, Tales for Kids of All Ages, Young Fairy Tale

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Midsummer Stew

“Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild,
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.” – W.B. Yeats

Conla picked early sage in her garden. Her family traditionally made a lamb stew for their midsummer feast. Her mother, Bronwyn, was inside their house braising the lamb with spring onions and chives. Conla heard her neighbor’s voice, and turned to see him walking under their archway with its pink roses and purple clematis.

“I can’t find a thing! My jackets are missing their buttons. My trousers all have holes. My wallet and keys are missing again! Are you doing this to me?!” Conla’s neighbor in the white cottage next door was Seamus O’Flanagan. Their two houses were the only ones for miles in that wild part of County Wicklow. The American had retired and come to the old country to write and paint, in the county of his ancestors. His wispy white hair was standing up in the wind, and his cheeks were red with anger.

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