Hand in hand, we walked down the grassy hill toward the edge of the woods. Our feet quickly met the sea of ferns welcoming us into the forest beyond. Her small hand led me through a barely visible path between the ferns; twigs and leaves crunched under our feet as we stepped closer to our destination.

“This is my front door,” my niece pointed to a small rock on the ground that marked the entrance to her home among the ferns.

Little did I know that by stepping over the rock and into her little house, I was crossing over into a world of enchantment and imagination. As she showed me around the rooms of her home, I breathed in the earthy smell of the dirt floor and the sweet fern walls surrounding us.

A sense of wonder came over me.

I took in every detail of her cozy home — the yellow dandelions decorating her little table, the pile of sticks for her cooking fire, the piece of bark that served as her lantern for when it got dark — even the tiny fairy bed for traveling fairies in need of a place to sleep.

Sitting on a chair made of dried leaves, I couldn’t help but smile. It was a moment so pure and warm. I blew on my steaming cup of tea in a dried maple leaf mug and commented on how it was the most delicious tea I’d ever had.

Upon finishing my cup of tea, I said goodbye and ventured over to the neighboring house in the ferns. My other niece’s home also had a rock for a front door and a long hallway that led to a kitchen where she was baking pine cone cupcakes, sprinkled with pine needles. When I asked her for a napkin to wipe the frosting off my face, she giggled and handed me a leaf.

Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I thanked them both for their hospitality and stepped out to find a home of my own among the ferns.

In the center of a small clearing nearby was a stump I knew would make the perfect table for my new home. I brushed away some of the leaves and tidied the place up, just in time to hear my oldest niece call out, “Nighttime!”

Laying down on the ground, knees tucked up to my chin, I closed my eyes and listened to the birds singing their lullabies in the trees surrounding our little fern village. Shifting in my position, I found unexpected comfort in my bed of pine needles and leaves. I signed deeply, opened my eyes, and looked at the sky — framed by a wall of green ferns. The tops of the great pine trees touched the sky.

It was a moment so pure, so full of wonder, so peaceful.

Before venturing down to the fern village that day, I had been racing from here to there, filling my time with to-do lists, plans, work, and obligations I felt too overwhelmed to handle. 

I didn’t have time to stop and slowly drink a cup of tea. I didn’t have time to pick flowers. I didn’t have time to walk through the forest and let my imagination run wild.

Or did I simply not make the time to pause and slow down?

Could I make time each morning to stand outside and let the early morning sunshine hit my face — if only for a few minutes?

What would it look like to take time each day to walk through our gardens and notice the new growth peeking through the earth?

How rejuvenating would it be to make a point each week to connect with a friend over tea and share our lives?

Could I make time to be creative and run free with my imagination as I once did when I was a child?

A wave of calm washed over me in my home among the ferns and overwhelming joy filled my soul, bursting into a small smile.

Awakening me from my daydreaming state, I heard a knock on the door. I had somehow missed the call for the morning.

“Come in!” I answered, getting up and walking towards the door.

There my nieces stood with small gifts to welcome me to the neighborhood – a handful of magical acorns and a sparkly rock that could decorate my home. I invited them in for a breakfast of leaf pancakes with pine needle maple syrup. 

As we sat around the little stump table eating leaf pancakes and drinking hot cocoa out of invisible cups, I thought to myself, “These are the moments that truly make life beautiful.”