OUt near the dam under the trees, is a hum of the heat, cicadas and of bees... but down in the depths of the wet earthy ground...through a hole in the rock is another sound - a clinking, and clunking and laughter so loud - and falling about is this young elven crowd - I think they have found the sap and the seed, that gives faery wine the kick that it needs.

But high from the branches in the tall Silky Oak - graceful and regal fly the faerie queen folk - their soft whispers are calling like wisps on the wind. They call out the rabble from under the ground, who stagger and stumble but seem pleased to be found.

Bearing bottles of crystal and goblets of gold, the Queens join in a party as in days of old - where to drink and to dance and to tumble about, to sing and to laugh to swear and to shout - was what faeries did when to wine came into season, for that day they did things and lost all their reason - Better for me to back away from the Faeries - give them their space and learn to be wary.