Chapter One
Little houses in the ferns
Long before there were trails or maps or little wooden signs, the faeries of Mahone Bay lived quietly among the ferns and the riverbanks — in tiny houses with mossy roofs, round doors and chimneys no taller than a thimble.
They kept to themselves, mostly. But on still mornings, if you walked softly, you might hear the faint chime of a bell or catch a glint of faerie dust drifting between the trees.
Chapter Two
The winter the storms came
Then came a winter of fierce storms. The wind blew in off the bay, cold and unkind, and it tumbled the faeries’ tiny houses — roofs, doors, chimneys and all. By morning, the little houses lay scattered across the snow, and the faeries had nowhere warm to go.
Chapter Three
The town that rebuilt them
Now, the people of Mahone Bay are a big-hearted sort, and they simply couldn’t bear it. So they gathered twigs and stones and sea shells and scraps of kindness, and they got to work — rebuilding every last house, one tiny doorway at a time.
Neighbours carved the doors. Slowly, lovingly, the little houses rose again among the ferns, cosier and more colourful than before.
Chapter Four
And the faeries stayed
The faeries were so charmed by such kind-hearted neighbours that they made a decision: they would stay. Forever. And they’ve been peeking out from the ferns ever since — leaving their doors open, their bells chiming, and their faerie dust drifting for anyone gentle enough to look.
Today, three trails wind through their neighbourhoods, tended by volunteers and visited by families from all over. The storms may come again — but now the faeries know they’re never far from a friend.
Wander gently, and keep your eyes soft.