Birdie's Book - Andrea Burden [25]
“I don’t think that was a willow tree,” I was saying when we saw the tree we were looking for. It was a Hybrid Oak, a cross between a Quercus (like the Glimmer Tree) and a hawkinsi. I’d just seen one like it with my mom at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, one of the few places I really loved in New York City. I shared my knowledge with Kerka, who listened with good humor. (I think she was really getting used to me!)
“That’s so cool, Birdie,” she said. “Now, can we climb it and get over the wall?”
I grinned and nodded. “Let’s do it.” The branches of the oak hung along the wall and stretched over a sea of lilac bushes—just like the image out of the map. Kerka bowed and waved her hand for me to go first. So I did, scrambling up the bottom branches. Kerka came behind me, climbing like a cat.
I got to the big branch that went out over the wall. I sat on it and inched myself forward bit by bit. It was a long way down! To give Kerka credit, she didn’t tell me to go faster. She walked along the branch behind me like a tightrope walker. The branch angled slightly down after it went over the glass wall, thankfully!
“Hold on to the branch and lower yourself down from there,” Kerka suggested.
So that’s what I did, a little clumsily and holding my breath. With a thump I dropped into the lilac bushes. Kerka landed beside me with no thump whatsoever.
We pushed our way through the tall lilacs and came out in a blue flower garden. Seriously—every plant was blue! There were blue spires, wisteria, blue irises, bluebonnets, blue chrysanthemums, delphiniums, and bluebells. I had never seen so many shades of blue all in one place!
“Is this the most beautiful, incredible, magical flower garden you’ve ever seen?” I said to Kerka. “It’s even more amazing than Mo’s garden.” I stood breathing in the scents. The sweet lilacs mixed with a cool smell of spearmint and hyacinth and blue rose.
Kerka was actually impressed, too. She gazed around. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
Together we tiptoed through the flowers to a path of polished glass shards that twisted through the garden. I was suddenly hit by a memory of my mother—a good one.
Years ago she had taken me to a playground. She wore jeans and slid down the curlicue slide with me, over and over, as many times as I wanted. Then we lay on a blanket in the grass and watched the clouds. My mother pointed to a flower-shaped cloud in the sky. “See the flower?” she asked me. “It’s a daisy, turning toward the sun.”
“That cloud did look like a daisy, didn’t it?” said a voice.
Kerka and I spun around. What was it about this place and voices coming out of nowhere? I almost laughed, but the sight of the woman gliding down the glass path through the blue garden stopped the sound from coming up. Instead, I gave a little gulp.
Bees buzzed like banjo strings around the lady in the late-afternoon sunlight. Her dress was turquoise, and white spider lilies adorned the hem and dotted her upswept hair. “Put that away,” she said sternly.
I gaped, not knowing what she was talking about but wanting to do whatever she asked. I thought she looked like the spider lilies on her dress—Amaryillidaceae lycoris.
“Sorry, just a reflex,” Kerka said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her slowly putting the Kalis stick back in her pack. She must have whipped it out in surprise at the woman’s voice. I almost giggled again to see Kerka look so meek.
“You don’t need the Kalis stick here,” said the spider lily woman. “Not unless you are dancing.”
I pressed my lips together tightly to keep the giggles down. This woman was like the coolest, strictest teacher in my old school—but definitely stranger!
“When you visit the Willowood Fairies, you are under our protection,” the woman continued, with her sweet smile and steely tone. I finally looked past the buzzing bees and noticed her wings.