Darby’s Meadow
By
Thunderhead
A K A MRE






     On the top of a hill on a beautiful warm late spring day, a picnic was underway. 
 Not just any picnic but a picnic with one leprechaun, one woods fairy, one pixie and 
very small but special horse.  All the forest was adorned with a fresh coat of leaves 
and the air was thick with the lusty scent of uncountable flowers adorning the glade 
where the odd band relaxed.  The sky was clear and blue with the exception of a 
large growing cauliflower of clouds in the west.

     The gnarly old leprechaun drew on a long-stemmed pipe that was nearly black 
with age.  He blew the smoke out watching it whip and twist and disappear as a 
nervous breeze tore the smoke apart.

     “Harrumph” he grunted.
   
     “What is it?” the pixie asked.

     The leprechaun did not answer but drew from his vest pocket a brass spyglass 
with fine engraving and tooling of a long gone era.  He extended it and scanned the 
far ridge where a horribly dark, dark line was creeping up behind the trees.  

     “Ladies,” the leprechaun said, “forgive me for raining on your parade but there’s 
an ill wind beginning to blow and we need to be leaving now.”

     “Why?” asked the woods fairy.








     “I’m afraid while we have been admiring the spectacle of those pretty while clouds 
building in the west, the ridge below it have been hiding a squall line that has a 
terrible look to it and it is quickly heading this way,” the leprechaun said.  “We don’t 
want to get caught on this hilltop.”

     The beautiful woods fairy, a kachina dressed in the robes of a Chickasaw 
shaman, gathered the picnic together.  “Pesky,” she said, “go find Onomea.”

     The pixie, leaving a trail of sparkle, spiraled high into the air then off to the edge 
of the glade.  She soon came back, herding a very small blue horse by buzzing 
around its head like a horsefly and tugging on its mane.

     The little horse sensed the concern then saw the ominous dark line now visible 
cresting the far ridge.  She whinnied and shook her head. 

     “It’s okay, Onomea,” the pixie said as she flew in rings around the little horses 
head.  “We’ll be right back.”
     Little Sunshine, the kachina, took the intricately braded reigns and jumped on the 
little horse with the ease of a grasshopper. 

     The dark, dark, dark, dark cloud now rose above the horizon and took on the 
appearance of a giant rolling pin.  Tortured faces seemed to appear and disappear in 
the rolling clouds.  The nervous little breeze turned into confused and nervous wind.  
For a second, a powerful flash deep within the cloud reversed its tones making the 
darks light and light parts of the cloud dark.  Ringlets of wind traced patterns in the 
thick, lush spring grass like slightly insane little ghosts playing tag.

     Not waiting for the short legged leprechaun to find a way to climb the horse, Little 
Sunshine cast a precious pinch of fairy sparkles at him and with another wave of her 
arm the leprechaun was lifted into the air butt first, spinning around and dropping 
with a grunt onto the back of the horse behind her. 

     “Now why would you be wasting three months fairy dust just to be makin’ fun at 
the expense of an old man’s dignity?”  the leprechaun said.

     “Would you rather I wait for your legs to grow?” the kachina said. 

     The group started down hill.  Two riding one. Another flying rings around the rest.  
The horse was very small but very swift.  They soon were nearly across the glade.






     “I am sorry about that,” Little Sunshine said.  “I feel the presence of the trickster 
kachina.  We have no time to waste.”

     As they neared the edge of the trees, the leprechaun grabbed hold of his hat and 
looked back at the clouds that now were beginning to loom high in the sky.  The roll 
cloud stretched from horizon to horizon with a terrible hard edge that only 
accompanied the most violent of storms.  Raw power on a planetary scale.  The dark 
roiling roll cloud was a towering bowed translucent curtain of muted green near the 
top that plunged to near black as it neared the earth.
     “There’s hail in those clouds!” the leprechaun yelled.

     The squall line gave the impression of the entire countryside being swallowed by 
the mouth of an unimaginably large monster.  A hot magenta bolt of fire shot from 
the mouth of the storm and exploded a tree some miles behind them.   The brilliant 
flash frightened them as they waited for the thunder.    As the wind picked up, loose 
leaves began jumping into the air and the tops of the trees began swaying.   
BOOOOOOM!  Lightning now crashed close enough that there was little time 
between flash and thunder.  The little horse jumped logs and they all ducked limbs.  
They followed an animal trail through thickets that would bar the passage of any 
normal horse or man.  When the tree canopy would allow, they could look up through 
the towering trunks and see the roll cloud was crossing overhead and the inky 
curtain now sought to consume the other half of the sky. BA-BOOOOOM!  Another 
bold of lightning struck much closer.  The trees now began to bend together in 
unison as strong gusts began to roar through the tops. The sun already low on the 
horizon now yielded to the dark oppressive blanket covering up the sky.  Crack ka-
crack BOOOM!  Another bolt dropped even closer.  The kachina held tight to the 
reigns and the leprechaun held tight to the kachina.  Light levels fell fast but the 
amazing little horse navigated the tangle of brush on the forest floor with such grace 
that at one point while jumping a log an unsuspecting fox sprang up in the air like a 
scared kitten.  The leprechaun grabbed his hat and scrunched it down tight on his 
head as the wind whipped the little horses’ tail straightforward.   The group began to 
be pelted with twigs and small limbs torn from the dancing trees.   Another look up 
and they saw curious agitated clouds booking like mad, tortured nightmare animals, 
racing out from the base of the storm. BOOOOM!  Another lightning bolt landed 
nearby.  By now the thunder would not stop reverberating before a newer bolt 
compounded the roar. 
The immense curtain was now covering the sky and quickly choking off all light. 
The sun, seemingly unable to penetrate the monster storm, surrendered and slipped 
behind the mountains.  Their progress slowed for now they picked their way through 
the forest by the nearly constant flashing of the sky.  The trees began to thin as they 
crossed from the dense forest growth into a large meadow.  They were greeted with 
the sight of huge tormented sky continually lit by giant spider-like lightning crawling 
chaotically about.  A good thousand paces past the last tree the leprechaun suffered 
a stout smack in the head by a wind driven limb.  
Nearly knocked off his ride he looked back again to what seemed like the entire 
forest threatening to tear loose and fall on them.  

     “Far be it for me to appear the ingrate but would you now mind kickin’ in the 
afterburner on this hay burner?” the leprechaun said.  They hurried into the large 
meadow as the lightning revealed something standing in the field directly in front of 
them.  The object was narrow and tall but unrecognizable in the alternating brilliance 
and darkness.   BOOOOOOM!  This flash in front of them blinded them and 
clapped their ears like the hands of a large strong angry man.  It was several 
minutes before the image of the bolt began to fade and they could see they were 
nearing the object in the middle of the field.  The first drops of rain began to fall.  
Huge drops.  Cold drops.  Only a few at first but so large they left a splat the size of 
a silver dollar. 

     “Far be for me to suggest that you have things less than under control but I don’t 
think we’ll be makin’ it to the other side of the clearing” the leprechaun said to the 
kachina at the reigns. 

     The raindrops began to come faster and finer.  As they reached the base of the 
tower, the wind began driving the rain in heavy cold sheets.  The kachina guided the 
horse behind the obelisk where it became a wind brake.  The lightning showed the 
rain whipping by, nearly level on either side of them.  They paused wide-eyed not 
knowing what to do next.  BOOOOM!  Another ear splitting bolt hammered down 
nearby. 

     “Look!” the pixie yelled, her tiny voice barely audible above the roar of the storm.  
In the light of the flash she had seen behind them a small protected area where 
ancient vines, whose girth was that of a man’s leg, had twined together forming a 
hollow place.  She flew down and in.  The pale luminescence of the pixie threw 
enough light to invite the rest of them in.  The back of the alcove was smooth worked 
stone that was built up in steps.  The vines joined the stone a few feet above their 
heads making a decent (for the conditions) shelter.  The leprechaun and the kachina 
climbed down from the horse and looked around.  Water dripped from many places 
but this was far better than being just a few feet away outside the tangle of old vines.  
The flickering light through the vines made strange and eerie patterns of light and 
shadow that scurried across the ground in one direction as the lightning crawled 
across the sky in the other.  The leprechaun noticed that the kachina was shivering. 




     “Here now lass.  I’ll be fixin’ you a fine fire to warm yourself,” he said.

     He looked around and found old and still dry leaves that he gathered into a pile.  
He reached inside his old leather vest and from one of many pockets he withdrew a 
small weathered, suede bag.  Taking a pinch of black powder from the bag, he 
sprinkled it upon the pile.  He retied and replaced the bag in his vest then stepped 
back.  With a mumble and three claps of his hands there was a puff of light and 
smoke and the fire was going.  They found an old abandoned pack rats nest that had 
enough sticks to keep the fire going quite a while.  The fire began to generate 
enough heat that they finally began to warm up.  The wind whipped about and teased 
the fire but could not blow it out.  The leprechaun and the kachina began to laugh as 
they talked about their thrilling dash down the hill.  They would pause now and again 
as lightning would explode here and there around them.  The little blue horse had 
been standing as far from the opening and the fire as she could.  She had been very 
quiet hoping no one would notice her and want to go back out into the storm.  After a 
while she began to fuss as she stared out the opening.  The pixie flew to her and 
began to orbit her head.

     “Something is wrong,” she said.  “Something is wrong, Onomea is afraid.”

     The leprechaun and the kachina stopped talking.  They looked at the little horse 
then at each other.

     “Something IS out there,” the kachina said.

     They stared out the opening but in the darkness between the flashes they could 
see nothing.  It had seemed like the flashes were back to back but now the seconds 
stretched as they listened to the roar of the wind and the overlapping echoes of 
previous thunder in the inky void of light beyond their little fire. 

     “I’m afraid the comfort of our fire has left us a wee bit exposed in the rest of the 
darkness,” the leprechaun said quietly.

     The little horse pressed herself into a corner. The kachina grabbed the arm of the 
leprechaun and dug her finders in. 

     “Ow!” he said.

     “There are footsteps coming toward us!” she said with a death grip on the 
leprechaun’s arm.







     “This is not a proud moment for the likes of us getting caught off guard like this,” 
the leprechaun said.

     They peered into the darkness waiting for the next flash of lightning to illuminate 
their view.  When it did they gasped at the black silhouette of a man three times the 
height of the leprechaun.  The figure was fighting against the storm with an obvious 
intent of coming straight toward them.  Another flash revealed the figure so intent on 
reaching them was carrying a huge double bit axe!

     Hail began to fall.

     The leprechaun drew a small sword from his belt.  The elfin sword was many 
hundreds of years old with a history of campaigns of long ago and far away.  The 
kachina released the arm of the leprechaun then opened her magic bag and selected 
a potion that could burn the eyes and confuse anyone it was being hurled at.  She 
then closed her eyes tight and as she concentrated she began to vanish.  

     “I wish I could do that,” the leprechaun said.

     The dark silhouette now within striking distance stopped at the same place they 
had stopped in the shadow of the storm created by the mysterious object.  The pixie 
hid herself in the mane of the little horse hoping not to be discovered.  She peeked 
between the little horse’s ears while whispering calming words.  The dark figure 
crouched down on its hands and knees.

     “Know ye that this is the sword of the protector of St. Patrick! The very sword that 
banished all the snakes from Ireland!  Know that there is little more powerful, aside 
from the storm you’re in and the Lord Himself!  Advance at our own peril!” the 
leprechaun yelled out to the figure.

     There were a few moments of only the rain and wind roaring by.  The hailstones 
became larger and fell faster.

     The leprechaun had been standing directly in front of the entrance.  Now the 
kachina tugged at his arm.

     “What?” he asked.








     “Scoot over” she said.  She tugged at his arm till he had stepped sideways a bit.  
Now his shadow from the fire was not extending directly out of the entrance.  The 
faint light of the fire fell on the face of the rain soaked creature. 

     “Saints alive!” the leprechaun said.  “Did you ever see such a pathetic thing?”  He 
lowered his sword.

     The soaked shivering form of a man looked in at the little fire like a starved dog 
looking at a plate of crumbs. 

     “Hey,” he asked, “Can I come in?”

     The weak voice gave no indication of aggression but did give the feeling of 
someone in desperate need of shelter.

     “Aye lad. If you can fit you can”

     The kachina became visible and the soaked and shivering man laid down his axe 
and crawled into the little alcove.  There was barely enough room for all of them.  
The man’s feet were nearly in the fire while his head bumped against the vines and 
the some climbed up into his eyes.  As bad as it was it was better than being out in 
the deadly storm.  The man wiped the rain and wind blown grit from his eyes.  He 
looked from the leprechaun to kachina to elfin horse and back over and over through 
the smoke burning his eyes. 

     “I’m too wet (pant), and cold (pant), and miserable to be dead or dreaming unless 
I’ve gone mad;  I’m in need of you telling me what it is, or should I say who it is, that I 
am enjoying the company of?”

     “What you are looking at…” the little man said stepping up to address the man 
face to face despite having to look way up to a man sitting down, “is Angus Kerry 
Kelley O’Cork, master of magic, music and potions.  Freelance leprechaun explorer 
of the world” he tipped his hat then turned to the kachina, “and this lovely lass is 
Little Sunshine, Chickasaw kachina, spirit of the woods, shaman of the trees, voice 
of the forest.”

     The soggy man then turned his gaze to the little horse in the shadows.








     “And that’s Onomea,” the leprechaun said, “a gift to yours truly from the star 
people.”

     The man could not answer.  His mind had for the moment lost its ability to 
comprehend what his eyes were seeing.  

     “Snap out of it lad.  You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the leprechaun said.

     “Why not a ghost?” the man asked.  “I was lost in the storm and drawn to the 
fire…now I’m looking at an elf, a fairy and the tiniest horse I’ve ever seen…is…that 
horse blue?”

     “Aye lad. That it is.  But don’t ya now be confusing me with an elf.  Elves are 
rascals!  Mischievous, lazy, knuckleheaded, pranksters that don’t have the brains 
God gave a bowl of Mrs. Murphy’s chowder!  I, for your enlightenment, am a 
leprechaun.  A creature much higher evolved than the knuckle dragging, mouth 
breathing, snotmongers that elves are known to be.”

     The kachina glared at him.  “Sword of the protector of St. Patrick?” she asked.

     “And who are you to be questioning me?” The leprechaun replied.  “You’re a mere 
three hundred years old.  What would you know?”

     The kachina rolled her eyes.

     “And who sir do we have the pleasure of talking to?” the leprechaun asked the 
man.

     The man swallowed, wiped his face again and blinked.  

     “Fredrick,” the man said.  His eyes darted back and forth suddenly afraid of 
offering something as personal as his name to ones so obviously magical.  
“Fredrick,” he said again with more courage. “Edward Theodore Fredrick.  
Woodcutter.”  He looked at the pretty kachina.  “I’m honored.”


     There was a little bit of laughter.  Then more.

     “But I don’t believe in little magic people,” the woodcutter said.

     “And I don’t believe in smelly giants!” the leprechaun replied.






     “How can you not?” asked the kachina.  “We are here.  We are real.”

     “But the likes of you are just story stuff”

     “Oh and I suppose if you met him you’d be a kickin’ ole Saint Nicholas in the 
shin?” the leprechaun asked.

     “But how, why…” the woodcutter stammered.

     “That we have been brought together is a sign the Great Spirit has something 
extraordinary for us to experience,” the kachina said.  “This is the only reason your 
world and ours cross.”

     “Wha-what?” the woodcutter was still confused by all that was happening.

     “A great event will soon happen,” the kachina said.

     “What kind of event?” the woodcutter asked.

     “We will not know till the spirits are ready for us to know.”

     “Spirits, wee people, little blue horses, what else…?”  His words stopped.  His 
mouth stayed open.  He watched as a tiny ball of light floated up from behind the 
ears of the blue horse.  The tiny light left a trail of sparkles as it began flying in tight 
little circles. 

     “Oh yes,” said the leprechaun.  “We have the pleasure of being accompanied 
with a genuine pixie.  Mr. Eddy Teddy Freddy, this is Pesky.  Pesky, say hello to the 
woodcutter.”

     The pixie, being very shy, did not say hello.  Instead, she began flying in circles 
around the woodcutter’s head while laughing at him. 

     “Now you see why we call her Pesky,” the kachina said.

     The pixie flew up as high as she could to the top of where the stone steps and 
the vines came together. 

     “Hey everyone!” she said, “There are feet up here.”







     “Feet?” the leprechaun asked.

     Then Onomea began to whinny and the hair on everyone began to stand up.
Everything turned white.  Everything around them exploded.  Eye burning, white-hot 
light.  Brain numbing, brilliance.  Power that would have killed them all had it not 
been channeled through the vines into the ground.  The sound of a thousand 
cannons firing at once.  Sound powerful enough to split rock.  The sound of 
immeasurable power tapping out of the storm, and funneling around them.  The 
sound of the sap in the giant old vines turning to steam, exploding, and crushing the 
stone and masonry beneath.  The sound of stone crashing to the ground.  All 
together it was a terrible, terrible, terrible sound.  But no one heard it.  They all were 
unconscious. 

     The first thing the leprechaun became aware of was the stinging, ringing pain in 
his head.  If that wasn’t bad enough, now he felt something wet and as cold as a 
stream of snow melting, sliding across his forehead, dripping down his ears and 
running down his neck like ice water. 

     “Yeaow!” He said jerking and opening his eyes to the kachina wiping a gash on 
his head.  He sat up and looked around.  The bright morning sunshine told him that 
the storm and the last thing he remembered were long gone.   Birds sang 
everywhere celebrating surviving the storm.  Broken limbs and piles of leaves were 
everywhere.  The little blue horse grazed nearby.  A large red mark stained her 
cheek.  In pain, she held her left rear leg of the ground and halfway down her tail a 
portion of the hair was missing.  He looked around to where they had hid from the 
storm.  

     “It’s gone.” he said.  There was now a pile of rubble where there had once 
been…”What’s that thing?” he said not expecting an answer.

     “A statue” the kachina said.

     “Is that so?  And how would you be knowing that?” he said.

     “I looked.” she answered

     The leprechaun then looked at the kachina.  She looked untouched but very tired. 








     “What happened?” he asked.

     “Lightning hit the statue.”  She wiped a gash on his forehead.  “Onomea nearly 
got her leg broke.  Pesky is fine.  You finally woke up and the woodcutter is sleeping 
behind you.”

     The leprechaun reached up and carefully rubbed the large bump on his head.  He 
turned and looked at the woodcutter lying under a beautiful newly woven blanket of 
field grasses. 


     “He looks dead…” the leprechaun said…”but a dead man couldn’t snore that 
loud!”

     “He’s not well,” said the kachina.  “After our little shelter exploded he lay in the 
rain and got quite chilled.

     The leprechaun slowly stood up.  “And what about you beautiful?”

     The kachina smiled at him.  “I’m tired, but I will make it.”

     “Tired?”  said the leprechaun.  “You’re three hundred years old…what’s not to be 
tired?”  The leprechaun looked back at the woodcutter then he took the kachina’s 
hands and looked at them.  They were stained with earth and herbs.  Her eyes 
looked sleepy.  “I assume you have been healing again.  No wonder you’re tired.”

     The leprechaun stretched and hobbled over to the snoring woodcutter.  He 
tapped the woodcutter on the shoulder with his boot.  There was a sharp ascending 
snort and the woodcutter’s eyes fluttered.

     “Top ‘o the mornin’ to ya Mr. Eddy Teddy Freddy.”

     The woodcutter groaned.

     The leprechaun leaned over him. “I can assure you that you won’t be needing the 
services of St. Peter any time soon.”

     The woodcutter began to cough.








     “Tell you what I’m going to do,” the leprechaun said.  “What you need is a good 
fire to warm your bones.  I’ll be back shortly.”

     The kachina gave the woodcutter a drink as the leprechaun made his way 
through the debris.  He began to see pieces of smooth worked stone that easily 
showed they had once been part of an impressive statue.  Large and small limbs 
torn from oak and pine were piled everywhere among the broken stone.  The 
leprechaun reached the base of the statue where they had been together and began 
to search the pile of stones and limbs.  

     “Hoo hoooo!” could be heard a short time later.  “I found me pipe…I found me 
magic bag!”



     Though the wood was wet, soon the leprechaun had a significant fire going near 
the woodcutter’s feet.  The kachina and the pixie went to explore the meadow and 
look for berries.  The leprechaun mixed a strong potion that he gave to the 
woodcutter to drink.

     “This will light a fire in your innards.”  he said.

     The sun climbed and the air warmed.  The kachina and the pixie returned with a 
freshly woven basket full of berries.  The woodcutter sat up and they all dined on 
fresh dewberries while recalling recent events, laughing and warming themselves 
between the fire and the sun.  After a few hours the woodcutter could stand and the 
ladies went in search of food again.  The woodcutter and the leprechaun began to 
walk slowly toward the debris of the collapsed monument.  


     “What is it?” the man asked.

     “It appears to be a statue and from what I have seen, I believe it’s a lass,” the 
woodcutter said.

     The woodcutter stepped with great difficulty over the pieces of exploded vine 
stalks and chunks of cracked and broken stone littered with leaves and branches.  
Still wrapped in the warm thick blanket the kachina had woven for him, the 
woodcutter stopped and slowly reached down to pick up a piece of carefully 
worked stone.  His hands trembled as his fingertips neared what appeared to be a 
delicate lady’s hand.  A tear surprised him as he picked up the white stone carving 
as carefully as if it were alive and he was afraid of waking who it belonged to.  He 
turned it over slowly, gently wiping away pieces of wet leaves stuck to it.  The 
woodcutter was overcome with the beauty of the hand and without thought; he 
dropped the blanket and went searching for the rest of the statue.  He began looking 
under branches and piles of leaves for any piece of the statue he could find.  Near 
the base of the statue he found the feet.  Small, delicate feet, wearing sandals, and 
flowing robes, with edges of intricate embroidery.

“Now it makes sense laddy,” the leprechaun said.  “The last thing I remember last 
night was Pesky saying she saw feet.”

     The woodcutter looked at the royally clad feet and the enchantingly delicate hand 
and something welled up inside, possessing him with the burning desire to 
understand who they belonged to.  The woodcutter placed the feet aside and began 
rebuilding the stone column that stood between the stepped foundation and the 
statue.  It did not take him long till he had puzzled the stone rubble back together 
and had the feet of the statue back on top.  The woodcutter found a large and quite 
heavy section of legs and flowing garments.  


     The kachina and pixie returned with a basket full of fruit.  She had found more 
dewberries and had also found early raspberries and a thicket of wild plums.  The 
woods fairy, the leprechaun and the pixie watched the woodcutter struggle with the 
stone.

     “It looks like the healing I did on him worked well, “the kachina said.  

     “Harrumph!” the leprechaun said.  “It was my magic potion.”

     “Your magic potion…my magic blanket had more to do with it than your silly 
potion.” The kachina said.  

     “My magic!”  The leprechaun said. 

     “My magic!”  the kachina said, then she bit her lip, picked up a plum and beaned 
the leprechaun right in the forehead.








     “Ow!”  he said, turning away grumbling “stupid fairies!”

     The leprechaun and the fairy walked toward the foundation.

     “Look!  Look! It fits!” the woodcutter said excitedly.

     He had maneuvered the large section to a point where it did indeed fit back 
together and balance perfectly.  It was obvious that this was a fine statue of a great 
lady.  Now the woodcutter could think of nothing else but trying to put the rest of the 
statue back together.  He still carried the delicate hand as he franticly searched for 
the rest of the pieces of the statue.  He located a section that fit right against the 
statue’s feet.  It was a large block with the lower legs of a dog, strong, and noble 
legs.  The legs looked like the dog was a companion to the lady in the statue.  Maybe 
a guardian!  Maybe a friend!

     The leprechaun,  the kachina, and the pixie munched on the fruit as the wood- 
cutter worked like a mad man only once stopping to throw a handful of berries into 
his mouth and go right back to searching for more of the statue.  The leprechaun 
and the kachina were familiar with magic and could recognize that something 
wonderful was happening.  The leprechaun pulled out his pipe and lit it.  

     “Now that looks like a man possessed…in search of a dream,” he said. 

     “Do you think he can put it back together again?” asked the Kachina.

     “If he can’t it won’t be for lack of trying.  At least at the rate he’s going it won’t be 
long till we know.”

     By late afternoon most of the statue had been incredibly balanced back together.  
The woodcutter had found his axe and fashioned together an A-frame ladder from 
nearby saplings and fallen limbs.  With the finesse of a dedicated artist he carefully 
placed the hand he had first found atop the outstretched arm.  

     “Don’t breathe on it laddy or she’ll all come back down.” the leprechaun said.

     He was right.  The graceful statue was so perfectly balanced the pieces stood 
without mortar.  The woodcutter climbed down to survey the progress. 







     “You’ve done a fine job there lad.  Now go and find the rest,” the leprechaun said.

     “Yes.” the woodcutter said and without another moments hesitation he was off 
and searching for the still missing pieces.  

     All the easy to find pieces had been found.  There was one pile of leaves held 
down by a large storm torn oak limb that had not been searched yet.  This was the 
only place left that could possibly hide the dog and the top of the statue. 

     “I would help ya lad, but I don’t want to slow ya down.”  The leprechaun said to 
the man who was already tugging at the sprawling oak limb.  The leprechaun and the 
kachina looked at each other then back at the woodcutter who was now near a fever 
pitch trying to finish the great puzzle before them.  

     “I think he is in love!” the kachina whispered to the leprechaun.

     The leprechaun looked back at the woods fairy with surprise.

     “What…naaw…ya think…but how?” the leprechaun stammered.  

     “I found her! I found her!”   the woodcutter said.

     The leprechaun and the kachina ran to see.  The stone head was still covered 
with a small branch with thick leaves.  The woodcutter looked up to see if his new 
friends were watching.  When all eyes were on the bust he grasped the twig with its 
dense cluster of leaves and lifted it free of the sculpture.  

     “Oh my!”  the woodcutter said as he sank to his knees before the bust.  “She’s 
beautiful.”

“Oh my!”  said the kachina.

“Oh my!” said the leprechaun.  “I think you are right, he is in love.”


     The sun was nearly on the horizon as he carried the bust to the foundation then 
began the exhausting task of raising it to the top.  The stone was large and very 
heavy.  He strained as he climbed the wobbly ladder. 









     “This is kinda scary, “the leprechaun said.  “Do you think we should help him?”

     The kachina just smiled and took the leprechaun’s hand indicating to him they 
should only watch.  

     The woodcutter set the bust down carefully and gave it a nudge, lining it up.  
Again the pieces fit and balanced perfectly but a small piece was still missing 
between the bust and the torso.  A small patch of sky could be seen clear through.  

    

     “You’re running out of daylight lad,” the leprechaun said as he enjoyed the show.  
“You had better be quick about it if you’re wantin’ to find her heart.”

     The kachina kicked the leprechaun in the shin.

     “Ow!  What did you do that for?” the leprechaun asked.

     “Look at the poor man.”  the kachina said.  “Don’t be playing with words that 
might hurt his feelings.”

     “I wasn’t playing with words…that’s what it bloomin’ looks like!”  the leprechaun 
protested.      
     

     The woodcutter having glanced at the low sun was already looking for the last 
pieces in hopes of finding them before dark.  The shadows were getting long as he 
frantically searched the remaining piles of debris. 

     Nothing.

     He began flinging branches and kicking piles of leaves around.  No more carved 
stone.  The leprechaun and the kachina began searching too.

     “Pesky!” the kachina called.  “Pesky!”







     Soon the tiny air borne light skimmed across the meadow to the kachina.

     “Pesky!  You must fly high and see if you can find any missing statue pieces,” the 
kachina said.  “Hurry before it gets dark!”

     “Roger that Houston.”  the pixie said while saluting the kachina.  “We’re go for 
search mode.”

     The tiny creature began its favorite move, a tight climbing spiral.  At about a 
hundred feet she began a dizzy ever-expanding spiral at a speed that made it hard to 
see her.  

     The kachina climbed upon the little horse that now was walking on all four legs.  
They began a back and forth search expanding down wind of the storm’s path.

     The sun touched the horizon and the woodcutter was in a near panic.

     “Calm down lad.”  the leprechaun said.  You’re actin’ a wee bit mad.”

     “I’ve got to find her heart,” the woodcutter muttered as he wildly kicked at any leaf 
that might conceal something.  “I’ve got to find her heart,” he muttered over and over.  

     The kachina looked up from the ground to see an excited pixie fly like a bullet 
directly at her face. 

     “I found something!”  she said with great excitement.  “But it’s too big for me to 
carry!”

     The kachina and the little blue horse raced after the fuzzy ball of light. 

     “Did you hear that now?”  the leprechaun asked the woodcutter. 

     “Hear what?”

     “All the commotion?”

     “I didn’t hear anything.”







     “Aye lad, you might have the height but you’ve not the ears of the wee people.  It 
sounds like the others have found something.”

     The woodcutter began to run to the kachina already on her way back with the 
find.  He was at a loss when the kachina handed him a magnificent bird carved from 
the same soft white stone.  They all walked back as he turned the bird over and over.  
It was perfect.  With detail so exquisite that except for it being stone it looked real.  


     “I can’t find where it broke off,” the woodcutter said.  He then walked around and 
around the statue but could find nowhere the bird seemed to fit.  
     
     “Pardon me laddy, but do you think that maybe she is releasing he bird?”

     The woodcutter looked up at the statue’s out-stretched arm, which did look like 
she was releasing the bird.  Again he slowly climbed the wobbly ladder.  Exhaustion 
had eaten away nearly all of his strength making the small bird seem much heavier 
than it could be.  Sweat mixing with the grime from the storm that coated him.  The 
salty mix burned in his eyes.  His foot slipped and he crashed to the ground.  

     “Do you think that we should help now?” asked the leprechaun.

     Again she quietly took his hand and they just watched. 

     The woodcutter raised himself and still clutching the unblemished bird, again 
began the ascent up the ladder.  As he did he kept turning the bird over and over, 
looking for where it had broken off.  At the top of the ladder he held the bird out and 
tried to understand why the bird and the statue showed no sign of being attached.  
His emotions began to crumble.  Exhaustion and his inability to understand and 
restore the statue welled up and he began to cry.   

     “I don’t understand “he said to the statue as more tears came.  “I can’t find the 
dog, I can’t tell where the bird goes, I can’t find her heart.”

     “Maybe the dog ran off with it.”  the leprechaun said.  “Oooff!” he exhaled as the 
kachina elbowed him in the ribs.  








     The woodcutter gently placed the bird in the open hand of the statue though 
neither showed a mark of having been together.  He felt awkward placing it there but 
could find nowhere else to put it.  His body shaking from exhaustion began to shake 
the ladder so he stepped down two rungs.  The sun was nearly down.  A wide deep 
red arc was sinking behind the dense trees of the distant ridge directly behind the 
statue.  A thin fog drifted up from a nearby creek letting the last rays of the sun cast 
beams about the statue.  One sunbeam shown through the gap in the statue.  A 
thick mix of grimy salty sweat and tears burned in the woodcutter’s eyes.  He 
released the ladder with one hand and wiped the liquid from his eyes and 
instinctively slung the mix from his hand.  When he opened his eyes he saw the rim 
of the sun throwing it’s last but powerful light through the hole in the statue.  A few 
drops of the liquid mix landed on the statue’s cheek.  More tears came to the 
woodcutter as he felt somehow he had soiled the statue.  He reached to the statue to 
wipe the tear off but it was quicker than he and ran down the statue’s face and 
dripped down upon her chest and followed a fold of her garment to hang in the 
sunlight at the top of the hole in the middle of the statue.  

     The woodcutter wiped his eyes again.  Then he reached out to remove the 
offending tear glistening in the sunlight.  As his fingers, the sunlight, and the tears all 
came together, there was a small explosion of light, sound and movement next to 
him.  Feathers brushed his face.  He reeled back in surprise seeing a perfect white 
bird launch into the sky.  Again he lost his balance and was going down.  There was 
another flash of light and someone grabbed him and pulled him back into balance.  
He had been looking at the sharp corners of the stone steps below him where his 
head had been aiming.  When he looked up expecting to see the leprechaun 
somehow assisting him, he was shocked to see not the leprechaun or the statue, but 
a real live beautiful woman.   For a few moments no one could speak. 

      “Would you be a gentleman and help me down please?”  the lady asked the 
woodcutter.

     The leprechaun and the kachina finally shut their mouths. 

     “Now that’s one I didn’t see coming!” the leprechaun said.

     “I told you he was in love.” The kachina said. 

    







     Twilight filled the meadow and the stars, and fireflies began to come out.  All the 
new friends built a great fire and they talked and laughed.  The kachina danced as 
the leprechaun played the flute, and the pixie laced the night sky with ribbons of 
sparkles.  Before dawn they all said goodbye and then leprechaun, the kachina, the 
pixie and the little blue horse went back to the forest where they again became 
invisible to the big folks.  The lady married the woodcutter and they built a lovely 
home in the glade they named Darby’s Meadow, where they are still together and in 
love.    



     Sometimes,

     at the far end of the meadow,
     when twilight is fading into stars,

     you can just make out, what looks like
     
     a perfect white bird

     and a large noble dog

     frolicking together

     in the rising mists.