Unmagic...

Magic… what an obviously magical word. It’s a long time since I could be fooled into thinking that the lady had really been sawn in half or actually floated above the floor when the chairs were removed, but it still conjures up all kinds of images in my mind. Of course, there was a time when I accepted magic was real. Like most children I really did believe that Santa’s reindeers could fly and a fairy swapped my tooth for a sixpence when I was asleep at night.

I remember as a child seeing a dwarf for the first time. I’d been taken to a circus, a magical enough place without creatures from fairy tales appearing in the ring. Up until then I’d only seen dwarfs in storybooks along with elves and goblins and gnomes. I spent the rest of the performance waiting for a dragon or a flying horse to turn up. They didn’t of course, but it was a great circus anyway with lions and tigers, elephants, even giraffes and zebras - and it was truly magical.

These days my magic has more to do with the seeds that grow in my garden than unicorns. It’s more about the birds on my bird feeder than magic carpets. Sometimes I find it in the words that occasionally spill out of my mind – not often though. Of course, the red wine helps, but even without it I can sometimes feel or see the magic in a clear evening sky, the branches etched black against the paling blue and the cry of the crow as it watches the sun go down.

Yes, magic is something you make and, even though it gets harder and harder to make with each passing day, I think I’ll keep on trying.

Not today though. There is no magic in the air today. Sorry.