This is a story about a garden.

It was full of all types of colourful flowers. Great big
tall ones that swayed in the breeze. Little star
shaped ones all in different shades of blue.

There were roses, red and white and all the colours
in between that climbed over the fences, and
daffodils that burst into beautiful yellows at the first
touch of spring. Lavenders and honeysuckle grew
there, and big fat bumbly bumble bees played in
them all summer long, blundering in and out of the
sweet smelling flowers.

At the bottom of this garden was a little pond where
three fat goldfish swam in the cool water beneath the
lily pads. Sometimes the tabby cat would sit on the
side and doze in the sun. She was far too polite
to try and catch the fish for dinner, and anyway, she
didn't like getting her paws wet. She'd settle herself
all comfy-like on the edge of the pond where she
had a wonderful view of the castle nearby.

If you happened to be walking in this garden you
would see the flowers, the bumbly bees, the little lily
pond with the fat fish, and the oh-so sleepy tabby cat
called Flo.

You would also see the little castle tucked into the
sunny corner by the pond. If you stopped and took
time to really look, you would see the little arched
windows and the tiny little door, all covered in silky
spiderwebs.

If you looked really, really carefully. I mean really,
really, really hard. Maybe even squinting up your
eyes. And stayed really, really still and quiet, you
might just see a tiny little face at one of the windows.
A tiny little face that maybe didn't quite look real.

If you listened as hard as you could, you might even
hear the buzz of little wings. Not the big fat buzzy bee
wings over in the honeysuckle, but a buzz that could
almost be called music. More like a tinkle-buzz than a
bumble-buzz.  

If you stayed even quieter and settled yourself down
in that shady patch, over there beneath the tree, and
kept watching, and if you really, truely believe in
fairies, this is where you just might see one.

Her name is Pollen because her wings are yellow.
She has a tiny yellow dress spun from spider's silk,
just like the silk that drapes the castle. Her wings and
her dress are exactly the same yellow as the pollen
inside the garden flowers.

When the garden is quiet and she thinks that you
have gone, she'll come out and be busy doing her
fairy work. She flits around and does the important
work that keeps the garden full of colour.

Pollen's job is to paint the colours onto the baby
flowers.

Flo watches sometimes, so she knows how the
flowers get their different colours. Just as they are
opening Pollen flits out of her castle with her little
pots of flower paint and quickly brushes the colour
onto the new baby petals.

One day Pollen had to paint the new petunias. Pink
and purple were the petunia colours and Pollen had
been busy with the pink and purple delphiniums all
week. Delphiniums are big, tall flowers. The sort that
like to sway in the breeze.

Well, poor Pollen had been so busy with the delphiniums,
flitting from flower to flower giving their baby petals
their new colours, she had used up most of her pink
and purple paint. Now the petunias were opening and
she wouldn't have enough paint to colour them all.
What was she going to do?

She couldn't do just half of them because that would
be breaking a very important fairy-folk rule.

"Always do your job well and always, always
complete what you start"

No..... Painting only half of the flowers would never
do. It would be a job half done and Pollen always did
her very best. Anyway, if she didn't paint the baby
petals they wouldn't be able to open and then they
would die before they even saw the sun.

Poor, poor Pollen. She checked all her paint pots.
There was lots of yellow for the marigolds, and lots
more red for the late roses, but no matter how hard
she searched, she could find no more pink or purple.
She would have to watch the petunia flowers die
because she couldn't do her job.

She sat and looked out of one of the little arched
windows. Tiny fairy tears splashed onto the sill as
she looked at the little white petunia buds that were
getting ready to open at any moment.

The tabby cat Flo, gave a great big yawn and
stretched in the sun. Pollen watched as Flo settled
herself down again and licked lazily at one of her
tabby striped legs.

That was it! Pollen jumped up and buzzed her wings
excitedly. There was enough pink and purple after all,
and every single baby petal would be able to open.

The next day Flo came ambling down the path, past
the castle draped in spiderwebs and settled herself
down in the sun at the edge of the pond where she
watched the fish for awhile. Then she gazed around
the garden. Her eyes opened wide. Big and round
and very surprised. The petunias were open.
All of them.

Every single petal was painted and reaching up to the
sun. They looked like pink and purple tabby cats
because Pollen had painted them all with tabby
stripes!

Ever since then, Pollen always paints stripes on the
petunias in her garden. And sometimes on the
geraniums as well.



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