Faery peaches for a faery garden

A couple of weeks go, in Austin, I visited a wonderful nursery called The Great Outdoors. One special area was devoted to faery gardens, miniature gardens with house, tiny plants, rock and crystals for faeries. They ranged from elaborate to quite small; one was even in an old desk drawer. I bought a small one for Elizabeth, partly because I knew she'd like it and partly to thank her for caring for Sophie while I was gone. The faeries, I assured her, would protest her at night.
Now she's gone to Pennsylvania for a visit, and the faery garden is in my house, where I carefully give it just a tiny bit of water--faeries don't need much--every other day.
Last night a neighbor I'd never met (sad commentary) came to the door with three small children in tow. They were sharing an abundance of peaches from their tree--small, tiny peaches like none I've ever seen. But he assured me they were sweet and good--and he was right. I thanked them, all the time holding on to Sophie, so I wasn't the best hostess.
When I took the peaches out of the bag I found a note that said "Peaches from our faery tree." I wish I'd known sooner--I would have invited the children in to see the faery garden. Jacob, who covets the small garden, was thrilled with the peaches. He insisted on putting the bowl next to the garden and said the peaches were for the faeries to eat, one a day. I could not convince him that they came from the faeries for us to eat. He even put the note in the garden, so the faeries would understand.
Isn't it wonderful to have the imagination and belief in faeries, elves and other creatures of the air that a seven-year-old holds to so firmly? It's like magic, and I vow to stop trying to bring too much reality into his world of the imagination. I only wish I could recapture that magic myself.