Member-only story
A Twig of an Imagination
There is nothing wrong with you that your imagination can’t fix.
When I was just five years of age, I became fascinated by a book that one of my sisters was given as a birthday present. The name of the book was simply Twig. I thought this was really interesting as my family name is Trigg. Possessing the name Trigg, one is subject to many teasings on the variations of the name such as the “trigger” of a gun, Trigger, Roy Roger’s horse, and of course, a small branch on a tree — a twig.
I loved having this book read to me at bedtime and I am sure it influenced my dreams with visions of fairies and other magical creatures for many years.
Even though the story of Twig is about a little girl and fairies, I found it fascinating and magical. That probably had much to do with my maternal grandmother being a somewhat mystical person with a huge, rambling back garden incorporating an orchard, plenty of hiding places for kids games, and, as she told me from time to time with a twinkle in her eye, place for fairies, elves, and goblins to shelter. My grandmother loved butterflies and cultivated a great many plants that attracted them.
