Someone thinks of a colour. I divine the colour while reciting this poem by Cicely Mary Barker and cutting a flower from tissue paper. The poem was written in 1944 and it perfectly fits this performance.

Early in the mornings,

when children still are sleeping,

Or late, late at night-time,

beneath the summer moon,

What are they doing,

the busy fairy people?

Could you creep to spy them,

in silent magic shoon,

You might learn a secret,

among the garden borders,

Something never guessed at,

that no one knows or thinks:

Snip, snip, snip, go busy fairy scissors,

Pinking out the edges

of the petals of the Pinks

Pink Pinks, white Pinks,

double Pinks, and single,—

Look at them and see

if it’s not the truth I tell!

Why call them Pinks

if they weren’t pinked out by someone?

And what but fairy scissors

could pink them out so well?

Cicely Mary Barker–The Pink Fairies

I discovered this poem when reading a book to my daughter. We get to the last few pages this poem jumps off the page at me. Scissors, flowers and fairies. After a day of practicing cutting these flowers I can’t help ponder if it’s coincidence or fate. For me it was a magical moment.

It’s amazing how moments of inspiration happen if you’re open to noticing them. It’s as if they’re waiting to be found. And when you encounter them what a wonderful feeling that is.

I’ve been performing the cutting of the flowers for a while now. I end by reading the book and telling people that it’s a magic book. It’s magic because it’s the first book that my daughter fell asleep to while reading to her.q