A fiddle opens the air with a warm, rich, hum. A mandolin breaks into shimmering waves of sound. A wood flute whistles in front, calling a tune from long ago, and with it, those who the song was written for.
As each measure joins the last and a sound scape is created. Movement, and light emerge in a small cabin tucked away in the country side.
Sprites, Nymphs, and the Far Darrig dance from the notes played from the instruments. Filling the small shelter with magic. Trees grew from the floors and small glens by the wood stove. Soft moss blanket the floor and the beds, making them all the more comfortable. The dancing and feeling of peace was soft and warm like the afternoon sun that peered in through the overgrown kitchen window.
As the song ended, the sprites said their goodbyes with a bow and returned to their own homes. inside the instruments as they are placed aside until tomorrow. When all are rested and the next day comes. the dance will be resumed as if it never ended. The Far Darrig will play his tricks and cause his mischiefe, and the others will play along, and do as they have always done- all through the afternoon sun.