Once upon a time there was a family in desperate need of a house. One day they came upon an old crooked old farmhouse, sitting empty, halfway up a hill. Although it wasn't a terribly fancy house, it was old and drafty, the mother thought it was lovely and promptly fell in love with it.

Looking past the wobbles and imperfections, she thought the old crooked house was actually very pretty and rather grand. She knew there was more to that place than stone and mortar. She could see that there was magic hiding in every nook. Clearly, the earth and trees brimmed with faerie life, the grass was greener and more lush, even the stars twinkled just a little bit brighter from that particular spot.

It is rather lucky that the matron of that family, the one who fell in love with that old place, is quite silly and still believes in faeries and magic or else no one would be the wiser. Instead, that lady gathers up those wonders, those little bits of magic, and pours them out for others to see and enjoy.

And today, in that old crooked house, that lady sits, making messes, spreading wonder and enchantment to anyone clever enough to believe in the magic that wobbly old houses hold.