Pixie Pockets

In the sunlit corners of old gardens, where the wildflowers lean close and the bees trade secrets, the pixies had their ways. They needed little — just a pocket to carry what mattered: a petal plucked at dawn, a smooth stone warmed by the sun, a handkerchief for happy tears. Light on the wrist, easy to slip on before darting through the tall grass or spinning beneath the open sky.

Their Pixie Pockets held small treasures: a note folded twice, a mirror for checking the sparkle in their eyes, a charm to bring luck on the breeze. Not heavy, never clumsy — just enough to keep close the little things that make the day shine.

So when you tuck your phone, your sunglasses, your bits and bobs inside, you’re carrying a whisper of their garden wisdom: travel light, dance often, and always leave room for one more treasure.