Here’s a little place in Norwall, Iowa that is fun to visit. It is not a particularly easy bed-and-breakfast to visit, though. To get in, you have to to have a scroll of faery-size and know the right magic word to shrink yourself down to three inches tall, or shorter. And I had to do a drawing of it for this plug because if I took a photo, all you would see is the tree. We Slow Ones, the name by which fairies know stupid humans like you and me, cannot see the faery reality because the faery-glammer makes it all invisible to those with no faery-sight. (And I am not misspelling “faery” simply because the spell-checker hates me and constantly corrects my spelling into proper British-literary spellings for no discernible reason. Rather, the fair folk actually want it spelled like that when it refers to magical things.) If you do decide to visit, be sure to brush up on your spell-casting and be familiar with fairy ways. You will be welcomed at this castle, and they would never think of eating you even if you do taste nice. It is just that, well, faery-secrets are a thing and they make you into one of them to force you to stay there and never reveal their secrets to slow ones. They may also be tempted to turn you into a newt.
You may be asking yourself at this point how it is that I am able to tell you all of this in spite of the paranoid secrecy common to the fairies of North America. I would like to assure you, I am adjusting to life as a newt. And newts do sorta have fingers that can be used for typing. And I can type with my feet too.