I was attracted to my witch tradition in part because it works with the fey (or fairies, or what you will). Contrary to some lore, we find that they like being called with bells. Our fey caller is hung with goat bells.
The fey for us include all spirits that aren’t deities, but I particularly think of nature spirits—the people of the place, whether connected to particular animals, plants, or locations, or to the greater spirit of place. I think also of weather fey.
My father was a weather magician. One year, my mother planted lilacs, and they drooped during a long, hot summer. He got angry and shook his fist at the sky, and an hour later—my mother always said—out of the clear blue a cloud came over their neighborhood, rained on the lilacs, and left.
I haven’t had any successes as spectacular, but before any large event planned for outdoors I check with the local fey to see if we can keep the rain to a sprinkle. Occasionally they just laugh, but often we get a break for ritual.
Particularly if they’re invited.
They’re always invited.