May 31, 2014 - Lily Ponds

I might as well set out the rules right now for lily ponds so that there will be no confusion later on.  Rumor has it in the forest (and I've got a very good source) that there are three stages of magic at a lily pond, depending on the development of the lily pads.  Number one:  If you kiss a frog when there are no lily pads on the pond, you will turn into a frog yourself.  That's why there are so many frogs in the world--too many eager beavers.  Number two:  If you kiss a frog when there are only lily pads on the pond, you will develop cold feet that will last for the rest of your life.  Should you plant a second kiss, your feet will be wet too, although apparently some people are willing to risk that.  Number three:  If you kiss a frog when there are lily pads AND lily flowers on the pond, you may end up with a prince or princess.  What you would do with that prince or princess after getting him or her is entirely up to you, but you had better be prepared for a lot of bowing and scraping.  Still, it would be great fun to hang out with royalty.  At least if it were dinnertime.  And there was a cook nearby.  And no flies, definitely no flies.

May 30, 2014 - Duck Musings

Then again, it might be best if I were to come back in my next life as a duck.  This fine fellow gleams blue at the head, but look at the feathers on his back!  They almost look like an intricate polished wood pattern.  Is he unusual?  He is in my book.  He is a mallard, and his head is supposed to be green and not blue.  If you check into bird literature, you will be told that it is just iridescent feathers that seem to be blue but are really green.  If you read blogs of birdwatchers, however, you will hear a different story.  Some have captured pictures of male mallards side by side, one with a green head, the other with a blue.  Like me, they believe it is a true blue color and not a trick of the light.  There were plenty of other males in this pond, but this was the only blue-headed male.  What a fine specimen he was!  Yes, he is a true blue-headed male mallard duck, uncommon but not impossible.  Like me.

May 29, 2014 - Reflecting

Today I woke up with fairy vision!  I knew it was just a matter of time before I started seeing like them.  The only thing is, I'm not used to seeing like this.  I couldn't decide which way was up and which way was down.  Everything seemed to reflect everything else.  In the end, I decided that both ways were up and both ways were down, depending upon how I looked at it.  And it seems to me that if this is the case, I may have been missing a great deal in my life up to this point.  Imagine if everything were itself and also its opposite at the same time.  I guess we would all just be one thing, with separate existences being only a matter of perception.  The fairies may be on to something here.  Don't tell them, though, because it will just go to their heads.

May 28, 2014 - New Growth

Ah, this is the time of year when new growth is everywhere!  It's finally Spring, and the "paddy green" color is everywhere you look.  It won't last forever, of course.  In summer it will be replaced by the deeper green colors, but for now, it's so joyful and pretty!  I love to touch the new growth, especially on pine and spruce trees.  It's soft and springy, kind of like a baby.  I suppose in a way it is a baby, although it's a continuation of the same plant.  This is the time of year when all things seem possible, when newness is around every corner.  If you planted secret seeds in your heart late last fall and let them overwinter in your soul, now is when they will begin to grow.  Now is your beginning, the beginning of everything.  So take heart!  If you have been troubled, now is the time to go out into nature and reconnect with the new energy pulsating everywhere.  Now is the time to realize your goals.  Now is the time to remember who you wanted to be.  Go into the woods and breathe deeply several times.  Inhale the life force.  When you leave, you will know what to do.

May 27, 2014 - Everything Green

I heard a story whispered once somewhere in the woods--I can't recall where--of a beautiful princess whose heart was filled with an unimaginable sorrow.  All joy had left her, and every day she cried and cried.  Tears flowed from her eyes like a river, washing and washing rock-strewn banks.  Every day her eyes would spill forth the sorrow of her heart, and her wailing could be heard along misty shores and foggy valleys.  People began to fear her tears, which raked across their own cheeks, and they covered their ears, trying to blot out the eerie keening.  But it was all in vain, for the tears flowed and flowed, and everywhere the land was drowned in dark sorrow.

Until it wasn't.  One day, so they still whisper, the princess looked up from her misery.  Everywhere she cast her eyes, the world suddenly became green.  And she saw the green and knew that it was good.  Then with her eyes finally emptied and her soul finally filled, she disappeared on a sunbeam.

May 26, 2014 - The Old Farm Hand

Once upon a time an old man lived on an old farm that had been in his family for many generations.  He worked very hard on the farm--twice as hard as other farmers--and it showed by the beauty of the farm and the lush and abundant produce, which he sold for a very good profit.  Of course, he hadn't always been old.  He had inherited the farm when he was young from a great uncle, who had in turn inherited it himself.  His great uncle showed him all the work that needed to be done, which was quite extensive.  It took a while to learn, but the old uncle insisted things must be done his way or not at all.  One day, his great uncle took him out to the back of an old barn and showed him some old apple trees.  He told the man that he must tenderly care for the trees, that he could eat and sell the fruit (which was the finest in the land), but he could never cut one bit of wood from any of the old apple trees for they were magic trees that guarded the farm and kept it so beautiful and lush.  He had a gleam in his eye as he told his nephew this, which did not go unnoticed.

The next day his great uncle disappeared and was never heard from again.  So the young man began to work the farm.  He worked year after year until he was old and crooked and bent, but he kept the beauty of the farm intact as instructed.  All the while, he kept thinking of the old apple trees out back.  He always counted them--16 in number--and wondered what kind of magic they possessed.  Finally, he decided he would pass on the farm to one of his nephews.  He also decided that he would cut one of the trees down when he left and keep the magic wood for himself, which he was certain would keep him healthy far into his old age.  So he sent for his nephew and went through the same procedure with his nephew that had been done when he himself was a young man.  His nephew was a quick learner, and finally he showed him the 16 old apple trees out back.  With a gleam in his eye, he told his nephew of the magic they possessed and all the rules that went with them.  His nephew agreed to the terms and was fascinated by the idea of magic old apple trees.

The next morning the old man crept out very early with an axe in his hand, determined to take one of the old apple trees down and leave with it that very morning.  How his eyes gleamed as he gazed at the magic old apple trees!  So enthralled was he that he did not notice an old root sticking up from the ground, which tripped him and nearly sent him flat on his face.  When he collected himself and went to move, he noticed that the root had somehow wrapped completely around his ankle.  He stared in disbelief, but before he could say a word, another thick root quickly wrapped around his other ankle, holding him firmly in place.  Now he began to panic and tried to cry out, but roots and stems and bark were flying out of the soil everywhere and wrapping around him with lightning speed!  Within a couple of minutes, he was completely covered by bark, branches, twigs and leaves.  In fact, he was entombed within an apple tree.  He tried to cry out, but now he had no voice.  And now he realized that he had become an old apple tree himself.

Later that morning, the young nephew came out back and stared at the old apple trees, counting them--17 in all.  He wondered about the magic they possessed and thought it must be great, indeed, to have kept the farm so beautiful and profitable.  He decided that he would work very hard just as his old uncle had asked him to do, but that one day he would come and take some of the magic apple wood for himself when he retired to ensure his health and success into his old age before passing the farm on to a nephew.  "After all," he reasoned with himself, "I will deserve one of these old apple trees for my very own."

May 25, 2014 - Mushroom Madness Again

Now what?  What shall I make of this?  I have never seen a mushroom like this before.  It is a sickly greenish on top.  Could it be a member of the bolete family that has just gone way past its time?  That's what I want to think, but I sadly fear that somehow the fairies know I am on to their favorite disguise.  And what's more, I have put you on to it too.  So, where do we go from here?  This is definitely from the Unseelie Court as the Seelie Court would never produce so barbarous an image.  In any event, I must be careful where I walk.  Please . . . don't eat the mushrooms.  If you find a trail of them, follow them at your own peril.  Perhaps they will bring you to the "Queen of Fair Elfland" as described by Thomas the Rhymer.  Then, too, perhaps they will bring you to the Cailleach.  Not always a bad thing, I guess.  But do be careful just the same.

Of course, this leads me back to what I have been saying all along.  I must befriend one of the fairies.  But how?  There are times, though, when I feel I am being followed.  Perhaps one of them wishes to befriend me?  Anything is possible here in Maine.

May 24, 2014 - Seagulls

And I think that if I were a seagull, I might do exactly what these two are doing.  The tide goes out and the sun warms the seaweed that grows on the ledge.  Many creatures like to come and sun themselves here, including ducks, loons, cormorants, and snowy egrets.  A seagull's eyesight is very keen and he can see well below the surface of the water, even from quite a distance in the air.  These two will wait for a school of fish to come near the surface, and then they'll begin to quickly dive from the air and catch them.  They face into the wind whenever they sit so that they can take off easily into the air, taking full advantage of air currents.  They can also drink salt water.  They have a special pair of glands just above their eyes that flushes the salt from their system through small openings in their bills.

Like all creatures except man, they are perfectly adapted to their environment.  I can't help but envy them as I lumber about my business.  It's so embarrassing to be a human sometimes.

May 23, 2014 - Mushroom Madness

Curiouser and curiouser.  This fellow stood out as if to greet me today, appearing suddenly from nowhere and with quite a hastily-made disguise.  A mushroom, you say?  You may say it if it makes you feel better.  There is no way in the world I will believe this is accidental.  It occurs to me that it could be a warning, however.  The fairies do not like when I expose them, although how they found out about yesterday's post is beyond me.  One does not usually think of a fairy as having internet access, but stranger things have happened here in Maine.  I am certain that I locked my handwritten journal, although it was misplaced a bit today.  They may be worried that if the world learns the truth about Maine being one of their last strongholds in this country, there will be no end to the tourists coming, poking and prodding around as they do.  The fairies like when we do not believe in their existence because it gives them license to be even more rambunctious than ever.  Having said that, this particular fellow seems as though he may be part of the Unseelie Court, and if that is the case, then my situation is even more precarious than I thought.  I must get an ally at the Seelie Court.  I will have to be more careful with my journal.

May 22, 2014 - All In A Row

"Don't look too closely, weary passerby.  Keep walking and take no notice of us.  We are small things of the Earth.  What importance could we have to you?  We are unnoticeable denizens of the wild, and that is how we want you to see us."  Thus spake the fairy tribe.  I chanced upon these pretty little mushrooms all in a row.  I'd made a sudden turn around a bend, and they weren't expecting me, you see.  This is why they hastily jumped up and drew their magic cloaks about them, but they didn't have enough time to make it seem "real."  Look closely.  Can you see their faces?  I can point out at least a few quite easily.  Tricky fairies!  Of course, one of their favorite places to congregate is mushroom patches and rings (and underneath old apple trees, but that's another story).  So it only makes sense that they would choose to disguise themselves as mushrooms.  And how fitting, if you think about it.  Not quite a plant.  Not quite an animal.  Something in between.

And what were they up to, you ask?  Isn't it obvious?  They were in the middle of trying to bewitch the lobster traps you see in the background.  When a lobsterman pulls up a bewitched trap, it appears to be empty.  As soon as he opens it, quick fairy hands grab the lobster and whisk it away, and then the unsuspecting lobsterman lowers the trap in the ocean again.  You can avoid this problem by leaving out a saucer of milk now and then.  Fairies love milk, but it must be raw, unpasteurized, and unhomogenized.  Or don't leave it out, for all I care.  But don't come crying to me when you've no lobsters.  Clever little fairies!

May 21, 2014 - The Living Earth

There are some who say that the Earth itself is a creature and that every living thing on it makes up a portion of her body.  Just as all the individual cells in our body cooperate to form each one of us, so too do all the living organisms on the Earth cooperate to form her.  It's strange and unnerving to think of yourself as a mere cell.  We all know that at any given moment we can give up several of our own bodily cells to death and not even notice it.  Following that logic, it would mean that if several of us died, possibly even large populations, the Earth would not even notice it.  This thought makes us feel small, unimportant, and even unwanted.  However, that is the wrong way to think about it.  While it is true that none of our bodies are reliant on any single cell, the conglomeration of our cells makes us into an extremely unique and unrepeatable person.  If this is true, it is also true that while the Earth is not reliant on any single one of us, the conglomeration and especially cooperation of all of us makes us into one whole, extremely unique, unrepeatable planet.  We would do well to remember this.

So as I sit here on this day and look at this very unique sky and cloud formation, I am aware that I will never see quite the same sky patterns again.  They are unique, like me.  They are more fleeting than me, and yet they continue on in different patterns.  When I am gone, others will continue on in different patterns.  People will come and go, of course, but there will never be another you or me exactly as we are now.  We are unique, and because of that, we are necessary and we are wanted.  And maybe, just maybe, we are even loved.

May 20, 2014 - Bird Masters

In my next life I aspire to be a bird.  Able to travel anywhere, lord of all he surveys, fearless and free.  He's comfortable on the land, weightless in the air, and sails over the water without a ship.  Very few creatures hunt him, and he does not have the shy and nervous demeanor of prey.  No, he is bold and superior and kingly.  Clearly, there can be no creature more finely adapted to this Earth than a bird.

May 19, 2014 - Beauty

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or so I am told, and before today I always believed that was true.  Then I ran across this domestic Chinese swan goose today--that is, I beheld him--and I couldn't help but marvel at the uniqueness of every creature on this Earth.  He was very odd-looking and very bold, this goose was, although I am quite certain he thought he was beautiful.  And how did I know this?  By his confidence, of course.  He strutted right out to meet me to see if I had any treats for him.  When he found out that I was empty-handed, he turned his considerable nose up at me and promptly snubbed me.  He swam away regally, quite convinced he was a dapper fellow, indeed.  So snobby was he that I could not help but giggle and think perhaps beauty was not in the eye of the beholder but of the beheld.  So snobby was he that I found myself being embarrassed to be human.  Now, there is a lesson in there somewhere for me, should I decide to pursue it.

May 18, 2014 - Veils

Ah, the veil of fog is upon us.  Most people think fog is just a cloud of water droplets near the Earth that limits visibility.  Certainly, that can be true at times.  But there is another kind of fog, a fog that acts as a veil.  When this veil descends, portals open to other dimensions and realities.  Creatures can easily hop from one world to another, and the thicker the fog, the easier the transition.  Fairies use fog extensively, but so do other magical creatures.  What saddens me is that there was a time when humankind used the fog as well.  In those days, contact with other worlds was frequent, and our priorities were dramatically different because our knowledge included much more than just the physical plane one now exclusively sees.  These days, hardly anyone knows the true nature of fog or how to make the transition from one world to another.  Listen for the clanking bells in the distance.  Follow them.  They call you.

May 17, 2014 - Bones

Do not be afraid of me!  Do not recoil when you see me.  Do not avert your eyes.  Do not run away.  When I was in the physical land of the living--that is, when my body was animated--I was a deer.  I ran in the forests and drank from the streams.  I ate flowers and shrubbery.  I frolicked with my friends.  I delighted in feeling the sun on my back, the wind in my fur, the rain on my face, and the earth on my hooves.  But then I died.  It was my time to go.  I stumbled on a rock outcrop and fell into the ocean.  I was swept away so quickly, and there I drowned.  Then the ocean brought me back to the land and placed me in this corner of the cove.  Small animals, insects, bacteria, and fungi have already been here and taken what they needed.  Now my bones wait to slowly disappear.  The ocean will make quick work of me.

I am not filled with sorrow but, instead, peace.  I lived a good and free life.  I was happy and filled with the joy and energy of the Sun.  I participated in everything the universe had to offer me, and I still participate in a way.  Life still goes on for many other animated creatures, and parts of me go with them.  The essence of who I was--the essence of the deer--that is still with me and always will be.  That which invokes the experience of being a deer is still a part of me and every other deer that ever existed or will exist.  I still run with the herd because I am the herd.  Do not cry for me, for I am free.

May 16, 2014 - Adolescent Ents

Meanwhile, back in the pitch pine forest, two trees have taken up residency.  They look to be about the same age and are growing right near one another.  I can't help but think there is communication between the two, and it is anyone's guess what must have happened to skew the growth of the tree on the left.  It occurs to me that these two could be adolescent Ents.  And why not?  I have never seen an adolescent Ent, much less a baby Ent.  They have to begin somewhere, just like all of us.  I highly doubt they are mobile as babies, or else we'd all see little Ents running everywhere.  And since we don't see little Ents running anywhere at all, it leads one to believe that they are not mobile when they are very young.  If they were, we would have seen something by now due to the notoriously bizarre temperament of the Ents.  The adults simply could not have kept them under wraps this long.  No, I think they gain mobility at a certain age . . . but when?  That's the question.  The disobedient brat on the left obviously ignored curfew, and to her own peril, it seems.  Ah, fickle Ents.

May 15, 2014 - Gods

Ancient man looked up to the heavens and saw gods.  The sun beat down its hot energy, the rains cooled it off, the clouds brought the lightning, and the wind brought the changes.  He stared and pointed at the sky, exclaiming at the powerful omens he saw.  He envisioned battles in the sky, battles between darkness and light, and then he mimicked them in his own life.  When he needed guidance, he looked to the sky and petitioned the deities.  When he was sorrowful, he sent his burnt offerings to the sky.  When he was fearful, he turned a cautious eye to the happenings above.  And the gods responded.  One way or another, an answer always came.  Is it no wonder ancient man did this?  Should we call him primitive?  Shall we speak of the foolishness of ancient man?  Or should we look up as well and avail ourselves to the unending beauty and mystery just above our own heads?  Look up, young friends.  Make your petitions.  The answer always comes.

May 14, 2014 - The Harpswell Sound

It occurred to me today, as I looked out into the body of water known as the Harpswell Sound, that there was really not much sound at all.  There are days when the sun shines brightly and this place can be cheery and filled with life, but today was not one of those days.  On these particularly gray days, everything seems to come to a standstill.  Animals hide or sleep.  The fish aren't jumping.  Even the waterbirds are missing.  Everything is silent, waiting.  On a day like this, if you were to silently slip out in a drifting boat, you had better be prepared for the silence.  It's a strange kind of silence, unnerving really.  There is no hiding here for you, no gadgets to command your attention, no television to lull you, nothing but you.

And just as you become accustomed to the lack of sound in your environment, your mind comes alive with all manner of sounds.  Every thought you have will be magnified.  Every forgotten dream will slip out of its prison and ask you tearfully why you abandoned it.  Every wrong action you have ever done will replay in your mind on a day like this.  Every broken heart you have suffered, every humiliation, will silently envelop your mind.  Every fear you have will throw off its chains and march front and center.  This cacophony of sounds will whirl around in your brain, and it's no wonder that some sailors have gone mad at sea.  On a day like this when the sun doesn't shine and seems lost forever, when the mists swirl in and out, you had better be prepared to meet yourself.  It is not for the faint of heart.  You have been warned.

May 13, 2014 - Transformers

I found this old tree stump covered in quartz crystals, and they were not placed there by me.  Maine is a rock and mineral rich state, and crystals and gems are easy to come by.  However, they are not usually found on old tree stumps in the middle of the woods.  If you look closely, you can see that the bark has pulled away from the inner wood, marking this stump as being fairly old.  Upon closer inspection, you will see that new shoots are now growing up out of this dead stump.  I might have expected that for the first several years after the cutting but not at this stage.  I have deduced that new growth in this old "dead" tree is a direct result of the quartz crystals.

Quartz is extremely abundant on the Earth.  Its structure--silicon dioxide--has piezoelectric potential.  So when heat, pressure, or impact is applied, the electrons begin to jump from their orbit and release a mild electrical charge, which can be harnessed.  It is an oscillating vibration that is constant and accurate and is used for radios, computer chips, and watches.  Because of our understanding of quartz, we have been able to create lasers, ultrasound, television, etc., all fascinating but lifeless technology.

But I wonder . . . as the sun shines its blessed heat upon the quartz on the stump, what magic might be taking place?  It is the woodland fairies who the know the secrets of the crystals, and it is their job to tend to the prana--the life force--in this forest.  Every day they teach me something new.

May 12, 2014 - The Path of Light and the Trickster

Once upon a time, a beautiful young girl lived on the shore of an island that was continually battered with storms and harsh, cold weather.  Her life was hard but it was good, and she worked many hours daily in her fields and with her animals.  The harsh weather often destroyed some of her work, but she always managed to have enough to eat and care for herself.  Still, she never appreciated what she had, and at the end of every day, she would go to the water's edge and look longingly at the island across the waves.  "Tomorrow," she would say to herself, "Tomorrow I will find a way to get there, and then I will have all the riches that island has to offer."  She felt certain life would be simpler on that island and that tomorrow would always be better than today, which she never appreciated.

One evening just before sunset, she heard a man's voice from across the waves inviting her to join him.  She was afraid because she could see no one, but she kept hearing the voice.  At last she responded, saying that she had no way to travel.  "I will lay down a path for you right over the water."  And sure enough, as soon as she had heard it, a brilliant path appeared.  "But you must hurry and stay on the path," the voice said.  She delayed, asking what sort of supper she would have upon her arrival.  And she asked for a fine horse and carriage to meet her at the shore.  And she asked for an eider down quilt, and a beautiful dress, and fine wine.  None of her requests were answered, and she began to worry that maybe the man had gone to a feast ahead of her.

She delayed and she tarried and she worried, all along thinking of more and more riches.  Finally, she threw all caution to the wind and decided to embrace her good fortune.  She set off on the path, gingerly at first, but she found it to be solid and sure.  Then she laughed and skipped along the path, greedily rubbing her hands together, congratulating herself on being so clever.  But just as she reached the middle of the path, the sun dipped below the horizon, and with it the path disappeared.  She suddenly found herself in the middle of a strong current that quickly whisked her out to sea.  She called over and over to the man to come and help her and set out another path.  "Tomorrow," was the final word she heard from him.  And that was the end of the foolish girl from the island who, it seems, had run out of today.

May 11, 2014 - Dolmens Again

I have now found a human-sized dolmen.  I highly doubt this structure fell into place as the glaciers moved through this land during the last ice age.  No, this was purposely constructed.  But by whom?  And why?  I could easily enter it and stand upright in it, and it could fit a good four or five people at once.  There were no signs of anything else around.  No people, no houses, no town, no road.  And yet someone built this.  I feel like an archeologist who is investigating her own time period.  I found no hint of fire, and there were no bones visible anywhere.  But the fairy construction I showed yesterday was not far off from here.  I know somehow they're in on this, but I just can't make the connection.  Was this put here to taunt me because I found one of the fairy dolmens the other day?  Curiouser and curiouser.

May 10, 2014 - Fairy Construction

I heard a bit of a ruckus in the woods--some pounding, rustling, and a bit of flute music--and thought I might investigate.  I crept up ever so quietly, but just as I was about to peak my head out from around a large boulder, my foot stumbled on a small rock.  Instantly, as if by magic, the woods went quiet.  I stepped out quickly and not a fairy was to be found, but . . . I did find this bit of construction.  It seems they had enough time to personally vanish but not enough time to hide their work.  What a find!  It's ingenious, really.  Thin saplings are bent in half in a loop shape.  Each end is buried into the ground, probably by at least a foot, I would imagine.  This sets out the "ribs" of the building.  Then thinner branches are woven in and out of the ribs.  Obviously, I caught them in mid-construction of the shell.  I'm certain they would have finished it off with quite a bit of leaves, greenery, fallen pine boughs, moss, and possibly even a rock-like veneer in places.  It makes me wonder just how many of these finished dwellings I have passed by and never even saw.  I am getting closer.  They cannot hide from me forever.  Run fairies, but you cannot hide.

May 9, 2014 - Unspoiled

Come away with me.  Come away to the unspoiled areas of Maine, still abundant and beautiful.  Come and see the coastline, the islands, the mist and fog heavily embracing everything.  Come inland to the woods and smell the air perfumed with pine.  Come and taste the water from streams and brooks, still in their natural state, crystal clear and delicious.  Come for the wildlife, for the deer, the black bear, and the moose.  See the astounding array of water birds, the lakes and rivers brimming with fish.  Come away with me to Maine.  Come away!  We can start over.

May 8, 2014 - At The End

At the end of the land on the peninsula where I live, stands this lonely tree.  Someone put a flag pole up next to it, presumably to hang a flag but never did.  There's nothing out here.  No wires.  No electricity.  No machines.  No cars.  You have to come on foot to get here.  The wind is relentless and has shaped the tree almost like one you would find in a Japanese garden, but perhaps not quite as graceful.  The rain pounds mercilessly too, and I can't understand how that tree is still standing.  But there it is, growing where nothing else but a bit of brush and weeds will grow.  I come and look at it often; I don't know why.  I imagine that if it could talk, it would say, "How am I possible?"  Rather smugly, I might add.

May 7, 2014 - Dolmens

Of course, this changes everything.  I have found an intact fairy dolmen.  I didn't even know these things existed.  Most dolmens made by mankind date from the Neolithic period (4,000 - 3,000 BC).  They are comprised of two or more upright stones that have a horizontal capstone.  It is believed that they were covered completely with smaller stones or earth, which has somehow worn away to the "skeleton" of stone groupings we now see that are typical of the Neolithic period.

Many scholars believe that these dolmens were tombs, and I think this is where they've gotten it completely wrong.  Dolmens are not tombs; they are portals to other places/times.  You enter across the threshold at the proper time and, if you are properly prepared, you are transported.  Why should it be any different for the fairies?  Why shouldn't they have their own dolmens?  As you can see, just the front of this dolmen has worn away; the rest is still covered.  This leads me to believe that it is still an active site in use.  I'll have to keep a watch on this one when I can, although it's more than a hop, skip, and a jump from my house.  I have a feeling there might be a great deal of coming and going at this particular portal.  If I can figure out how they do it, I might be able to use a man-made dolmen.  It's worth a try.  Tombs, hah.

May 6, 2014 - Circles

This rock called to me today.  When I went to look, I saw that different lichen had formed, lived, and died, leaving behind a circular pattern.  Nature loves circles, doesn't she?  I think all of creation--everything--loves circles.  Incense smoke curls around and around in circular clouds.  On a calm day, fire will always spread out in a circular pattern.  Water circles around and around as it rushes down a drain.  And the Earth herself is a great circle who loves to repeat her favorite pattern over and over.  Birds build circular nests, and animals turn in circles before settling down for sleep.  Seashells and snails, mushroom fairy rings, rainbows, eggs, and everything.  They all love that round arch, that graceful sway of momentum, up and down and around and around. And far away up in space, another rock circles and circles around the Earth, dancing in an eternal embrace.  The whole of our existence is spinning and spinning, as if to say over and over, "I am!"

May 5, 2014 - Ents

I get so busy trying to catch the fairies, dragons, and sea monsters around here that I sometimes forget altogether about the Ents.  This area of Maine is just loaded with them, but there's only so much one castaway can do.  Still, Ents do deserve mention here since this is a written record of the enchantment of Maine.  Long ago, there were Ents everywhere in every land.  The word "ent" is an ancient Anglo-Saxon word that means "giant," which is rather fitting for these large semi-mobile trees known as Ents.  J.R.R. Tolkien popularized them in the 1930s, and up until he wrote about them, not many people knew they existed.  Which is exactly how the Ents like it.  While it is true that their numbers have diminished, there are still Ents alive in the world, and Maine is one of their last strongholds.  No surprise there since Maine is the most densely forested state in the nation.  Ents are never happier when you think they don't exist because then they can follow through with any number of pranks, and oh, are they famous for their pranks!

This particular Ent is rather grumpy because I refuse to not believe in him.  Every time I pass by, I say hello, which only serves to anger him further.  He usually just sticks his tongue out, but sometimes he'll throw an acorn or a pine cone at me.  I haven't heard his voice yet, but it has only been five years since I spotted him.  Ents rarely talk to you before 25 years, so I guess I've got a couple of decades to go.  I don't mind and neither does he.  Besides, he makes such a ruckus coming and going when he thinks I'm not around.  Bang, bang!  Pound, pound!  It's enough to wake the dead.

May 4, 2014 - Clouds

I always thought when I was little, wouldn't it be wonderful if we could bounce up and down on the clouds?  I would bounce from cloud to cloud, my feet never touching the ground.  Then when I grew tired, I would fall backward and a puffy, soft cloud would catch me.  I trusted completely that the cloud would catch me, and then I could rest in feathery bliss until it was time to jump from cloud to cloud again.  And wouldn't it be great, I wondered, if we could take a nibble of a cloud here and there?  I imagined that they would be soft and sugary-sweet like cotton candy.  Many days as a child I lay in the green grass looking up at the clouds, talking about their shapes, wondering about their taste, and fantasizing about the softest and largest trampolines ever.  I suppose there are worse ways to spend a day.

May 3, 2014 - Island Kingdom

This tiny little island in the middle of the Androscoggin River is its own kingdom.  It has one tree (although a tiny new one appears to be growing on the other side), a bit of brush, and the rest rocks.  Not very much to look at, I'll admit, but I've always been so enchanted with it.  I imagine a whole kingdom of the Wee Folk must live there.  And why not?  No one would ever suspect.  It's protected on all sides by the rapid river and its sea monsters, and from the air, it's not even noticeable.  It's surrounded by underwater rocks and boulders (you can see one sticking out of the water to the right), so it's treacherous to take any kind of craft out there.  It's perfect for one of the last strongholds of the Good Folk.  If you were ever to step foot upon this island (and no one ever has), I can assure you that you would return a completely different person, assuming you returned at all.  Tiny, little brave island out in the cold river, eking out its existence not because of us but in spite of us.

May 2, 2014 - They Are Coming

Look at the brush along the shore here.  Something cut a really wide swath as it went through, heading straight for the "pond" (some dammed Atlantic water on the western side of the peninsula).  There's only one thing I know that would be this large and would make such easy work of the brush, and that's a dragon.  Oh, some folks might laugh at that, but then they haven't seen what I've seen.  What concerns me, though, is why a dragon is here on the shore in the first place.  Land dragons don't care for the water at all, and water dragons don't come up on the land.  I wasn't surprised when I found two dragons in the pitch pine forest (see earlier notes), but finding evidence of them here is another matter.  I have a strange feeling about this; I don't like it all.  It's times like these when I wish I could make contact with the fairies because I'm sure they'd know what's going on and whether or not I should evacuate the area.  I know I've said it before, but I must find a way to contact them.

May 1, 2014 - May Day

May Day is cold and dreary and wet today, although the sun is threatening to shine in the early evening.  It's a good thing that I have seen other May Days, so I know what this day means.  A long time ago in a warmer climate, I remember flowers on trees, green grass everywhere, and leaves full and green and lush.  Everything was bursting with fertility then.  And that will happen here, too, even though today makes it look like only a faraway dream.  I have faith in the good Earth, and she will not let me down.  Yet it is not just the fertility of the Earth and the animals that I am thinking about.  It is also the fertile grounds of the mind and especially the heart.  My mind can always pull out secret blossoms that I stash away for somber and hungry times, but my heart has been gray for too long.  Today I looked into the mist, and even though the island across from me is shrouded in fog and cold and is barely visible, somehow I smelled the blossoms from long ago.  And I knew that life was returning to me.