April 13, 2016 - The Fay

I don’t know what the woods are like in other areas, but here in Maine, it’s hard to miss that there’s something going on.  Everywhere I look I see these little--and sometimes not so little--pockets or holes or caverns.  They’re everywhere.  Some might say they’re animal dens or caused by tree roots or other natural occurrences.  That might be the case for some of the pockets and caverns but certainly not all of them.

When I come upon a large one like this, I get up as close as I can and look inside for signs.  I put my face quite close.  It never occurred to me that it might be dangerous to do so, until I just wrote that “I put my face quite close.”  The thing is, I’ve just got to know what’s in there.

A very large portal.

The first thing I look for is signs of animals.  Those are normal signs.  I look for paw prints or droppings near the outside.  I look for discarded food dregs.  I look for scratchings and neat piles of unwanted earth or other matter.  I use my sense of smell to try to detect an animal.  If I find those things, and sometimes I do, I can chuck the cavern up to an animal’s den.

But more often than not, I don’t find signs of animals.  Then I look for signs of stress.  Has a tree fallen down nearby?  Are its roots pulling at the earth within its range?  Has a mini flood occurred in the area?  If I find those things, and sometimes I do, I can chuck the cavern up to trees and other natural occurrences.

But more often than not, I don’t find signs of trees and natural occurrences.  The fact is that these pockets, caverns, dens, homes, underground dwellings, portals--whatever you want to call them--seem to be everywhere.  The more I look for them, the more I find them.  You can call me crazy if you want to, but I know there’s more out there than just plants, animals, and insects.  I can feel them.  I know they’re there.

Sometimes I bring a little gift, something shiny and pretty.  Sometimes I bring a beautiful marble.  Sometimes I bring a little charm used for jewelry making.  Sometimes I bring an old coin.  Sometimes I’ll whittle something and bring that with me.  Other times I’ll bring bundles of herbs or a saucer of milk or a little biscuit or some incense.  I leave these things right at the opening, ever so slightly inside the dwelling.

The next time I visit the spot (I try to do so the very next day), my gifts are gone.  They are nowhere to be found, unless it’s just an empty saucer.  They’re not moved aside or flung elsewhere.  They’re gone.  I look.  I check.  I know.  They’ve been taken.  They’ve been accepted.  Where they go from there, I haven’t a clue, but I can make a good guess.

And do you know?  Every so often, I find something left for me, either in the same spot or near my own doorstep.  Usually it’s a tiny bundle of dried herbs or flowers wrapped in a bit of soft and thin leather.  It’s easy to miss.  I have to really be looking for it.  That seems to be a requirement, but that’s easy enough to fulfill because I am looking for it.  What I am to do with the bundles, I don’t always know, but I can make a good guess.

They’re out there, the fay.  You have to look for them.  You have to be patient.  You have to earn their trust.  You have to give first.  But they’re out there.  Try it and see, but don’t blame me if you get more than you bargained for.

March 5, 2016 - Fly Away

Like little fairy wings, really.  These delicate tree ears grow out of an old tree stump.  Some tree ears are hard and gnarly and imposing, but not these.  These are delicate ears, like wispy little wings, like thin little flower petals.  Around and around the stump they go in their own perfect pattern.  Sometimes it seems logical; other times it’s just a joyful abandoning of all pretense as the little petals dash around the stump and chase one another.

The tiny wings of magic.

But there’s a reason for it all.  It was an invitation, you see.  Long ago, this tree sat proudly in the forest, majestic in height and impressive in girth.  He had every reason to be proud, and he was proud, but he also carried a secret longing.  The birds of the forest would nest in his branches, and all day long he would listen to their beautiful songs.  They would come and go, flying back and forth.  They would leave for the winter and come back with exotic tales to tell in the spring.

And the tree would listen to them all.  He would listen and he would long for the adventures of the birds.  When they flew off into a brisk current, he would watch with starry eyes.  When they glided back and forth on unseen waves, graceful and peaceful, he would feel those same waves in his leaves and imagine that he, too, was a bird gently gliding.  The older he got, the more he thought and wished and pined to fly off into the sunrise as his little bird friends did.

Now as I have told you all, there is still magic left in the forests of Maine, and a magic forest has its own set of rules that are quite different from a forest controlled by man.  The wishes, the hopes, the intentions, the desires of this magnificent tree were so powerful and so full of longing that a great willing was heard throughout the forest.  This kind of willing cannot be ignored if it contains all of the proper elements:  Longing, desire, love, hope, and purity. 

Pureness of heart is especially important, for no dark thought of jealousy or envy must be held in the heart of the one who wills.  Jealousy and envy turn desire into anger and resentment.  But there was no jealousy or envy in the heart of the great tree, only love for his little birds.  Love and longing and hope.

And with love and longing and hope, anything can be accomplished.  So, unbeknownst to him, his desire--his great intention--was heard in the magic of the forest.  Once a desire like this is heard, it cannot be ignored, and the fairies set to work to help the great tree reach his goal. 

This is where we came in above.  The transformation is nearly complete.  The great tree is in the final stages of “un-becoming,” and as he “un-becomes,” he sprouts his tiny little, petal-shaped wings.  These wings--these delicate little catchers of the winds of hope--will know how to catch magic’s current in the air.  Then when the “un-becoming” is complete, the tree will be too.

And then he will simply fly away.

October 26, 2015 - Jack-o'-Lantern Trim Your Light

When I was young, in late October we sang this song over and over until All Saints’ Day came on November 1.  I have never been able to find it anywhere on the internet until tonight when I put it in Google.  I found just one site that was not there last year, and there was no explanation as to the words, so I am sticking with mine being of older internet origin.  Again I ask if anyone knows the origin of this song.  If so, please do let me know because it’s a magic song.

Jack-o’-Lantern, trim your light!

Fairies come and dance tonight!

Tripping, skipping on the green!

Merry be our Hallowe’en!

How we loved this song!  We sang it over and over, up an octave and down an octave and then up an octave again.  Each time we sang the verse, our excitement mounted, and it was especially fun to sing it at night when many coincidental things would happen.

Caught red-handed on their way to see him!

That is precisely what I was doing just after twilight when I found these fellows all rushing off to a party, their finest hats upon their heads.  I stopped them in their tracks to ask them where the party was, but they refused to tell me.  I had the advantage, you see.  I had a very bright flashlight, and they do not like such bright lights at all, especially at night.  So I persisted in asking them and in shining the light directly on them.

That might not have been such a good idea.  No, not at all.  Because I could have sworn I heard the Jack-o’-lantern song somewhere off in the woods, getting a bit louder and louder still as the singers came closer and closer.  I kept my light very bright and rushed off, begging their pardon.  I forgot how well the song worked.  Merry be our Hallowe’en, indeed!

September 26, 2015 - The Walk to October

THE WALK TO OCTOBER

 

Hidden burrows and secret hills

Covered with moss and dead things

opening now sooner and sooner

To release their cloaked inhabitants.

The night no longer required for stealth

the Good Folk roam freely

At first in the twilight

But later at any time with boldness.

For the tide has changed now

And the beings of light return to their source

Leaving the canvas of Earth

To be reclaimed by the hidden ones.

 

The tiny dens of the Good Folk.

 

April 13, 2015 - Head Of Tide Daydreams

This area is known as the Head of Tide.  It’s a 15-foot waterfall that separates the tidal portion from the fresh water portion of the Cathance River.  The Cathance eventually flows to the Merrymeeting Bay, which is fed by five other rivers as well.  The combination of fresh and salt water flowing in and out of the bay makes it “brackish” and home to many rare plant species.

The Head of Tide is always great at this time of year.  The water is flowing so tremendously fast that I just get lost in watching it, and listening to it is mesmerizing.  Time seems to pass very quickly, and unusually so.  But that’s water for you, and you know how I feel about water if you’ve been reading any of these journal entries.  Somehow the faeries use it to their advantage and play tricks with our daydreams . . .

The 15-foot waterfall at the Head of Tide.

When the green fills in, this place is magical, and once you come here, it’s hard to leave.  It makes you want to sneak out along the banks and build a secret encampment.  Yes, an encampment, perhaps somewhat underground with a small top portion that has sod over it and looks like part of the woods around it so no one can detect it.  Yeah, that’s it, and we’ll grow food in a nearby field and stash it along with water in a sub-basement of our encampment.  We’ll heat the ground floor with wood.  There’s plenty of wood for the taking in the surrounding area . . .

Let’s see . . . we’ll need candles.  Or maybe we could put something solar in, as long as it’s disguised and no one can find it.  We’ll have to dig a well, but that shouldn’t be too difficult as there’s plenty of water around here.  We can use the fresh water portion of the Cathance until it freezes anyhow, and ice can be melted, and . . . we’ll hunt and we’ll fish . . . and we’ll need some clothes so we’ll have to raise some sheep for the wool, and . . .

And that’s what happens when you go to the Head of Tide and you start daydreaming.  The faeries have their way with you every time . . .

April 8, 2015 - Fairy Clothes

It’s in the fog when you can see them the most.  That’s when they’re most comfortable in our world because they think they can’t be seen.  They’re used to dwelling within their own self-created mists.  In fact, that’s how they travel from one world to the next--through the mists.  So when a great fog descends upon the shore, they are in their natural habitat.

I chanced upon some fairy clothes hanging out on a fairy line.  I knew at once it belonged to them because the line was not hung straight.  Fairies usually avoid straight lines whenever possible as that is a manmade idea, and no self-respecting fairy would want to be associated with anything as base as a manmade idea.  They have no problem “borrowing” some of our rope, however.

Look out of your windows in the first light of the morning or the last night of the evening.  Better yet, go for a very quiet stroll.  You will be surprised what you see at those times.  There is a lot of activity now.  This is all part of the spring quickening.  More and more of them have come out of their dens now, and the busy season is upon them.  There is much to do before May Day!  Look to the mists.

Fairy clothes upon a line.

March 24, 2015 - First Faerie Den Opens

Now that Persephone has opened the door to the Underworld and returned to the land of the living, the first faerie den of the season has finally opened.  I found an area without much snow, and that seemed odd to me and prompted me to look closer.  They’ve unsealed the cavern, as you can see, and cleared a good bit of the snow away.

This is an advanced patrol that will make inspections, only.  Dens in the area will be marked, and the snow depth will be calculated.  Those who are to help with the melting of the snow and the falling rain will be cleared for emergence first.  Now that I have passed a year’s worth of recording the activities in the woods around here, I am fairly confident of how things work with the Good Folk, having been through this many times before and now having a written record.  As you can imagine, there’s a great deal of work to be done.

The first faerie den of spring has opened.

First and foremost will be the melting of the snow and clearing of the forests of any animals that have succumbed to the dark part of the year and the Unseelie Court.  The Microbial Kingdom will be employed for this task.  Severe rain should follow afterward so that the fields can be washed and made fresh again.  Fallen debris will be cleared away with the water.  Then the Prana will be activated and used on the seeds and bulbs hidden in the cold and wet ground, waiting.  The green is being mixed even now as I write, yellow of sun and blue of water.

Yes, there is a great deal to be done before Mayday arrives, and not much time in which to do it!

January 9, 2015 - Snow Island

It looks like a small tree with a patch of dead grass in a snow-covered field, doesn’t it?  But it’s not.  This is a small island on zoom lens in the middle of the frozen Androscoggin River.  This is one of my favorite little islands.  It’s perfect for having a picnic, assuming you could make it out there with all the underwater rocks jutting this way and that, only too happy to ruin a canoe.  I wrote about this Island Kingdom back in May.  Do you remember?

But now it’s frozen and with snow on the ice, it’s hard to tell how thick the ice is.  We have had some severe cold weather, though, and I think it might be thick enough to take a walk out there.  I am tempted.  Perhaps I will bring a lunch and dine out there as I’ve always wanted to do.

Back in the merry month of May, I wondered if this little island might be one of the last strongholds for the Good Folk.  It’s so easy to feel their presence in May; not so easy in January.  However, they don’t just disappear.  It’s important to remember that if we can walk out there because of the ice, they can come over here.  Have you seen any tiny footprints in the snow near your house?  Are you sure they’re rabbits?  Because I think they might not be. 

I know I’ve seen their footprints around my house.  Remember what I told you about the snow:  There are no lies in the snow.  It reveals all.  Winter is the time for stark, cold truth.

The island kingdom in the frozen river.

January 7, 2015 - Ice Pond

Here is the white lily pond, but it doesn’t look anything like it did in the summer, does it?  Beyond it is an icy frozen field.  It’s hard to tell where the ice of the pond ends and the ice of the field begins.  If you didn’t live here, you might not even know there was a pond there.  No one skates on it, but it’s nice and smooth and perfect for skating, if you could bear the cold, that is, and if the creatures below the ice didn’t mind.

And what happens to the water fairies in the winter?  Do they freeze?  I don’t think so, but surely life must slow down for them.  They must have a way to pass through the ice, some sort of manipulation of the hydrogen bonds, I would imagine.  As I’ve said before, the water creatures are decidedly different from those of land.  It is probably due to the many transformations that water makes, as discussed briefly in the Philosopher's Stone.  If water truly is one of the great keys to the universe, as I believe, it is no wonder that its denizens are so unlike the creatures that grow from the Earth.

In any event, the scene is almost surreal.  The wind was too severe to stay very long, and the haunted apple trees in the adjacent field looked very hungry.  I went home to my fire.

The frozen white lily pond.

December 19, 2014 - Night of the Ornaments

Long ago in a cold land where the winters were very harsh, there lived a young boy with his parents.  They had a very small and humble home on a small plot of land near a very large forest.  Most of the people they knew lived the same way they did:  In a very small and humble home on a small plot of land near a very large forest.  The houses were sparsely located with a great deal of space in between them, and the village was very small and quaint and almost forgotten.

For as long as anyone could remember, life had always been lived the same way.  The villagers were all farmers and grew a great deal of their own food, and what they did not grow they hunted.  Their part of the world was too cold to grow very much grain, and so that was the main thing they relied upon from the outside world--grain, along with spices and sugar.  Twice a year, once in the summer and once in the winter, a large caravan would come to their tiny village, and the villagers would buy or trade for all the supplies they needed until the next caravan came.

It was a very cold part of the world, but this particular winter seemed especially cold and snowy.  All the villagers had gotten their wood cut and stacked early because they could tell that it was going to be a long winter.  None of them had a very good crop that summer because it had been so cool, and the boy and his family had fared quite badly with their harvest.  They did what they could to gather mushrooms and nuts from the forest, and the father hunted almost daily.  Usually, there was plenty of game, but this year was hard on the animals as well, and there wasn’t nearly as much as usual.

The day finally came when the caravan arrived for its one-day winter stop in their village.  The mother took every penny she had and gave it to the boy, telling him to buy two sacks of wheat, which might just barely get them through the winter.  The boy’s father lay sick in bed and the mother tended him daily, so neither could accompany the boy on his first trip alone to the caravan.  He dressed warmly in two old wool coats, kissed his mother goodbye, and headed off with an old sled to get the two sacks of wheat.

After trudging several miles through the snow, pulling his sled behind him, the boy came to the caravan.  What a sight to see!  Colorful wagons!  Beautiful horses!  Food and beverages and trinkets of all kinds!  But the best thing, the best thing by far, were the fine smells that came from the caravan from all sorts of delicious foods, some familiar and some oddly exotic.  The boy could smell the caravan long before he could see it, and he was already very hungry, having had a very small breakfast of porridge that morning.

He remembered his father’s stern and feverish warning:  “Talk to no one!  Do not delay.  Do not idle.  Go straight to the grain man and purchase the wheat.  Do as I say, and come home straight away!”  He had assured his father that he would do exactly as he was told.

But there were the delicious smells, and he didn’t think it could hurt to just sniff each one as he passed by the wagons.  So he did just that, sniffing appreciatively everywhere he went.  The merchants smiled and waved and called him closer, but he just smiled and waved and walked on.  At last he could see the old grain wagon at the end of the caravan, and slowly he made his way toward it, savoring every smell he could while his stomach growled terribly at him.

Just before he got to the grain wagon, he saw a small wagon with beautifully-colored and shining ornaments hanging all around it.  He had never seen anything so pretty before, and he so longed to have some of those ornaments because his family had no Christmas decorations at all at home.  Being only a boy, he did not realize just how poor his family was, but one thing he knew for certain:  He had never seen such finery before!

 

He was about to continue on when a young girl came out of the wagon and called to him.  She had such a dazzling smile, and the boy thought there could be no harm just in greeting her.  So off to her wagon he went, towing his sled behind him.  The girl was even prettier up close, and she began to chat gaily, showing him this ornament and that, asking him to buy some.  At last, he told her he could not buy any ornaments, and this seemed to make her so sad.  She explained that she had made them all herself and that if she didn’t sell some, her father would beat her.

He remembered his father’s words.  He knew he shouldn’t do it.  He knew he should go to the grain wagon, but he just couldn’t help himself.  Not only did he long for these exquisite decorations, but he wanted to help the girl as well.  She looked at him with pleading, beautiful eyes, and the boy tossed all caution to the wind.  He bought nine of the ornaments, which the girl happily wrapped for him, chatting and singing all the while.  Then she waved goodbye to him and went into the wagon.  He stood staring at the place where she had stood for a long time.

Then he remembered to get the grain.  Off to the grain wagon he went, but the grain man told him that he only had enough money for one sack of wheat.  No matter how much the boy tried to bargain, the grain man wouldn’t budge.  He did finally and grudgingly give the boy a small bag of nuts along with the sack of wheat because he felt sorry him, as shabbily dressed as he was.

The boy headed back home with a heavy heart, towing the grain and ornaments behind him.  He knew his father would be furious and his mother would cry, wondering how they would get through the winter with just one sack of wheat.  He tried to think of all the wonderful things he could tell them about the ornaments, of how beautiful they would make their home, but in the end, he knew they wouldn’t care.  They didn’t love beautiful things like he did.  Silently he trudged, munching on some of the nuts as he went.

At last he arrived home, just as it was starting to get dark.  His mother breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him and brought him in quickly to stand by the fire because he was half frozen.  Then she went out to get the sacks of grain and bring them in.  The boy waited, full of fear.  She came back in, her face pale and angry, dragging behind her one sack of wheat and carrying a bag full of ornaments.  She yelled angrily at him, and it was loud enough to wake his father, who came into the room to see what was happening.  The rage in his eyes when he realized what had happened was unmistakable.  He grabbed the boy furiously, shook him and screamed at him, and then beat him.

The boy was full of fear and self-hatred.  He grabbed the bag of ornaments and ran out into the darkening night.  On and on he ran, not caring in which direction he went, until he could not hear his parents yelling for him anymore.  At last he stopped and went to a small stand of trees where the snow seemed a little less deep.  He sat down there under a tree, crying bitterly in agony and despair.  He could hear his parents’ words over and over in his head:  Stupid!  Selfish!  Foolish!  He cried and cried until he had no tears left and had cried out all of his tension.  Then he very calmly made the decision that he would stay there under the tree and allow himself to die that night in the forest.

There he sat, quiet and freezing but with his mind made up.  He munched a few of his nuts, and when he did, a couple of squirrels ventured closer, eying the nuts.  They looked hungry and puny and the boy pitied them, so he threw them some of the nuts.  They ate them quickly, and then more squirrels came and other tiny creatures, which made the boy smile a bit.  What did it matter now? he thought.  So he tossed all of his nuts to the forest creatures, who devoured them and ran away.  He watched them scampering off in the moonlight.

Since he was going to die, he decided he would decorate a small tree with the nine ornaments he had bought.  It would be his first Christmas tree.  He and his family always celebrated the holiday, but they never had any decorations.  So he decided he would have his first and last Christmas tree.  He picked out a tiny tree and placed his ornaments on it.  He could see them gleaming in the moonlight.  They were so beautiful.  He didn’t think he had any tears left, but he surprised himself with a few more as he stared at his Christmas tree.  Then he sat down again and waited for the night to continue its task, as he watched his shiny ornaments swaying in a slight breeze, twinkling here and there amid the snow that had begun falling heavily.

Now, the Good Folk of the woods had seen all that had happened, and while they don’t usually intervene in human affairs, they decided they would give the boy a gift for having been so generous in giving his nuts to the forest creatures.  So they magicked the ornaments as only faeries can do, and when they were completely magicked, how they shone and glimmered like beacons in the night!  They were so fabulously beautiful that the boy just sat and stared, wondering if he had already died and was approaching heaven.  He blinked and blinked at the brilliant display of lights before him, and he cried with joy and sorrow all at the same time.  He stared at the lit ornaments for a very long time, and then began to nod off to sleep.

He hadn’t nodded long when he heard a terrible crashing sound in the woods.  He stood up quickly and who should come up to him but the grain man himself!  “Thank goodness I found your lights!” the man shouted.  “My wagon separated from the rest of the caravan by accident and I couldn’t find them in this blasted snow!”  Only then did the man give a second suspicious look at the ornaments, never having seen ornaments shine so brilliantly.  High in the trees, the faeries laughed good-naturedly at him.

“We must get to shelter,” the man said.  “Where is your home?”  The boy pointed in the direction where he thought his home was, although he really wasn’t quite sure because he had left in such anguish and now it was dark out.  He hoped it was the right direction because if it wasn’t, the grain man could easily die out here in the cold night as well, and the boy didn’t want that to happen.

Well, you can bet that the boy’s parents felt pretty terrible about what had happened.  They were not bad people but they were very frightened people, and sometimes frightened people do terrible things out of fear, things they would never ordinarily do.  They loved their son very much and they had run out into the night, searching for him.  Imagine their surprise when they came upon the brilliant scene of their son, the grain man, and the ornaments!  They were so overwhelmed with joy and relief at finding their son that they fell to their knees at his feet and wept.  The three of them cried together for a while, so happy they were to be reunited.

It was the grain man who urged them on and nudged them back to reality.  “We have to get to shelter!” he said.  “This storm looks like it’s going to be pretty bad!”  And so the four of them got into the wagon and the two horses sped silently into the night.  It did not take long to reach their tiny home, as the horses were strong and able.  The grain man put the horses in a shed for the night, giving them some grain to eat and then went back to the house.

There the four of them sat and had a very meager Christmas Eve dinner, but it was dinner nevertheless and it was warm inside the house.  The mother had built the fire much larger than she normally would have to keep their guest comfortable and warm.  Even though the meal was meager, it was larger than what she would have made but she did so for her guest.  Hospitality was very important in those days because you never knew when you would need it from a stranger yourself, and you never ever asked for payment back.  The grain man looked around at this exceedingly poor family, and he realized that they were giving him a huge gift of food even if it didn’t seem that way.

The next day when everyone awoke, the storm had stopped and the sun was shining brilliantly.  The grain man packed up and got ready to go, bowing and thanking his hosts for their hospitality, who returned the gesture with bows and smiles of their own.  He went outside to get his horses ready and found the boy in the shed with them.  The boy smiled and thanked him for his help, and the grain man smiled and thanked him as well.  He gave the boy a small bag of nuts, and the boy was thrilled with this delicious gift.  It seemed he would have some nuts to eat after all!

The boy helped the grain man get the horses and wagon ready.  Then he ran alongside the wagon as the horses began to pull it, smiling and waving at the grain man, who smiled and waved back.  The horses picked up the pace, though, and soon outran the boy, who stopped running and waved and watched the wagon leave, shouting goodbye and Merry Christmas.

Just as the wagon was about to round a bend, it looked as though some things had fallen from it.  The boy ran and ran to get to the spot where he had thought he had seen the fallen items so he could hail the grain man, but when he got there the wagon was nowhere in sight and long since gone.  However, there was a large lump on the ground.  Upon further inspection of this lump, he realized there were four bags:  Three large bags and one small bag.  He was dying to know what was in those bags, but he resisted the temptation to open them.  Instead, he ran back to his house as fast as he could and grabbed his sled.  Then off he sped once again to the bags in the field.

The three bags were very heavy, indeed.  It was very difficult for him to load them on his sled, but eventually he did.  The fourth bag was light, and he tossed it over his shoulder onto the sled.  Then he trudged very carefully and very slowly back home, weighed down heavily with his load.  When he got back, his parents were outside, having seen him from the window with the sled laden with bags.  They asked him what was going on and he told them he had no idea.  He explained how these bags had fallen off the grain man’s wagon, but by the time he got to them to let the grain man know, the wagon was nowhere in sight.

His mother opened the three large bags, and each was full right to the brim with wheat!  She cried out in joy and relief when she saw them, quickly dragging them inside the house.  The boy and his father could hear her singing inside and laughed at her antics.  Then the father went to the small bag and opened it up.  Inside were nine exquisitely beautiful ornaments.  The grain man must have taken them off the tree last night when the boy and his parents were crying at their reunion.  He smiled a very broad smile and handed the bag to the boy, who exclaimed with happiness when he saw the contents.

Together the two of them found a small tree and brought it inside.  They had to wait a couple of hours for the tree to warm up a bit so the limbs could fall open.  Then the boy took his nine ornaments out of the bag and placed them very carefully and thoughtfully on the tree.  They didn’t shine like they had the night before because the magic and worn off, but it didn’t matter because the boy thought he had never seen such a beautiful sight.  His mother brought a surprise from the kitchen.  She had ground some wheat extra fine and made some gingerbread cookies, which she had fashioned into a garland with some old ribbon.

She gave the garland to her son and told him to decorate his first Christmas tree.  He told her couldn’t do that, and she stared at him confusedly.  Then he laughed and said, “This is my second Christmas tree!”  Quickly he placed the garland around the tree, sneaking a cookie off it, which his parents pretended not to notice.  It was easily the second-best Christmas tree the boy had ever seen.  And in any event, it was the tastiest one by far.

December 11, 2014 - Snow Flowers

Now the snow flowers are cropping up everywhere.  They are created by the winter faeries who do their best to mimic the summer faeries.  They gather the snow and sculpt it into imitations of life.  They do not understand that there is a lot more to a flower than beauty, but we must forgive them because they do not know any better.  If they did, they would know of the subtle scent of the flower and the veins of sap that run invisibly through its petals.  They would know of the pulsing of life within the flower as it draws the Prana up from the Earth.  They would know about the soft glow of being and the frivolousness of color.

But they do not know.  They are creatures of snow and ice who deal with hexagonal crystals, and the rules of the mineral kingdom are their gods.  They alone are gifted with the ability to witness the transmutation of the alchemist, caught in minute detail second by second as it occurs with the frost creeping upon all surfaces.  Theirs is the world of frozen glitter and sparkling ice mirrors, of dancing vapors stunned into stillness on their way to heaven, fashioned into feathery labyrinths.

The snow flower.

December 2, 2014 - The Sprites' Horses

Now and then Old Jack will tell me a story about the people who lived around here before the Age of Machines, and I always enjoy hearing these stories because they ring truer for me than today’s two-dimensional attempt at myth-making.  We were walking through a crow-infested field (I told you about how they follow him) in mid-fall, and we saw a couple of horses running.  I didn’t think much of it until he said, “There goes Miss Sandish and Kitty.  A bit early this year if you ask me.  Better leave extra hay out.”

And it goes like this:  There was a young widow named Sandish who had a little daughter named Kitty.  They were both sweet and kind people who had fallen on some very hard times when Sandish’s husband died unexpectedly.  Sandish’s family lived very far away and she had nowhere to go when her husband died.  They had only recently traveled to these parts and didn’t know many people.  Their plan had been to start a homestead, raise a family, and start a new clan here in the North.  All of those plans came to a crashing halt when Sandish’s husband died.

Sandish and her husband kept many fine horses--some said they were the finest in the land.  They were just beginning to build a very good reputation with their horses, and through that reputation they would make the money and friends they needed to start their life in their new home.  Now that Sandish’s husband was dead, she was not sure what to do and didn’t trust her ability to do it without him.  Mind you, she was the one who had a way with horses and not him, but she didn’t have the courage to do it alone.  Add to that the sheer weight of grief over the loss of a loved one, and you can imagine how things stood idle for much longer than they should have.

Now there was a very shrewd and wealthy merchant who lived several towns away and he had heard of the beautiful horses that Sandish and her husband were selling.  He had also heard of her husband’s death and decided he would come and try to get the horses before Sandish got any ideas of raising them on her own.  He was fiercely competitive and more than a little jealous of their newfound success. 

Oh, he swept into town like a prince!  He came to see Sandish, lavished her with gifts and praise, gave constant condolences to her on her loss, and generally just slid right in like a snake.  Since she was still overwrought with sorrow over her loss, she was not paying as much attention to this charlatan as she should have.  It felt good to have someone lavish her with so much attention, so she ignored any warning signs she might have seen and became fast friends with this merchant.

One very cold and wintry day, he suggested to Sandish that she should take a small holiday.  He promised to care for her horses, and he offered to pay for her trip.  At first she said no, but the idea of getting away from her problems was so alluring that before long she found herself saying yes.  In no time at all, he had everything arranged.  One of his men would come for her and her daughter in a fine carriage and bring them to the sea.  There they would sail away for a warmer climate and then return in the spring.  Sandish and her daughter packed quickly, and within a day they were saying their goodbyes to the merchant.

They could not know what fate awaited them, and I’m sorry to say it was not a sunny and warm climate.  The carriage driver took them far away from the village and then off onto a lonely road.  The light of the day was beginning to fade when he abruptly stopped the carriage, opened the door, and forced Sandish and Kitty out.  He kept all their possessions and gave them nothing at all, and then he urged the horses on quickly so that he might return to Sandish’s home.

But that was not the worst of it.  Back at her home, the evil merchant had rounded up all of Sandish’s horses in the stables.  He brought plenty of skilled horsemen with him to help him get the horses back to his home.  Even with all their experience, though, the horsemen were having trouble because these horses were not quite trained as ordinary horses.  They responded best to Sandish, who seemed to know their language, and they were very edgy and jumpy with these new men.  Still, they were finally able to get all the horses out and ready to go.  The merchant was very pleased with this and bid them to fly like the wind through the night back to his home.

Just as they were leaving, the carriage driver returned.  He was driving his horses mercilessly because he wanted to return before complete nightfall.  As he rounded the bend, he spooked the waiting horses and two of them escaped, running quickly off into the meadow.  The merchant watched them and decided they were the most beautiful of all the horses, and he wanted to get them back.  It was not enough that he had all the other horses, which were now leaving peaceably enough with his men.  He became even greedier than usual and insisted upon having the two horses that had gotten away, now obsessing on their beauty.

In the meantime, Sandish and her daughter began to try to walk home.  They weren’t certain where they were and they were freezing.  The moon was full, so at least they could see and they trudged on.  Ah, The Fates are strange at times, though, and they sent a terrible snowstorm to Sandish and Kitty.  The two tried to shelter under some trees, but Sandish knew that they would die.  She wept bitterly at her stupidity but tried to hide it from her daughter.  She held her tight and began to croon to her almost as she did to her horses.  Imagine her surprise when two of her prized horses came trotting up to her!  There the four of them stayed under the shelter of the trees, and Sandish could see that the horses were terrified as well.

Now the sprites of the woods were all active on this night because the moon was full, and they were so very attracted to all the emotion coming from the trees.  They giggled with delight when they learned of Sandish’s predicament and offered to help.  They told Sandish that only two of them might leave alive.  In this way, they would save Sandish but on the condition that she would teach them how to speak to the horses.  Imagine their surprise when Sandish immediately said to let the horses live and not her and Kitty!  Oh, they were livid!  Now she’d gone and ruined everything!  They expected her to be selfish and self-serving as most humans were!  Now they were in a predicament for sure because the Moon Magic required them to fulfill their word or forfeit their powers.

At last they admitted they were outfoxed and they consulted The Gump, who was amused to no end.  Sandish, her daughter, and the two horses were given a strange drink, and then the two women each got up on a horse.  “Fly like the wind!” The Gump said, and the horses took off at incredible speed.  As they ran, Sandish and her daughter felt very strange, indeed, almost as if they were running themselves!  Through the night the transition took place, and by morning Sandish and her daughter had each merged with their horse.  This fulfilled the sprites’ deal:  Only two could leave alive.

As they neared their home, who should they run into but the evil merchant himself and his carriage man.  The snowstorm had hit them as well, and their carriage had overturned in the snow.  Two of their horses had gone lame, and the other two had died of cold.  The merchant was so very relieved to see the two beautiful horses trot up, looking as fresh as they might have on a fine spring morning.  He immediately called the horses to him, and to his surprise, they obediently came.  Even more surprising, each horse allowed a man to climb atop it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The merchant breathed a sigh of relief and urged the horses forward.  Before he could think another thought, however, they took off at breakneck speed for the woods!  No amount of slapping, yelling, or kicking had any effect on the horses whatsoever.  They flew as if they were bewitched, and if truth be told, they were, indeed.  On and on they went until they came to deep, snow-laden ravine.  There the horses stopped abruptly and threw their riders off into the deep snow.  The two men screamed and yelled, but the horses backed quickly away.  Then the two men begged, and the horses just snorted and ran off.

I probably don’t need to tell you that the merchant and his carriage man froze to death there.  The sprites were patient and waited by their sides until each breathed their last breath, trying to enlist the help of these odd fairies, who despise the selfishness of humans.  When they died, the sprites took all of the merchant’s gold coins, and he had a great many of them!  They melted them down and made two little gold horses from them, which they placed on a boulder that marked the entrance to their woodland homes.  They were patient sprites, if not a bit odd, and somehow they decided that eventually the gold horses made from the gold of a horse thief would teach them the language of horses.

Old Jack says that as long as the gold horses are still there and the sprites are still waiting for their secrets, Sandish and Kitty will be running through the meadows.

November 28, 2014 - Snow Secrets

A long time ago, there lived a very wicked and greedy woman who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.  When she learned of the death of a very wealthy merchant’s wife, she decided she would marry the man and live a life of luxury.  She immediately set her cap on him, and because she was blessed with abnormal beauty, it did not take her long to get her claws into the merchant’s heart, especially since he was so bereaved.  People were a bit surprised when the merchant married the evil woman only a few months after his wife’s death, but he was so grateful for the false comfort she provided as a mother to his young son that he did not notice the disapproval of those around him.

Once they were married, the evil woman went straight to work on getting as much wealth from the merchant as she could.  She had all new clothes made for herself and her own son, and every Saturday the two of them rode about town in a most opulent carriage buying useless trinkets and eating at the finest establishments in town.  She threw parties all the time, hiring the best caterers and the most expensive musicians.  She insisted monthly on a new piece of jewelry from her husband to celebrate their “monthly” anniversary.  To all of these things, and more, the merchant never said a word.

Yet it was not enough for the greedy woman.  She began to think of what she would do and how much she would have if her wealthy husband accidentally died.  After all, she reasoned, his first wife had died and maybe he would as well.  The merchant assured her that she and her son were written into his Will and that they would be handsomely gifted upon his death.  Still, this was not enough for the woman because she began to think that the merchant’s own son might get too much money and she wanted to have all of that for herself and her son.

Pines bowing with the weight of the snow.

Her greed got the better of her as it always did, and she came up with a plan to get rid of the boy.  One very cold day when the merchant was out of town, she led the boy far out into the woods, telling him she required his help in finding some wintergreen, his father’s favorite seasoning, which she intended to bake into a cake for his birthday.  She put him into a very thin coat while she herself wore a very warm fur cape.  They wandered for some time in the late afternoon and the boy complained of the cold.  The woman told him to sit under a tree and she would look for the wintergreen and then come back for him.  He did as he was told, feeling very cold and very tired.  She warned him not to leave the tree or she wouldn’t be able to find him on the way back.

Then she left him and went some distance away where she could still see him, although he did not know he was being watched.  She saw him shivering violently with the cold and then finally calm down and drift off to sleep.  Then she hurried back home in the waning light, confident in her plan.  When she got in, she ordered hot soup from the cook, which she said she would be bringing straight to the young boy’s room as he had caught a cold while out with her and she had sent him straight to bed.  No one suspected a thing, thinking she was just doing her motherly duties.  When she got to the boy’s room, she ate the soup herself and then brought the bowl down to the kitchen.  She told the staff not to disturb the poor boy’s sleep.

During the night a terrible snowstorm came up and covered the entire town as well as the woods in thick white snow.  This made the woman secretly very happy because she knew there was no way the boy could have survived the storm.  In the morning when the merchant came back from his trip, she greeted him warmly with smiles and false concern for his welfare.  Together they were enjoying a wonderful breakfast when a maid ran into the dining room shouting that the merchant’s son was missing.  There was mass confusion and everyone asked who had the seen the boy last.  The woman volunteered that she had seen him last when she brought him soup after he had caught a cold while he was out with her collecting wintergreen in the woods.  The cook said she remembered the woman had brought soup to him.

After the house and barns were searched thoroughly, everyone donned their warmest clothes and headed outside, yelling and shouting the boy’s name.  All along the woman kept wringing her hands and saying that she hoped he had not left the house early that morning to go pick more wintergreen.  She explained to all who would listen that both she and the boy wanted to surprise the merchant with a wonderfully-flavored cake for his birthday, but she certainly hoped he did not go out alone in the morning.  The merchant patted her hand and thanked her for her thoughtfulness.

Getting more and more worried as time wore on, the merchant asked his wife to show them exactly where she and the boy had been the day before, and she was only too happy to do so.  Now, of course, all of the winter woodland Good Folk had seen what happened the day before, and they knew the evil in this woman’s heart.  It was slow going for the search party because the snow was at least a foot deep, and the fairies decided they would use this to their advantage.  They followed the merchant around and every time he paused, they would shake a great pine laden with snow, which would fall directly on him, covering him with cold snow.

On and on it went.  Every time they paused for a moment, the fairies would deliver a load of snow from a heavily-laden pine tree.  “I can’t see anything with all this snow!” the merchant yelled, “How much farther??”  The woman explained that they were almost there, that it was just over a nearby hill.  They all grouped together and decided to take the snowy hill hand in hand to help each other.  The fairies immediately stopped dropping all the snow.  The people all trudged onward in an eerie silence.  The merchant remarked how smooth and perfect and untouched the landscape was now that the trees were not dropping snow on him.

When they reached the top of the hill, one of the servants noticed a tiny snow-covered lump sitting under a tree.  Everyone halted and looked at the merchant as they could easily make out some of the color from the child’s coat.  No one said a word.  No one moved.  Everyone knew what it meant.  The merchant stood there staring at his child.  He stared at the snow-laden pines above the child that almost protected him from the worst of the snow.  He saw all the snow-laden trees around the child.  Lastly he looked at the deep snow surrounding the whole area.  Everything was pristine and white and perfect and untouched.

And that was what bothered him, although he wasn’t sure why at first.  The servants went to go to the tree but the merchant stopped them.  He turned to the woman and asked, “Is this where you two were yesterday?”

“Yes!  This is the very spot,” she said, “and he even sat there for a bit while I searched for some wintergreen.”  She cried as she said this but the merchant was unmoved.

“And did you find any wintergreen?” he asked.

“None, but I told him we would come out again today.  He must have decided to go on his own this morning to surprise you.”  She cried as she said this, but again the merchant was unmoved.

“And then the two of you came home?” he asked.

“We did!” she cried, “and I brought the poor boy soup because he had caught a chill.  I put him to bed myself!”

The merchant stared at his wife for a long time.  The servants all just stared at one another, wondering if their master had lost his mind.  Finally, the merchant spoke.

“But you will all see,” he said, “how pristine the landscape is.”  Everyone readily nodded.  “How odd that the boy would choose his thin spring coat,” he mused, “when we have had such bitterly cold weather and he has a fine warm coat.  And isn’t it stranger still that we have seen not one footprint of that child in the woods?  Indeed, look at him.  He did not recently walk here.  The snow is perfect all around him, and the snow-covered trees have sheltered that area, and still there is not one footprint in the snow.  Not one tree has released its snow to bury him.  In fact, it seems as though the trees were trying to protect him.”

Then everyone stared coldly at the woman.  She backed up slowly, protesting her innocence, calling upon the cook and anyone who would listen.  But the evidence was as plain as day, and soon she stopped saying anything but just continued to back away, staring wildly at the crowd.  No one said a word as she backed further and further away into a stand of nearby pines.  The merchant told her to stay there and she had better not even dare to move a muscle.  She was so frightened that she did as she was told.

Then everyone turned from her and went to gather the child’s body and bring him home.  His father wept bitterly as he held him, and everyone was struck with grief.  As they made to leave, a great rumbling was heard in the woods.  They looked over to where the sound had come from.  It was directly where the woman had been just a few minutes before, although she was nowhere to be found.  Instead, it seemed as though a hill of snow had just fallen.  No one went to investigate.  No one said a word.  They all slowly went back to the merchant’s home.

High above in the trees, the Good Folk sat after shaking the mighty pines.  A large mound of very heavy snow stood perfectly silent in the woods.  Springtime would bring an interesting sight and different emotions, but for now the Lords of Winter ruled in an icy white world of evergreens.