A Meeting in the Faraway Tree

Posted by Barbara in Helpers of the Land, Lemurian Grand Tour, Barbara’s Journey. add a comment , edit post

A Tale of My Meeting with Dame Washalot in the Faraway Tree,
based on Week 10’s travels on the Grand Lemurian Tour.

The scrubbing brush, a coarse bristle hand brush and pale yellow in color, looked to be a fearsome thing. Its bristles were sharp and left red marks upon any skin it scrubbed. And that skin was soon to be mine. Not that I didn’t deserve a good scrubbing. I did. And Dame Washalot claimed she could scrub all those nasty wrinkles right out of my life. And who wants to sport a mass of wrinkles? Certainly not me. Why, those life wrinkles were getting deeper each day. So did I want to choose living with those gully wrinkles or enduring the scrub of a lifetime?

I thought it over a millisecond, turned chicken and scrambled to my feet to climb down the Faraway Tree, but not before Dame Washalot reached for my arm. “You’re not leaving now, are you?” she asked. “We’ve barely begun. Take off that first layer, Dearie. Get rid of those old clothes. They’re full of old memories and nasty ones at that. I mean to scrub you clean of niggling thoughts, all those needless worries that you carry everywhere, those ’should a done’s’ and ‘could a done’s.’ But I can’t scrub off those ancient, creeping memories that surround the air you breathe. I can burn them away if you wish, but you must first let them go. They’ve taught you nothing useful, nor will they ever.” I squirmed under her gaze as I fiddled with my buttons. She gave me a more determined look and stamped her foot. The tree leaves surrounding us quivered and a few dropped through the thick branches. “No more fussing, Dearie. Hand me your clothes. Why, they’re tattered with memories. Into the fire, they’ll soon go. You go ahead and jump into my tub; relax in that warm, comforting water. Think pleasant thoughts and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

I hesitated, her words whirling in my mind. “Pleasant thoughts? I haven’t any pleasant thoughts to think, have I? I haven’t had much practice…” Yet I leaned my head against the bath pillow, perfectly anchored on the edge of the tub. I was working hard to fill my mind with pleasantries, when the Faraway Tree was jarred by a whoosh near the blazing fire. Looking over, I was surprised to see Dame Washalot dancing by a tiny, enclosed hearth with a roaring fire and smashing little darts of flames which were escaping the blaze. “Whoosh! Whoosh!” She snapped at the flying embers with her wash rag, snapping them into oblivion. Then suddenly I no longer saw the raging fire. I only saw the Dame standing over me with her yellow scrub brush.

“There, there now, Dearie. All gone, that terrible pain you’ve carried. All gone. But you must help me with the next ones. Think about those thoughts that come visiting too often on long afternoons or dark nights. Those thoughts that force feed you guilt and sadness. Quick, now. Give me a thought. Just throw me the first one that comes to mind.”

Suddenly, there were jagged thoughts stabbing my consciousness and I couldn’t wait to pull out the sharpness. “My mother. My sister. I worry about them all the time. I know I should be taking care of them, keeping them safe and comfortable. I could make enough space, let them live with me.” Tears began to sting my eyes.

“Ah, yes. That’s a big thought you slung off, first. A mighty big thought.” Dame Washalot scrubbed and scrubbed, bubbles gurgled and surfaced and floated through the leaves and out of sight. As she scrubbed, she whispered a few words in my wet ear. “Your mum and sister, they’re happy for now. They like being on their own, and they’re okay. So let them be happy and independent as long as they can be.” She patted my arm and went on. “When it’s time, there’ll be decisions to make, but never ones you’ll need to make alone.”

“But those decisions!” I wailed, nearly sliding underneath the tumbling water. “I’m so afraid of those decisions. I’ll need to take care of them or put them away. It’s my responsibility.” I sniffled as the tears tumbled down my cheeks.

Dame pulled me half out of the water and shook me a bit. “Your responsibility? Seems I remember you’ve been told to take care of yourself. That’s your responsibility and it’s plenty enough for you to handle. Let your mother and sister do for now.” Dame wiped the tears from my face, and gave my streaked cheeks a scrub or two.

“But I’m the only living relative they have…”

“You want them to continue having a living relative, don’t you? Then don’t use the bit of strength you can muster trying to care for yourself and them, too. Listen to your doctors, your husband. The answer’s been staring you in the face, but you’re too busy looking over your shoulder for the shadows. Let me know when you figure out what to do.”

In a show of uncertainty, I shook my head. But I really did know the answer and Dame Washalot knew I knew. She nodded at me and then towards the gauzy sky. “Oh, all right. I’ll give you a hint. Let those worries fly away. Only you can let them go.” She scrubbed and scrubbed down to my very bones. And soon I watched large bubbles float above the forest breezes and pop on the very tops of the pointed evergreen trees.

By now, I’d had some thinking time, and everyone’s advice was beginning to make some sense. So I gave it a try, speaking my own mind. “Maybe I do understand. I know the course I should follow. I need to use what strength I have, prudently and wisely. Am I right?”

“Yes, quite right. Listen to your advisers’ opinions, think on it carefully, then the final choice is yours to make.” I then noticed she was watching me closely, but I couldn’t read the look in her eyes. She eyed me from the tip of my soaking wet head to the tips of my pruney toes.

Puzzled, I felt dizzy and was thrown quite off my feet. The tree branches jigged underneath me and shook me hard. I felt different, somehow. Maybe a little better than before. Finally, my neurons connected. “Dame Washalot! The weight on my shoulders is lessening!”

“Indeed it is. Let me scrub awhile over there, Dearie, while you tell me a bit more. Out comes your next thought…”

So I fretted and stammered once more. The Dame was right. I did have another big worry, but I didn’t know what she could do about it. After all these going ons, I was still a Doubting Thomas. What could she do about the persistent nagging deep in my heart, the one I’d never shared with anyone. After all, I thought, she was only a wash woman.

The Dame spoke sharply to me for the first time. “Careful now, Dearie. I can read those thoughts of yours.” In a brief fit of pique, she banged her scrub brush on a thick branch, and bruised its bark. Realizing what she’d done, she immediately turned repentant, scrubbed the bark gently, and gave it a light kiss. Finally she turned her attention back to me. “Sorry about that bit of temper. Dames aren’t 100% perfect, though we like to think we are. Now about the rest of those worries. I can’t scrub them away quite yet. You must tell me about them, acknowledge that they’re unwanted lurkers, and swear you’ll tolerate their presence no longer.”

“But, Dame Washalot, I’m not sure I can.”

“No, buts. I will not listen to anymore ‘buts’ from you. Those trapped ideas feed your guilt with extra fodder. And why? What are they nagging you about?”

I knew the ideas of which she spoke. I heard them constantly berating me, and I did wish for them to disappear. Still, it was hard to deal with more guilt, even though I felt like exploding. “Because. Because. It’s because I’ve been such a terrible mother. When my children were young and in need of a mother’s touch and love, I wasn’t there for them. I am a selfish and self-centered woman. I don’t deserve to be a mother.”

“You surely have a really bad case of guilt; I’ll need to scrub you even harder. By the way, you don’t listen to your guides, do you? Once again, let me tell you. You weren’t acting selfish or self-centered. You were doing the right thing. Before you learned to take care of your babies, you needed to learn how to love yourself. And you fought for both your health and your life. You fought that battle, not only for yourself, but also for your family. And you threw out your demons using a large serving of Mother’s Love, the strongest kind of love there is. Can’t you see? You won!”

“Then why do I feel I’ve disappointed them.”

“Dearie, maybe I need to scrub inside your ears. Listen up! Are your children happy? Fulfilled? Independent? And do they show you their love?”

“Hey, you’re scrubbing too hard.” I was skilled at procrastinating when I didn’t want to play her game.

Dame Washalot, however, wouldn’t let me skulk away. She was on a mission. “I’m scrubbing as hard as you need, and as hard as I can. Now answer me!”

“Okay! Okay! They’re happy and fulfilled and independent. And I guess they love me.”

“So let your guilt fall away. Freedom from guilt, that’s what you need most of all.” She swiped her hand through the tub water and churned her fist in the dirty, scrubbing muck.

Hundreds of bubbles broke away from the suds. They floated towards the heavens and I heard tiny explosions as the bubbles popped. When I finally looked into the water, the surface was clear. And it was hard for me to trust what my eyes were seeing. I saw my loved ones’ smiling faces. All my family who I felt so guilty and worried about. They were smiling and waving, and I heard them say over and over, “We love you. We love you. And we know that you’ve always loved us and cared!”

That last bit they said? The caring bit? That finally did it. The guilt that was still trapped in my heart floated away through a tiny hole. And then that hole stitched itself closed so well, it didn’t even leave a scar. I hollered then, smack dab into Dame Washalot’s right ear. “My family loves me! They’re telling me so.” I hollered those words over and over, as I stared at the faces in the water.

“Hmmmph.” She finally looked over at my rejoicing family and snorted. “Well, my job’s finally done. Looks like you’re all spruced up now, pure as a newborn, but I’ll give you one of my spare brushes just in case. You start carrying that nasty stuff on those shoulders of yours, I want you to scrub it away. Hear me?”

“Yes. Yes, I hear you. And I want to thank you so much.” I nearly curtsied, but held myself in check, and simply pumped her hand up and down.

“Well, Dearie, you can thank yourself. You did all the work. You knew the answers well enough.”

A fantastic thought came to my mind. “I’m just like Dorothy in Oz,” I said, a bright smile on my face. “And you’re my Glenda.”

Dame Washalot gave me a strange look. “Dorothy in Oz? Glenda?” She snickered into her fist before she gathered enough presence to speak without spurting out her words. “Why, Dearie, don’t you think you’re getting your children’s literature quite mixed-up?”

Then the good Dame and I laughed together ’til we nearly choked and we rolled about until we slipped through the leaves and landed on the forest’s cushioned earth. Oh, it felt so good to laugh hard like that. I tumbled about with joy and abandon. And when I stood up, I stood straight and proud. That is, until Dame Washalot gave out another loud “Hmmmph.”

“I would suggest,” she said, all prim and proper, “if you plan on prancing through this part of my forest, you might put these new clothes on. You’re carrying about bum naked.” She pointed her finger at me and I blushed everywhere I could possibly blush. Then I snatched up those clothes and nearly jumped into them. As I hit the ground running on the familiar path toward the Manor’s back door, my face was bursting with the biggest smile, ever.

And do you want me to tell you just one more thing? I haven’t stopped smiling yet.

Dream Seed Packet

My seed packet seemed to have changed…

Posted by She Wolf

Dream Seeds

I got back to Riversleigh today- it is nice to stay a few nights in my own bed before I go off again. I really enjoyed my stay with Lissa and Theo; I learned a lot from those two remarkable people. In fact, after seeing what Lissa has been doing, I may spend more of my time on my fiber arts. With the exception of my knitting, I have neglected them lately. And after Theo- well, I think I’ll expand my CD collection. My wooden flute I’ll save for myself in private, at least for now. It’s better that way.

After I plunked my bag in my room and checked to make sure the Door was behaving itself, I pulled out the little bag from the Enchanteur and headed for the greenhouse. I hadn’t been out there before, so I spent a little time just looking around. There were all sorts of beautiful and exotic blooms and some very strange plants as well. I could tell that some of them were dream seeds planted by others that were coming to fruition. I hoped mine would do well, too.

Finally, I opened the little bag of assorted items and fished out the package of dream seeds. Now, I hadn’t looked at it too hard when I first got the bag, and I had been too busy since, but I didn’t think the package had looked quite the same when I first got it.

It was a lovely package, with butterflies on the front, and the words Butterfly Brand Dream Seeds.

I felt something tickling my ear. I looked up and saw a butterfly flitting around a blossom nearby. A slight breeze (in the greenhouse?) brushed past me, and I thought I heard a giggle.

“Butterfly man, is that you? Are you responsible for these dream seeds?” I asked.

There was no answer. The butterfly on the flower was gone and the breeze didn’t come back. “All right, then,” I said, “Have it your way.” I went back to reading the seed packet.

On the back it said:

Butterfly Brand Dream Seeds

To plant: Plant in a colorfully decorated pot with rich soil

               Water carefully with stream water

                Feed with one teaspoon honey diluted with ¼ water

                Place in a sunny window or outdoors in sunshine

When plants reach 2” place a stake or small trellis for vines to climb

Continue to keep plant moist, but not wet, and feed with honey mixture twice weekly

To use: Scent from flowers may be used as aromatherapy for creativity

             Tea may be made from dried leaves and blooms

                 Steep one tablespoon per cup of boiling water; may also be served iced

Promotes flights of fancy, colorful use of language and art, and generally following your muse.

These seeds did sound intriguing. I looked around to see if I could find a brightly painted pot. Sure enough, someone who liked to throw pots and paint and glaze them in bright colors had left a rather tipsy stack of their finished projects out here for us to use. I sorted through them until I found one that I really liked- It was glazed in a lovely bright blue and had green vines with yellow and pink flowers going around the outside. It was cheerful and certainly seemed bright enough for the butterfly dream seeds.

I filled the pot with some of the nice rich compost-filled soil kept in the greenhouse and shook the seeds out of the packet. There were four of them, and I decided to plant them all, one for each direction. They were odd looking seeds; each was about the size of a pea, and each one of them was a different color – blue, purple, yellow and pink. I poked little holes in the soil and dropped a seed in each one, patting the soil gently back over the top. Then I took a watering can outside and looked around until I found a little stream to fill the can. On my way back to the greenhouse, I stopped in the kitchen and begged some honey off of the cook. She was very nice about it and sent me on my way with a little crock full of it, so I could feed my plant regularly. I watered the seeds, and fed them the honey mixture, and then decided I would like to keep the plant in my room. The pot full of soil was heavy, and I staggered back to my room under the weight of it. Finally, it was safe on a table by one of my windows, and I put the empty packet in a drawer to keep.

The window was open, and a butterfly drifted in briefly, hovered over the pot, and floated back out again.

I leaned out the window, but no one was in sight. Still, I spoke aloud, “Okay, Butterfly Man, I don’t know if you are in cahoots with the Enchanteur over this or not, but the dream seeds are planted. If you want to help them grow, that’s fine with me!” 

I spent the rest of the evening cleaning up the things from my trip so I could be ready to go again in a few days, and then took a very long, scented bath before I went to bed.

 

This time my dreams were of butterflies dancing over gleaming gold nuggets.

 

Posted by She Wolf

A Map of the Heart

Lemurian Tour — Adventure Calendar 9

Atria, ventricles, mitral valves, aorta, coronary arteries and veins. Pumping muscles, swooshing blood, constant machine, beating, beating, beating. Life.

Canvas, acrylics, clay, oil paint, collage and mixed media. Squirting media, plopping gesso, blobs of color, creating, creating, creating. Life.

Handmade paper, India ink and calligraphic pens, metallic markers and stamping pads. Calligraphic script, hand carved stamps, pens for outlining, writing, writing, writing. Life.

Wisconsin, West Coast, East Coast, Grand Canyon, Caribbeans and New York City. Nature trails, ocean views, sandstone mazes, Big Apple, traveling, traveling, traveling. Life.

Husband, daughters, son, mother, sister, friends, all talking, visiting, sharing and playing, loving, loving, loving. Life.

my heart, my art,
my words, my tours,
my many loves, and He above…

Life.

The Gleam Within

Theo met me as I was walking back down the mountain to Owl Creek. He was empty handed, but looked very happy, as it he had been successful. He smiled at me. “Well, by the smile on your face, you look like you must have found gold,” he said.

 

“I did,” I answered him, and showed him the contents of my pack.

 

He whistled. “Good job!  I’m glad you found some. Why are you carrying it like that though?”

 

“What do you mean?” I was confused.

 

“Let’s get back down to the house, and I’ll show you what I mean,” he said, and set a pace my tired legs could barely keep up with.

 

When we got to the house, Theo called for Lissa to join us, and we all sat down in the front room. “Show Lissa your find,” he told me.

 

I did this, and she smiled and asked, “But why are you carrying it that way?”

 

I was completely puzzled. “Theo asked the same thing. But I don’t understand what you mean,” I said.

 

“Pick up a nugget,” Lissa told me.

 

I did, holding it in the palm of my hand.

 

“Now, relax, close your hand around it. Do you feel what’s inside it?”

 

I could feel something, yes. It was like the feeling I had when I first found the nugget- a germ of an idea, a flash of inspiration gleamed at me like the nugget had in the dark mine.

 

“Oh!” I said.

 

“That’s it. You’re getting it! Now just keep doing that. Do you feel it becoming a part of you? Reaching down inside you and growing?

 

I did.

 

“Good. Now you see what the gold can do. Reach for it, feel it, let it grow within you. When you are creating, let the gleam from this gold flow into what you are making, let it help you create. You’ll be surprised at what you can do with it when you have some practice.”

 

I smiled at them. “Thank you so much. You’ve truly helped.”

 

“Let me get you a bag for the rest of your nuggets,” said Lissa, getting up.

 

I turned to Theo, “How do you carry your gold?” I asked.

 

“Look!” He opened his hand, and I saw a gleam of gold in the palm, but it was like it part of his body.

 

“With practice, you will be able to do this too. Don’t be alarmed if the alluvial gold becomes one with you. It just means you have learned to tap it at will. Lissa doesn’t even need to be physically at the mine anymore to find the gold. Keep trying. You’ll get there too.”

 

Lissa came back with a little embroidered bag- despite the fact that the gold was weighing me down, I was surprised to see that there wasn’t a lot of it physically. It was just very heavy, very rich. “I keep these around for the people I host,” she smiled. “I’m so glad you were able to find gold!” She helped me transfer the nuggets into the bag- except for the one in my hand, which I was surprised to see was like Theo’s now – part of me.

 

“Good!” said Lissa. “You’re catching on fast.

 

The gleam from the nugget was begging me to go and write for a while. “I can see what you want to do!” Lissa laughed. “You’ll find pens and paper at the desk in your room. Dinner won’t be ready for a while. Go and write. I know that Theo always has to play when he gets home.” Laughing, she left for the kitchen. Theo and I looked at each other and smiled, and he reached for his fiddle as I headed for the stairs.

I had found the secret of my own spark of creativity- buried deep inside, in the dark, where the gleams from the gold shone brightly. I thought that may have been the easy part- finding that it was there. Now came the work- finding it again when I needed it, and leaning to use it.

 

Posted by She Wolf

Depths of the Mine

When I stepped through the door, I found myself in a white swirling mist, seemingly lit from within. Barely seen muted wisps of colors slid by me in this mist and I grasped at them as they went by, only to find that they were insubstantial and slipped through my fingers. I went deeper into the cavern and the mist lightened a little bit. Now I could see flashes as of gold along the wall, dimmed by the thinning mist. I ran over to them, but they were not really there, either. They were just illusions, fed by desire, born from idle wishes for quick results, no more than fairy lights.

So I went deeper into the caverns, following a trail that I felt, rather than saw. The mist grew thinner and the cavern grew darker. I followed the cavern deep into the heart of the mountain. Finally, it grew so dark that I had to light my candle. (Funny, that- I had been in caves before, and usually when you pass the second bend, all, and I do mean all, the light is gone. Here, it went away slowly and gradually, along with the obscuring mist.)

By candle light, I slowly worked my way deeper and deeper into the mine, checking the walls as I went for signs of gold. The way grew narrow and the walls grew rougher. I was seeing bands of quartz in them, though, which was a good sign.

Finally, with my candle half gone, I squeezed through an opening into a small room that seemed to be a dead end. The milky quartz that formed it gleamed in the light from my candle, throwing reflections everywhere. It was fairly dry in here, and warmer than I had expected. There was a sandy spot in the middle of the floor with a smooth rock behind it, and I went over and sat down, leaning against the rock. For a few minutes, I watched the light from my candle skitter around the walls and then quite suddenly, my candle went out.

I was startled, but didn’t panic. I could relight it when I was ready. Instead, I sat in the complete darkness. I listened to my own breathing, felt my heart beating. I began to breath slowly and felt myself relax and slow down. I closed my eyes and then laughed at myself. It was so dark that having my eyes open or shut would make no difference, so I opened them again.

Breathe in, breathe out. Relax. Let your mind flow.

Then I saw it. A flash of gold. And then another. Flash after flash of gold came from around the room.

I got up, slowly, carefully, and went over to one of the golden gleams. I touched it, and it was real. I pried the nugget loose from the wall, and then went on to another. Nugget after nugget was added to my load.

Finally, with my hands and pack weighed down with the precious resource, I sat down again, in the deep darkness, feeling my way back to where I thought I remembered the sandy spot and rock being. Leaning back against the stone, I breathed slowly and deeply once more, and calmed myself from the excitement of finding so much hidden gold.

Then, feeling like I had done enough for one day, I lit my candle again. Once more the room glistened with the light dancing on the quartz vein. There was no gold to be seen, although I knew it was there. I had the proof in my pack and in my hands. Heavy, rich gold- I looked at it in the dim candlelight and marveled.

Slowly, I made my way back to the surface of the mine, following long passages that grew progressively lighter and brighter, easy passages filled with the false promise of quick riches, away from the true source of wealth hidden deep in the darkness of the mine.

When I reached the surface, the sun was setting in a crimson blaze and the air was crisp and fresh. I showed the keeper my gold, and she smiled at me, and nodded. I was exhausted, and slowly made my way back to town, to my host home.

 

Posted by She Wolf

What Shall I Slough

What shall I slough? What useless old skin shall I squeeze out of and toss away?

 

Impatience- that one might be good. Or how about self-doubt? That’s a nasty one. But it is very deep in the layers of myself, and won’t come loose readily. I’ll have to work on that one.

 

Hmmm, sloughing. I need to learn to take the time to finish my work properly. That includes my knitting and embroidery. A big box full of completed projects that I never bothered to mat and frame, bags with pieces for a child’s sweater never blocked and sewn together, stories and poems written and tucked away without smoothing and editing, or rushed out to put on my blog before I read it that one last time, so I have to go back and edit it when I see an error later- all cured by a little more patience.

 

I’m not impatient with the process of creating, just with the polishing and finishing, the going back over things. Perhaps this is what I shall slough, and make an effort to polish the bits and bobs I create so that they are not hidden away in a box somewhere, or put out with incompletions and  errors for all the world to see.

 

Procrastination, perhaps. That’s another one I could slough. There has been some discussion about that, and avoidance and distractions. I suppose it goes hand in hand with its brother impatience above, leaving those same boxfuls of completed work shoved away in a closet. Hmmm…

 

Choices for the moldy old skin I shall rid myself of – this is hard. I know some of the things that should go, but which one?

Finally, I think I have chosen; I’ll try the impatience today, I think, and the sloughing begins. I pull and scrape. It feels good, this letting go of things, but a little bit scary. I feel a bit naked. What if I need this later?

 

No, no, it has to go. It peels off in a cloudy bits, making a small heap on the floor. Finally, I finish and sweep it up, putting it in a pile with all the other sloughed pieces people have left here.

 

The Keeper of the Mine smiles warmly at me, and then says, “Good job. I know this isn’t easy. And it may try to grow back; in fact it almost certainly will, but you know now to be on guard for it, to slough it away each time you feel it growing back and accumulating again. Now, you are ready. Come with me, and put your hand in the handprint on the door.”

 Posted by She Wolf

Lissa and Theo- Magic from the Mines

After I placed my appeasement in the box, the Keeper of the Mines took me to meet my home host. Lissa was a shy young girl, who smiled and said nothing when we were introduced.

“Don’t let her fool you. She may be young, and she may be shy, but Lissa here knows as much about the mines as anybody around here. She was following her daddy down those shafts as soon as she could toddle. Last year when she moved out on her own, she decided to be a home host. And she’s a good one!” The Keeper of the Mine beamed at Lissa, who still didn’t say anything, but smiled back.

“Got your stuff? Good. You just follow Lissa now and she’ll take care of you. Lissa floated out the door, as if she had wings instead of feet, and I clumped along behind her. We walked for a short way to the edge of town, and a neat little cottage with a picket fence and flowers growing everywhere. I could see vegetables growing in amongst the flowers and spied more growing around the sides of the house. The windows were open, and I could hear a canary singing his heart out inside.

“Come on in.” Lissa had a sweet, quiet voice. She opened the front door to a busy front room full of quilts and embroidered pieces. Watercolors of botanicals hung on the walls, and there were skeins of yarn in brilliant hues hanging near the fireplace, where a spinning wheel sat like a cat on the hearth rug. We walked through to the kitchen, where more yarn hung and a dye pot simmered on the stove. The table was painted in bright colors and traditional stencil patterns, with hand-woven place mats and napkins on each side. There was a clear vase with flowers in the middle of the table.

“I’ll get us some tea and scones, if you like. Dinner will be later.” She spoke so softly that I had to listen carefully.

“Sure. Tea and scones would be fine,” I replied, and looked around the room some more.

The floor was slate with braided rugs scattered across it, and copper saucepans hug from the beams near the stove.  The kettle that Lissa put on was shiny copper, too. The canary who was singing so industriously was in the window looking out over the back garden (again full of flowers and veggies as far as I could see) and to my surprise, I saw Someone, the cat, walking into the room.  She walked over to me and wound around my ankles. “Well, I see you landed on your feet, too,” she said. “Lissa is wonderful. As long as I leave her little canary bird alone we will be fine. And the other birds, too,” she added, with a glance at Lissa, who nodded at her. She padded out of the kitchen and into the living room.

When the tea and scones and several sorts of cookies were in front of us, she sat down.

I was curious. “I understand the mines can be quite dangerous. That’s why we do so much preparation before we go down. How is it that you went down when you were so small?” I asked.

“My dad always took care that I was safe. I didn’t do any actual mining until I was old enough to understand what I was doing, but you know, to little ones, it’s instinctive, it’s play. They just know how to do these things. It’s only as we get older that we loose the ability to mine the alluvial mine. Dad just made sure that I never lost my ability from childhood to adulthood.” She shrugged and smiled.

“I think I see,” I answered.

“It’s not something that a lot of parents are willing to do, but as I said, Dad always kept me safe. And he’s pleased and proud of the miner I’ve become. When we’re done, I’ll show you some of the things I do.”

I found out that most of the plants in Lissa’s garden were good to use as dye stuffs, and she had a small flock of sheep on the edge of town, which was where she got her wool.

“I sell the wool I spin and dye, and the quilts I make. I also weave a little bit, and sell some of that, too.”  She became bolder when talking about the things she loved to create.

The botanical sketches on the wall were hers, too, and there were several large, hand bound volumes with her records for dye mixes and results.

She showed me around the rest of the house. The other two rooms on the first floor were her bedroom, in the front, and her workroom in the back, which had French doors opening onto the garden and the same slate floors as the kitchen. It was full of fabrics and yarns and a huge loom,  another spinning wheel, and plants hanging from the ceiling beams in bunches, drying.  There was a cabinet full of embroidery fibers. There were two sewing machines, and a wall full of cloth in all sorts of colors. A table held more fabric and patterns. Near the doors at the back of the room were an easel and paints. I ooh and ahhed over all of it, and she blushed with pleasure.

 When we went back out, I saw a fiddle on a table in the front room. “And is this yours, too?”

“No, much as I love it, music isn’t one of my abilities. I play a little on a recorder, but not too often. That belongs to my young man, Theo. He has just learned the mines, and is up there today. He should be back soon, and will join us for dinner.”

It was getting late, near sunset, and Lissa went back  into the kitchen to finish up dinner. I sat in the pleasant front room and took out my knitting. It seemed right here.

A few minutes later, a tired looking young man came in the front door. He smiled, and said, “You must be She Wolf. The Keeper of the Mine told me you would be here. I’m Theo. It’s nice to meet you.” He smiled and shook my hand and reached for the fiddle. Tuning it quickly, he was soon lost in his music, and I was too. I was surprised when Lissa called us for dinner. Time had gone somewhere else, with the music.

Dinner was tasty and filling- a beef stew that had simmered all day on the back of the stove, bread fresh that morning, and a salad fresh from the garden. Beer brewed locally went with it, and there was apple pie for dessert. While we talked, Theo told us about his day at the mine. “It’s getting easier; I’ve found a good rich vein,” he said. He turned to me. “Tomorrow I will go up with you, to the mine. It’s exhilarating- you’ll see.”

I offered to help with the dishes, but Theo shooed me away, saying this was his job.

We retired to the front room where Lissa lit a fire, and sat down to spin. I picked my knitting back up, and Theo soon joined us again. He picked up his fiddle  and created his magic once more. Later we talked, with Someone the cat purring in one lap after another, and Lissa pressed some of her exquisite yarn on me- I offered to pay her for it, but she refused. “There’s not much; it was an experiment. But I know you like the colors, and it will make a nice pair of socks. If you keep knitting at this rate, you’ll finish that pair and have nothing to knit for the rest of your journey.”

I looked at the sock in my hands- it was half done, in the course of this one evening. “It must be the magic effect of your fiddle!” I teased.

Theo looked serious. “That’s what I hope for,” he replied.

Lissa showed me my room soon after. It was up a tiny winding set of stairs in the kitchen. “When I decided to be a home host, I converted part of my attic to a little set of rooms for my guests,” she said. “There is a bedroom and a bathroom just for you to use.”

True to her word, there was a cheerful bedroom under the eaves, with a window seat over looking the back garden, and a small bathroom with an enormous tub. The other half of the attic was left for storage, she explained.

Handing me towels smelling of fresh air and lavender, and telling me to let her know if I need anything, Lissa left me to myself. I took a long, soaky bath in the huge tub, and then curled up under the bright quilt on the bed. Theo was playing his music again, and I fell asleep to dreams of sheep with thick warm fleeces chasing after brightly colored musical notes dancing beside a river.

 

Posted by She Wolf

Arriving At Owl Creek

George and I, along with our traveling companions, reached the town of
Owl Creek today, where the mine is. It did not take long for our friends to find new homes, but I found that I would miss this brave bunch of travelers. Someone, as the cat continued to call herself, said she might think about coming to visit me at Riversleigh. The dog said that he would miss me, too, but that a home and hearth were very important to him and he wasn’t sure he’d want to leave his new one. He left wagging and snuffling at his new master’s hand. The rooster didn’t make it quite as far as town. There was a small farm right outside of town that needed a rooster so he stayed there.

George was happy to get to a nice warm stable and a bucket of oats. I had enjoyed his companionship and learned many lessons under his tutelage. I promised to come and talk with him again soon.

I met the Keeper of the Mine. She told me that I needed to place my appeasement in the wooden box before I could go any farther. This I have done. Now I will wait and see what happens next.

Alluvial Appeasement

My body is granite, deep and strong

My veins are slick quartz

Running deep within me

And my blood, it runs golden.

I flex in the rain and the wind

I flex in the heat and the cold

And as I flex, little pieces of me

Slough off and fall loose

Little bits of my quartz veins

Flecks of my golden blood

Slough off and fall loose

For miners to wash loose

And scrape up

And gain my gold, my golden blood.

Those who know me

Know my ways

Learn to seek down inside me

Find the source

Of all the bits

Of all the flecks

That slough off and fall loose

They learn to sink right down inside me

And bring up deep buckets

Of my golden blood

My priceless golden blood

To refresh their souls.

What is their sacrifice?

Their pain and suffering

Their joy and pleasure

Their time and dedication

Themselves.

 

Posted by She Wolf