Pete is in high motion as he must be and has for all the time we have been together in the fall. PReparing for a move, he is focused on systematic progress. I count on his process and move through my own forms of preparation. Yesterday evening I took time with the 'AINA here ... the space that nurtures us. I said my prayers of thanks, and did my hula of appreciation, acknowledging all the beings for making space for us. Where Pete is in motion, I emote the full body of feelings that come each time it's time to say good-bye. For a wanderer, I am not easy with good-byes.
The fairy tale WOOD CRAFTING was written with my fingers and the mind of the Muse from the Ledge. She has helped me author the tale you read. Place is a sacred source of connection and I have always known it matters how place is treated. The installment that follows is more about connection between time and place and beings.
Written by Mokihana Calizar
Please enjoy the tale for your own pleasure,
but do not reprint it or copy it for any other purpose without permission from the author.
So the spring of this great cycle had indeed begun with new beginnings and continuing destiny. Traveling Frog and Calliope Salamander were greeted on the trail-head beneath The Ledge with a cacophony of questions and the steel-blank stare of Traveling Frog’s Queen, Bernadette. “What ruckus stirred from The Ledge? Who camps there? Are more trees to be felled, warrens crumbled and more mansions raised?” The clans were filled with curiosity and though always a hospitable lot, they were not without a healthy sense of reserve considering the memories of Diaspora the wee folk lived with caution. “Come to the wagon for food and conversation tonight, just after the sun’s light is dimmed. Calliope and I will answer all your questions and then it will be time to prepare for the migration.” Lord Traveling Frog saved private conversation for his partner the Queen who watched and listened from the open hatch of the split front door of their home.
Bernadette’s steely eyes softened as Traveling Frog hopped to the porch of the lavender painted vardo that was indeed a near duplicate to the wheeled home now perched on The Ledge over looking the pond of Ever. Traveling Frog slipped off his outer footwear and hung them neatly on the tiny hooks pegged on the front wall before opening the door to step inside. He reached for his mate of destiny and embraced her with the same warmth he’d felt as a Rook. “It’s a fine evening, darlin’ a grand time for welcoming new family to the glen and to The Ledge.” Bernadette helped Traveling Frog with his cape and cap, hung both on the corner stand and sat at the table she had already laid out for tea. “What do you make of it my dear Froggie? Such large folk tucked into a wee wheelie home, and from the snips of gossip flying through the glen, these mortals are past the period of sapling and more aged than young. Family you say. Just what is it you know that secures you to that choice of word … family?” “Let me have a sip of that delicious tea you’ve been a brew’n bonnie bonnie Bernadette, and a taste of …?” Traveling Frog sniffed at the warmth of scone piled onto a platter in front of him, “It could only be the sweet young pine flour scone.” The sharply brewed dandelion tea and sweet pine flour scone flecked with dried huckleberries were a perfect contrast of tastes and to see his satisfaction with the late afternoon snack softened Bernadette’s impatience. She sat back, more at ease herself, and poured her froggie a second cup of dandelion tea. “The mortals on The Ledge are no strangers to the whole story of Ever my dear. These are the old ones we have been waiting for all these many cycles. Who among the many could or would find the small space on The Ledge a fit place to call ‘home?” Who among the many could or would at their stage of living mortal on the Great Planet choose to Reassemble in this fashion?” Traveling Frog gestured with a sweep of his arms and both his wings to amplify the significance of his description. “Wife oh wife of my own, the female come to live on the sloping space above is a Bird …” Traveling Frog’s eyes widened and his head rocked and again his wings lifted him off his seat and this time he spun in coiling circles that left a track of stardust lingering in the space beneath the arched roof. “This is the girl now grown nearly full-age, with the memory of Covey seeded deep in the braid of her now loosening coil.”
Traveling Frog lifted a shiny orange stone from the floor beneath the table. It took all his strength to bring it to the table. The stone dangled from a filigree of gold. “She has begun to leave gifts along the footpath they have made around their wee home. The woman called Bird comes with the memory of kin and kind and knows that in falling a part she makes room for us to join in. She is callin’ for the dreams, and brought with her a panther to help her through the in’s and out’s.” The talk about the glen already warned of a sleek black cat new to the land. “Heard you have already beckoned to the panther and made a promise of loyalty and protection.” The Queen’s talent for gleaning the sounds of her world, and beyond, was her grace. She had honed listening to an art. Bernadette reached for the shiny smooth stone and looked from Froggie to the stone with greatly softened eyes. She moved her fingers slowly over the stone and seemed to caress the little gem that was no bigger than a rain drop … but, it was very, very heavy. “She left gifts of shiny stones did she?” Traveling Frog nodded, “Yes, the Bird has left gifts of shiny stones.” “Did she leave a pair of shiny orange stones?” Bernadette turned to Froggie, knowing full well what the answer would be. Traveling Frog smiled, hopped to the stand where his cape hung and reached into the hidden pocket sewn on the under-side. The twin to the first shiny orange stone filled his hand.
Photo Credit: Carnelians from Wiki Commons