May 01, 2012

Tomten hollow

Tromping in to the woods, he is not only looking for beetles and forest moss, soft mint green lichen spots on the trees where he can rest his head...

No, he spies for these wonders, but mostly he is looking for woodfolk:  fairies and gnomes and tomtens all who have stoked his imagination in these past few weeks.  A slight cosmic shift from Star Wars to dwarfs and leprechauns, sometimes only for a short period of time each day, and I couldn't be happier.  There is magic in these woods say the deer and barred owl- 
Bear now feels it.

I've fondly told Bear of my own childhood encounters with gnomes: the red capped, droll figures would leave quarters in a particular tree hollow at my grandparent's house, thus cementing my belief at how magical their lawn was; I had already seen squirrels slip into my grandpa's pocket for nuts, delightedly chattering about their findings.

Following the path as it weaves and bobs through the speckled forest floor, Bear makes it to the tomtens' hollow and squeals when he discovers they have hauled his painted rock through the front entry.

Squeals again when a small token of thanks is discovered...

I could stay out here forever we say breathlessly to each other, but that wouldn't work and secretly we know it.  To stay in the forest forever, one must have fur or wings, bits of fairy dust imprinting with each footfall.  We are lucky though, that to appreciate the forest, one only need drape the cloak of fairy dust around one's shoulders while breathing in the balsam air.  Wonders simply arise from this. 

Wonders and a calmness that stays hugging your shoulders long after the invisible cloak has been returned for the day and the tomten sets out on his nightly rounds.



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