"The Dispersing Agent", (a story) Part 2

I wanted to go to the swamp after breakfast.  I had things to do there, but Dad was already prickly about the gun and because I'd left the sprinklers on in the garden, so I helped pick peas and pull onions.  When I pushed the garden cart up to the washing station I heard the bluebirds twittering around the bird house.  That could only mean one thing.  I ran to the shed and got a burlap sack.  A big black snake, longer than I was tall, was under the bird house, starting to crawl up the pole.  I got him behind the head and put him in the sack, tail first, then tied it shut.  I wished I could take him down the creek road on my bike, far enough away that he wouldn't be back, but Dad would notice if I went missing that long, so I hauled the sack to the front field and dumped the snake out, hoping it would give the baby birds a few more days before he came back.  Maybe they'd fly by then.

I saw the Watchers again on my way back, five of them, squatting around the old sink hole at the top of the field next to the woods.  The sink hole was a creepy place.  There were old pieces of rusted metal in it that someone had thrown out long ago, and slimy mosses clinging to the sides that smelled really rank.  One time I saw a frog with five legs jump out of it.

 Maybe the Watchers lived in the sink hole.   I didn't look at them directly, but threw glances their way.  All I could see was dark shapes.  The sun never seemed to shine on them - they were like black ink blobs that absorbed all the light and turned it into something vile.  I wasn't sure if they knew I could see them or not.  I figured it was better to pretend I couldn't.  It might help me learn what they were up to.  I ran down to the pasture gate, the hairs on my neck prickling because I was sure they were watching me.  Out of breath, I stopped at the big oak tree just beside the gate.  I felt safe there.

The little brown man was sitting under the tree in his usual place.  I'd seen him there many times as far back as I could remember.  He always wore a grey vest with fringes on it and a pair of short pants made of small pieces of cloth stitched together like a quilt.  His hair was long and tangled, his face wrinkled like an old dried apple.  He was pretty ugly, but I thought he looked wise, and there was a peacefulness about him.  I often saw him sewing bits of cloth together with a wooden needle and coarse thread.  Sometimes I left rags under the tree for him.  We'd never spoken, but if our eyes happened to meet, he would turn his head and squint sideways at me in a way that seemed friendly.  Today he was winding a ball of thread onto a spindle, carefully working the knots out with his fingers.   As I started to pass, he raised a finger and I stopped.

"It's because of what was put into the ground there.  That's why you see them."  His voice was gravelly, like he hadn't spoken in a long time.

He went back to winding the thread, and I stood there, thinking.  Was he talking about the Watchers?

"Are they bad?" I asked.

He was silent a long time, and I thought he wasn't going to speak again.  But finally he said, "Their element was disturbed.  Now they're out of place."

That didn't sound too good.  I wanted to ask more, but I had to help Dad dig potatoes, and when I went back after lunch, the little brown man was gone.

I decided to work on the Peoples' Agricultural Project, PAP.  I found two buckets and a plastic scoop that was part of a ball-tossing game I'd gotten on my last birthday, and headed out to the tunnel through the hedge.  It stretched along the fence line between the garden and the pasture, down the hill to the swamp.  I used it when I didn't want Dad to see me and give me more chores to do.  Plus now I had the Watchers to worry about.

The Hedge Queen met me at the entrance, wearing her filthy old dress with the raveling hem.  She had belted it up with some twists of honeysuckle, but it still hung like a sack.

"Rent", she said, thrusting her hand in my face and rubbing her knobby thumb and fingers together.

I pulled two of Glen's teething biscuits from my pocket and handed them over.  The Queen eyed them suspiciously.  They'd gotten a bit damp and the corners were mushy.

"Who's been chewing on them?"

"No one", I said.

She pursed her lips.  "What about the striped sticks?  I want more of those."

She meant the candy canes.  I'd found them stashed in the attic with the Christmas decorations.

"Tomorrow", I promised.  I could see her face taking on that sourpuss look and added, "I could probably bring some chocolate, too.  And a mirror."

"Well", she said, poking at her snarled hair.  A flea jumped out.  "Don't forget.  It's a real inconvenience having you traipse through here all the time.  It disturbs my subjects no end."  She put the biscuits in her pocket and gave a shrill whistle to let the hedge people know I was coming, otherwise I'd be all scratched up and bloody, with burrs in my hair and spider webs stuck to my clothes by the time I reached the end of the tunnel.  I crouched down and humped along through the dim shadows in a half-crawl, half-duck walk.  The buckets and scoop slowed me down, but I wan't in a hurry.  I could hear the hedge people tapping and whistling in the honeysuckle.  I didn't disturb them.  I wanted to stay on their good side in case I ever needed a favor.

At the swamp there were hundreds of tadpoles wiggling in the shrinking puddles, trying to stay wet.  We hadn't had rain for quite awhile.  Last spring I had dug out a small area to make a deeper trough that would hole water longer.  I worked as fast as I could, scooping tads and transferring them to the deeper water, putting some into my buckets.  But I knew I couldn't save them all.  I felt sad for all those frogs and toads that would never have a change to grow up and hop around.  If only we'd get a giant rain.  But then the potatoes and onions would rot, and the tomato plants would get diseased, and Dad would be in a bad mood.  I scooped up some algae for the tads to eat, then went up the hill with my filled buckets.

I had three flying saucer sleds set up around the garden, plus two more holes I'd dug and lined with plastic.  I emptied my buckets of tadpoles into the mini ponds.  The frogs would hop down to the creek when they grew legs, but the toads would stay and eat bugs in the garden.

Mom called me up to the house.  She had Glen on her hip.

"I have to run to the store," she said.  "Will you watch Glenny for me?  I won't be gone more than an hour.  Dad's in the barn if you need him."

"Okay", I said.  It would hamper my work, but I could manage.  After Mom left I heaved Glen into his stroller and strapped him in.  He was a very fat baby and weighed about a ton.  We started out the drive and the Old Man came with us.  When we got to the cane patch along the creek road I parked Glen in the shade and gave him a cookie.  I figured I had maybe five minutes before he started to fuss.

The Old Man dug up a mole and started running in circles around it, growling and snorting.  Good, that would keep Glen entertained.

I got to work cutting cane.  I wanted to make teepees over the mini ponds so the water wouldn't get too hot in the sun.  My knife wasn't very sharp.  I only got three pieces cut before Glen started hollering.

"Just two more, Glen," I said.  I ran the stroller around in circles a few times, getting him to laugh, then went back to work.  I spotted an extra large stalk of cane and went over to it, hacking at the base.  It took awhile, but I finally got it sawed through.  I reached for another stalk but stopped.  It was suddenly very quiet.  I looked up.  Some of the cane dwellers had gathered to watch.  They were small, shorter than me, with greenish skin and big ears.  They wore cane leaves in their hair and around their waists.  Usually they darted through the cane so fast you could hardly see them, but today they stood still, their eyes on something behind me.  Goosebumps raised on my arms and I whirled around.  I couldn't see the stroller.  How had I gotten so far from Glen?  I went crashing through the cane and stopped dead in my tracks.  Two of the Watchers were bending over Glen.  He had fallen asleep.  They were going to take him!

"Hey!  Hey!" I called out, my voice cracking like an old donkey's.  The Watchers stood up.  Their faces were blurry and indistinct, their bodies like thick black smoke.  I rushed at them, slashing the air with my knife, yelling at the top of my lungs.  The Old man came bounding up, growling and snapping at their heels.  They back off and melted into the cane.  Glen started screaming.  I took off running, the stroller bouncing along in front of me, the Old Man loping beside us.  By the time we got home Glen had stopped crying.  I put him in his highchair and gave him a drink.  My arms and legs were like rubber.  I was shaking all over.  The weight of this terrible danger pressed down on me.  I wished I could tell Mom and Dad about it, but I knew I couldn't.  They don't see the things I do.  They would think I was making up stories and try to send me to summer camp.  I would just have to deal with it on my own.

Coming on Saturday - Part 3...

"The Dispersing Agent" (a story) Part 1

The Watchers were back again.  I saw them standing on both sides of the back lane at dusk when I went to shut the garden gate.  Silver Bell was roosting in the apple tree again.  I threw stones at her till she flew down squawking, then hurried her into the coop and shut the door.

One more chore to do.  I ran to the greenhouse and looked inside.  Two black swallowtails and three or four of the small orange and brown butterflies were fluttering against the glass.  I caught them carefully, released them and closed the door.

It was almost dark now.  I flattened myself against the barn wall and stuck my head around the corner.  The Watchers had faded into the shadows but I knew they were still there.  They were coming closer and closer every day.  I sprinted across the yard at top speed, taking the porch steps two at a time, slamming and locking the door behind me.

"Cam", my mother called, "did you turn the sprinklers off?"

"Yeah", I said.  Actually I'd forgotten the sprinklers, but no way was I going back out there in the dark with them prowling around.  The garden would flood.  Dad would throw a fit but I didn't care.

I went upstairs and got the sheets and pillow off my bed, poking my head into Glen's room to check on him.  He was asleep, his fuzzy bald head pressed up against the bars of his crib.  I propped his green rabbit where he could see it when he woke up, then hauled my gear down to the back porch.

"I'm sleeping out here tonight," I told Mom.

"Don't disappear in the morning," my dad said.  "I'll need help picking peas."

I fixed my bed on the glider and called the Old Man in, making him lie in front of the screen door.  He had a fondness for rolling on the dead mice that the barn cats left laying around and smelled pretty bad, but I wanted him there.

Next I activated my alarm system: a single strand of dental floss stretched around three sides of the porch, across the exact middle of all the screens including the screen door, with small bells hung from it every two feet.  I debated about putting a pail of water in front of the door, but decided against it.  The Old Man might knock it over and then I'd have to clean it up.  I wished I'd thought to put one outside on the top step, but it was too late now.

Later I lay in the dark, listening to my parents talk in the kitchen.

"Don't work him too hard, Tom.  He's only ten.  Let him have his summer."

"Ten is plenty old enough to learn some responsibility, Marge.  He's off by himself too much anyway.  I don't know what the heck he does all day."

I blew the hair off my forehead and rolled over on my stomach.  There was so much to do.  I could barely keep up.  But no matter what, I had to keep my family safe.  They didn't know what was out there.

Deep in the night the Old Man growled, and I shot out of bed like a thrown dart, kneeling beside the glider.  I thought I saw a shadow move beyond the screen door.  The Old Man growled again and stood up, sniffing the air.  My heart was slamming against my chest so hard I thought I might be having a heart attack.

I crept to the door that led into the kitchen and eased it open, slipping through as quietly as possible.  I felt my way down the hall to the closet and got Dad's shotgun.  The shells were on the shelf above the coat rack.  I turned on the light and loaded the gun, my fingers shaking.  I wanted to stay in the closet and shut the door, but I made myself go back to the porch.  The Old Man whined when he saw me and lay back down.

I sat in the wicker chair with the gun across my lap, listening.  Somewhere a twig snapped.  Probably a deer, I told myself, or a coon.  I thought about other things.  Swimming with my snorkel and fins, fishing with Dad, riding my bike fast over the bumps on the dirt path to the creek.  Finally I fell asleep.  I'd planned to get up before Dad did and put the gun back, but I overslept.

"What the hell's going on?  Cam, what are you doing with the gun?"

"I heard noises in the night," I said.

"What kind of noises?"

"I don't know," I said lamely.  "The Old Man growled."

Dad snorted.  "He growls at field mice, for God's sake."

He took the gun from me.  "It's loaded!  Cam, you know you're not to load this gun unless I'm with you.  My God, you could have shot yourself.  Promise me you won't ever do this again."

I didn't want to.  I might have to use it one day.  I gave a tiny bob of my head, but Dad wasn't buying it.

"Cam?"

"Okay," I said.  Lying was better than losing your family.

to be continued Wednesday....

The Ballad of Tam Lin

This old Scottish ballad dates from at least 1549.  There are several versions and 14 variants, but all of them quite similar. " The Ballad of Tam Lin" is my favorite fairy tale, told in verse.  It is impossibly romantic, and the old Scottish words and phrases give it great charm and accentuate the mystical, magical subject of the story.  And I like it that the heroine is a young girl who must rescue her true love, instead of the other way around.  She shows great courage in winning him away from the fairy queen.

Enjoy!

Tam Lin

O I forbid you, maidens all,
That wear gold in your hair,
To come or go by Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lin is there.

There's none that goes by Carterhaugh
But they leave him a wad,     
Either their rings, or green mantles,
Or else their maidenhead.

Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little above her knee,
And she has braided her yellow hair
A little above her brow,
And she's away to Carterhaugh
As fast as she can go.

When she came to Carterhaugh
Tam Lin was at the well,
And there she found his steed standing,
But he was away himself.

She had not pulled a double rose,
A rose but only two,
Till up then started young Tam Lin,
Saying "Lady, pull thou no more."

"Why pullest thou the rose, Janet,
And why breakest thou the wand?
Or why comest thou to Carterhaugh
Withoutten my command?"

"Carterhaugh, it is my own,
My daddy gave it me,
I'll come and go by Carterhaugh,
And ask no leave of thee."

Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little above her knee,
And she has braided her yellow hair
A little above her brow,
And she is to her father's house,
As fast as she can go.

Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ball,
And out then came the fair Janet,
The flower among them all.

Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess,
And out then came the fair Janet,
As green as any glass.

Out then spake an old grey knight,
Lay over the castle wall,
And says, "Alas, fair Janet, for thee,
But we'll be blamed all."

"Hold your tongue, ye old faced knight,
Some ill death may ye die!
Father my babe on whom I will,
I'll father none on thee."

Out then spake her father dear,
And he spake meek and mild,
"And ever alas, sweet Janet," he says,
"I think thou goest with child."

"If that I go with child, Father,
Myself must bear the blame,
There's never a lord about your hall,
Shall give the child a name."

"If my love were an earthly knight,
Though he's an elfin grey,
I would not give my own true-love
For any lord that ye have."

"The steed that my true love rides on
Is lighter than the wind,
With silver he is shod before,
With burning gold behind."

Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little above her knee,
And she has braided her yellow hair
A little above her brow,
And she's away to Carterhaugh
As fast as she can go.

When she came to Carterhaugh,
Tam Lin was at the well,
And there she found his steed standing,
But he was away himself.

She had not pulled a double rose,
A rose but only two,
Till up then started young Tam Lin,
Saying "Lady, pull thou no more."

"Why pullest thou the rose, Janet,
Among the groves so green,
And all to kill the bonny babe
That we got us between?"

"O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin," she says,
"For His sake that died on tree,
If ever ye were in holy chapel,
Or Christendom did see?"

"Roxbrugh he was my grandfather,
Took me with him to bide
And once it fell upon a day
That woe did me betide.

"And once it fell upon a day
A cold day and a snell,
When we were from the hunting come,
That from my horse I fell,
The Queen of Fairies she caught me,
In yon green hill to dwell."

"And pleasant is the fairy land,
But, an eerie tale to tell,
At the end of every seven years,
We pay a tithe to Hell,

I am so fair and firm of flesh,
I'm feared it be myself."

"But the night is Halloween, lady,
The morn is Hallowday,
Then win me, win me, if ye will,
For well I think ye may."

"Just at the mirk and midnight hour
The fairy folk will ride,
And they that would their true-love win,
At Miles Cross they must bide."

"But how shall I thee know, Tam Lin,
Or how my true-love know,
Among so many uncouth knights,
The like I never saw?"

"O first let pass the black, lady,
And then let pass the brown,
But quickly run to the milk-white steed,
Pull ye his rider down."

"For I'll ride on the milk-white steed,
And ride nearest the town;
Because I was an earthly knight
They give me that renown."

"My right hand will be gloved, lady,
My left hand will be bare,
Cocked up shall my bonnet be,
And combed down shall be my hair,
And there's the tokens I give thee;
No doubt I will be there."

"They'll turn me in your arms, lady,
A lizard and an adder,
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
I am your child's father."

"They'll turn me to a bear so grim,
And then a lion bold, 

But hold me fast, and fear me not,
And ye shall love your child."

"Again they'll turn me in your arms
To a red hot brand of iron,
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
I'll do you no harm."

"And last they'll turn me in your arms
Into the burning gleed,             
Then throw me into well water,
O throw me in with speed."

"And then I'll be your own true-love,
I'll turn a naked knight,
Then cover me with your green mantle,
And hide me out o sight."

Gloomy, gloomy was the night,
And eerie was the way,
As fair Jenny in her green mantle
To Miles Cross she did go.

At the mirk and midnight hour
She heard the bridles sing,
She was as glad at that
As any earthly thing.

First she let the black pass by,
And then she let the brown,
But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,
And pulled the rider down.

So well she minded what he did say,
And young Tam Lin did win,
Then covered him with her mantle green,
As happy as a bird in spring.

Out then spake the Queen of Fairies,
Out of a bush of broom,
"She that has gotten young Tam Lin
Has gotten a stately-groom."

Out then spake the Queen of Fairies,
And an angry woman was she,
"Shame betide her ill-fared face,
And an ill death may she die,
For she's taken away the bonniest knight
In all my company."

"But had I known, Tam Lin," she said,
"What now this night I see,
I would have taken out thy two grey eyes,
And put in two of tree."       

-- Translated from original version (Child 39-A) by Steffen Mallory, who apologizes for mucking up the rhyme scheme in places for the sake of clarity of meaning

Sadie

I'm in mourning.  My favorite hen, Sadie, disappeared recently without a trace.  Not a single feather remained to give me a clue what might have happened.  We've never lost a hen to a hawk and I've not seen a big hawk around our place for years.  The chickens now stay within the fenced garden so that pretty well keeps large predators out.  Why, out of all my 69 hens, was Sadie the one to go?

It may seem silly to be attached to a chicken, but Sadie was special.  I could pick her voice out of the flock immediately.  She was very smart and friendly.  When I check for eggs in the coop, some of the hens puff up and squawk at me or even peck.  Sadie would bob her head, cluck softly and stand up so I could check underneath her.  In the yard I would squat down and hold out a worm and call "Sadieee" and she would come running just as fast as her short little legs would go.  I will sorely miss her.  It's hard not knowing what happened.  She was 4 years old and could have lived a lot longer, but at least I had the pleasure of her company for those years, and the satisfaction of knowing she had a good life here.

Eating the Stars

Hidden in vegetables and fruits are many more nutrients other than vitamins and minerals, fats, carbohydrates and proteins.  You may think eating stars is impossible, but the forces of the stars are part of what make up plants.  What do you suppose puts all the fire in hot peppers, mustard, stinging nettles, garlic and onions, radishes?  The fiery planet of Mars, of course!  Every plant has a planetary ruler, every planet has qualities that can be seen in the plants it rules.  The ancients instinctively knew this, and we can reconnect with this wisdom if we have an inquiring and open mind.  Pretty much everyone can agree that the sun and moon have a huge influence on plant growth.  But the other planets in our solar system have many effects as well.  So when we eat our vegetables, we are consuming the life force that streams down to the earth from the stars.  And in case you think this is esoteric nonsense, just bite into a hot pepper!

 Flowers too bring us gifts from the cosmos.  How can anyone not see special forces at work creating a passionflower?   It's planetary ruler is Venus.  As an herb, the leaves are very calming and sedative.  As a flower essence, passionflower also brings calm and peace to our emotions.

Eating is, or should be, a cosmic experience, a conversation with the whole earth and cosmos.  The more naturally a plant is grown, the more of these nourishing, life enriching forces it contains and bestows upon us.  So eat organic, and eat natural, real foods!

Stromatolites and Chert

I am taking a break from artwork these days for various reasons and have turned my attention to rocks.  I have become a Rock Hound!  I've always loved rocks and minerals along with plants and animals.  Since plants are mostly slumbering this time of year and the birds are quiet (except for the chickens), it seemed like the right time to explore the mineral world.  I want to experiment with Gem Elixirs, made by soaking various crystals and stones in distilled water in the sunlight, then preserving them with brandy and storing in dark bottles.  These are vibrational remedies, similar to flower essences or homeopathic medicines.  And from my research, they can have pretty profound impacts on our mental, emotional, spiritual and physical well being.

One type of rock that excites me is the Stromatolite.  I got the one pictured above from a small local rock shop.  Stromatolites are the fossilized remains of ancient colonies of cyanobacteria which lived in shallow water and used water, carbon dioxide and sunlight to create their food.  They excreted calcium carbonate which formed layer upon layer of stone with bacterial remains sandwiched between them.  Many of these stones are up to 3.5 billion years old!!  Just think of it!  The cyanobacteria were largely responsible for increasing oxygen in the primeval earth's atmosphere through photosynthesis, thus allowing other forms of life to develop.  Bacteria were the only form of life on earth for the first 2 billion years that life existed on earth.  And as a matter of fact, we humans consist of bacterial colonies that outnumber our human cells ten to one.  Such important organisms, yet we mostly don't even think about them.

In a little book I have called "Gem Waters" by Michael Geinger and Joachim Goebel, stromatolites are listed as a healing stone that, when prepared in an elixir or gem water, cleanses the connective tissues and the intestines, improves intestinal flora, encourages metabolism and elimination, dissolves abdominal tensions.  On higher levels, this elixir helps us adapt to change and aids our creative power.  It makes sense to me that these oldest forms of life might contain powerful blueprints, or vibrations that could stimulate our digestive systems.  And the thought of making a remedy with something that is 3.5 billion years old blows my mind.  Talk about getting down to basics - these tiny creatures had digestion down pat. 

 When stromatolites are cut and polished, they make beautiful pieces suitable for jewelry with swirling streaks of brown and black, or sometimes other colors.  There are modern forms of stromatolites still found around the world, but not as numerous as in the far distant past.

So I am preparing to make a stromatolite gem elixir and will pass along what I learn from it.

Pink Ozark Chert

Another stone I'm working with is our common Ozark pink chert.  Chert is pretty much the same as flint, though flint is usually dark.  According to "Gem Elixirs and Vibrational Healing" by Gurudas, flint's prime function as an elixir is tissue regeneration of the entire endocrine system.  As a by-product of this it stimulates tissue regeneration throughout the entire system and aids assimilation of all nutrients.  I figure that pink chert ought to be particularly effective since the color pink relates to regeneration.  It's exciting and liberating to think that powerful medicines can be developed from the stones beneath our feet.  Think what mysteries are contained in the natural world!  

About Fairies

I got this unfinished picture out today and am determined to get it painted.  It has truly become it's name: The Forgotten Garden.  But the cooler weather has gotten me inspired to paint again.  And while I am pondering what color palette to use, I'm also pondering other things.

What is a fairy?  There are probably as many definitions as there are people, but two different viewpoints come to mind.  One is that fairies are completely benign, tiny beings wearing fluffy pink dresses and waving magic wands over children as they sleep.  The other, an ancient belief dating back many ages, is that fairies are an old race of non-Christian beings possessed of super-human powers, mischievous at best and often downright evil.  They steal children, dry up the cows' milk, lead humans into decadence and vice, and must be placated with bowls of milk left on the stoop.

I think both concepts do the fairies a big disservice.  They have been caught in a darkening world that hovers between hardened materialism and old superstition, and I keep struggling to understand how they, and Mother Nature as a whole, became so misunderstood and separated from both science and religion.  On the religious side, it's maybe because when Christianity arose, the old Pagan wisdom was rejected, giving way to new impulses.  So the pendulum swung from worshiping nature to fearing and shunning it.  It's time for some fresh new perspectives in keeping with the new age.

I do believe there are invisible presences in nature, in fact, I've communicated with many of them while making flower essences over the years, and have learned a tremendous amount.  And I believe that some of these presences are malevolent.  But does that mean we should shun them, or should we try to understand them?  With understanding, fear, confusion and superstition dissipate, and a person feels strengthened to meet evil and adversity.  Granted, it's not easy to communicate with invisible beings, but it is possible, and very rewarding.  This is a topic left for another day!

We humans are the bridge between nature and the cosmos, between earth and spirit.  In us resides the extremely important task of enlivening science and updating religion to include the fresh new insight and growth we are now capable of.

My fairies are a personification of nature: fragile, beautiful or ugly as the case may be, keepers of much wisdom that encompasses the entire cosmos: stars, planets, angels, elements, earth, water, fire, air, and all the living, intelligent beings that bring order to our world.  And may a little of their spirit shine on you.