It's Just Like Flipping A Quarter

 

 
            Milly had something on her mind. She usually did. She sat at her desk at the Milltown paper, tapping her pen on its surface. She was waiting for Maeve to check in for a morning chat at the window. The window was open even though it was winter and the air was pretty chill out there.
            Some guy in Arlington had written her at the paper about fairies, of all things. She thought he might be pulling her leg and had back-burnered that inquiry for the moment.
            She wanted to talk to Ralph about a YouTube program she had watched the night before. The guy had a theory about trees. These were trees which were turned upside down and jammed back into the earth at various places around the area. Milly knew that the man to ask was right out Highway 20. “Living in the woods, just like the song says,” she thought.
            Maeve hit the window frame with one of her theatrical thumps just as Milly was hearing the Amboy Dukes singing away in her memory.
            “Good morning, Milly,” said Maeve, tidying her feathers.
            “Come, in. Good morning. It’s getting cold in here,” said Millicent Price, newspaper columnist.
            Maeve obliged and Milly slammed the window shut. Maeve lighted on her desk where she could see the computer screen.
            “Look at this,” said Milly, who then turned on the video about the trees so that Maeve could get a preview of it. “I need to talk to Ralph. Would you set something up with him for tomorrow? I can drive out there. We haven’t had a lot of snow yet. I’ll bring lunch.
            “Let’s say noon, unless he can’t make it,” she said, knowing he probably could. “You can give me the word tomorrow morning. OK?”
            “OK,” said Maeve and Milly opened the window briefly so that she could take off.
            Therefore, after getting Ralph’s answer, Millicent went to the best local deli and bought a stack of corned beef sandwiches on rye with mustard and mayo. They had a display of chocolate bars, so she got half a dozen of those too.
            Thus prepared for the visit, she headed up the freeway to Arlington, took the 530 exit and so forth. There was a little snow on the sides of the highway, not much. If it didn’t start snowing soon, it was going to be dry downhill this summer for sure.
            When she parked, Ralph himself and Maeve, were waiting for her just inside the tree line. She had packed the sandwiches and chocolate in a big canvas bag, because she thought Ramona could use a canvas bag.
            She slung the bag on her shoulder and said, “Hey, Ralph! It’s been a minute hasn’t it?”
            “Anytime is a good time, Milly,” said Ralph and the three of them vanished from the sight of anyone passing, into the forest proper.
            Down at the fire, Ramona and Cherry were waiting.
            “I brought lunch, Ramona,” said Milly. “Greetings!”
            “It’s good to see you, Milly. Come and sit by the fire,” said Ramona.
            Ralph really liked the sandwich, so he had a second. Ramona thought it was great too. “Such exotic flavors!” she said. Cherry had hers cut in strips because it was a rather large sandwich. Blue had one too. Even Bob and Berry had a sandwich each, to be polite to the guest.
             Maeve liked hers so well that she had nothing to say. The chocolate was shared out, and Ramona made a pot of her cowboy coffee on the fire.
            While Milly was still finishing her sandwich, she said to Ralph, “I think you know what I was wondering about, don’t you?”
            “You saw a video by a guy who thinks he knows why trees get stuck upside down in the ground. What was his theory?” said Ralph. “I can’t wait!”
            “In the cold light of day, it sounds pretty far-fetched. In short, he thinks they are grub farms. He believes that the Forest Men crave grubs so much that they must be creating the conditions for the growth of more and more grubs, Ralph. In a nutshell, “ said Milly.
            Ralph laughed until he got lightheaded and had to catch his breath for a minute.
            Ramona smiled. “Some of us do eat grubs, but not like that!” she said.
            “That was pretty funny. I loved it. Poor guy doesn’t have a clue,” said Ralph.
            “OK, there are three main reasons for jamming a tree back into the ground upside down, Milly. The first reason a guy might shove a tree in the ground is to mark his area of influence. We don’t have boundaries, or own land, but we sure do have areas kind of like a target. Right at the tree is whoever central! Others respect these markers!
            “Oh, you know, it’s a thing young guys do to show off and prove how tough they are. A good toss that lands well is much admired among the young guys and the young girls too, I might add. Which relates to the third reason! This is probably the most important reason,” said Ralph.
            “Hang on, I’m writing,” said Milly, working away with pad and pen. “OK, go on.”
            “Sometimes a girl can’t make up her mind. Two young guys seek her hand in marriage, and a decision must be made. Like maybe, tossing a coin to let the Universe decide. Well, in this case the girl would promise to marry whichever fellow makes the best job of landing a tree upside down. It’s all about style, and plain success. The decision is final and no one may complain about the results. The contest is done in front of witnesses so it’s for sure. That’s about it,” said Ralph. “I can’t get over the grub farm,” he said, giggling again.
            “Ah, Hugh’s a nice guy. We like him,” said Ralph.
            “You’ve seen the video?” said Millicent.
            “No. We know Hugh, though,” said Ralph. “He means well, maybe some day I’ll tell him what gives.”
            “I gotta admit, that makes perfectly good sense,” said Milly.
            “Now I have a question for you, Ramona,” she continued. “So, did Ralph ever toss a tree for you?”
            “Well, no. I just went swimming one night in the moonlight. I had already made up my mind. No tree tossing needed!” said Ramona. “And in his wisdom, he took the clue! And now, here we all are!”
            “Absolutely!” said Millicent, with a grin. “Hey, Ramona I thought you might like a big canvas bag. It’s for you.”
            “I could use a nice strong bag,” agreed Ramona happily. “Thanks!”
            “I’m going to tootle on home now, and see what Colin’s up to,” said Milly.
            So, they said their goodbyes with promises to meet again soon.
            “Bring Colin some time,” said Ralph.
            “I will,” said Milly. Maeve followed her to the big green Escalade, just to make sure she got going OK, then flew back to the family by the fire.

🔥

The Very Rude Awakening

 

            When Ribber Gof came to, he was three bags deep in the local landfill. He flexed those shovel-like hands of his and then cracked his knuckles thoughtfully. His exquisitely attuned nasal passages detected only the homely detritus of human daily life.
            “Bah!” said Ribber and he set to work digging out.
            The sun had gone down. It was dark. Ribber was pretty chirpy about that because he didn’t want to face down any feathery raptors, i.e. gulls.

            The big truck had hauled Ribber’s quiescent form to the Northwest County landfill in Arlington. As dumps go, it was up-to-date, quite spiffy, but still. A scent hung in the air, not the scent of gold. There was a ringing in his ears.
            He had been thwarted. It would not stand! “No, way!” gurbled the wee manikin.
            Though smelly and somewhat abraded here and there, he began running like Sonic the Hedgehog right back up Highway 530, heading for SR20 and Ranger Rick’s National Forest camp.
            As he ran, a marvelous thing happened. The smell blew off. His braid tidied itself, and his small wounds healed. He felt good. Sometimes its good to be Fae, sometimes it isn’t.
            Even in those early hours a few cars passed him. Drivers wondered if they were getting too sleepy or something. By the time they had passed the driver couldn’t really insist that they had seen a small form running along the pavement. It seemed as if the little person wore plaid, had a long silver braid, and maybe short leather trousers, and bare feet. It was too crazy to believe. Someone wrote it up, and sent the letter to that lady reporter at the Milltown paper, just for a laugh. He asked her if she knew anything about it, since she wrote about other mythic creatures. It should be stated that she actually had heard of such creatures, but wasn’t sure there was much to be said on the subject. “Maybe the less said, the better,” she thought.
            When he got up SR20 near the wide spot on the highway, he began smelling Ranger Rick’s Pesos again. He just had to skirt around the forbidden zone, the heart of the Great Forest.
Closer and closer. He felt great, full of confidence and expectation. Morning was coming on. The sky was lightening. Forest noises rose up. A curious wind blew through.
            But someone was up early. Someone who was always watching. A great black creature of the upper air saw the little form zipping along. She dropped down lower to get a better look.
            “Unbelievable, Evermore!” she muttered to herself.
            You can surely see how this is going.
            Maeve caught him up by the braid and rose back up into the air. On mighty wingbeats she set out to find Ralph. She flew right into the Home Clearing with Ribber hollering and begging for mercy.
            “Let me down,” he screamed. “Don’t take me to that hairy monster!”
            He made so much noise that he woke Ramona and then Ralph, himself.
            “Where’d you get that, Maeve,” said Ramona, eyebrows up in disbelief.
            “Bring it here,” said Ralph.
            She did, and Ralph grabbed Ribber by his big bare feet.
            “Tell me your name!” demanded Ralph.
            “I won’t,” squirmed Ribber.
            “You don’t want me to say it, for I can!” said Ralph. “If I say it all your powers will be gone. Say it, for your own sake, R…”
            “Ribber Gof, I’m Ribber Gof! Let me go, I’ll bring you gold!” sang the little twister.
            “Do you try to buy me off? Oh for shame, Plaidie. A bit of metal? What’s gold to me?” roared Ralph.
            Ralph held him like a captured rabbit, upside down.
            “The way I see it, Ribber, is you have a choice. You can have me sing the love of gold out of you, and go in peace. Or you can stay here forever in the Great Forest and serve me, but live!” laughed Ralph, seeing the potential humor in his own suggestion.
            “Oh, sing, Monster. Sing it,” shouted Ribber. “Don’t make me stay here and serve you! Oh, sir, not that!”
            And so it was that Ralph sang a song called What’s Gold To Me Anyhow? It was a fearsome song, and it cured Ribber of his greed and thievishness.
            Ralph set him down on the forest floor and watched him run away to the boulder by the river which is the Mouth of the Mountain. There he entered the underground forever.
            “Well, Baby, what a rude awakening,” said Ramona. Then she started building up her fire for the morning.

🍀

A Quick Trip To Barlow Pass

 

            Barlow pass is where they gate the Mountain Loop Highway for the winter, so it was a case of driving just about to the gate. It's hard to turn around right at the gate.

            Since we didn't have much time, this road was a quick way to get up into some Squatchie territory. It didn't disappoint. It looked perfectly likely. I do believe I could sense his presence!

            It was a very bright winter day, with the sun low in the sky. A person can get used to dim light, and then, pow!, there is the sun.

            We drove east out of town, through Lake Stevens, onto Highway 9, then turned east again on 92 heading to Granite Falls, which doesn't rate a dot on that map. 

            In Granite Falls, we got coffee from a nice Goth chick who was amused when I said we were looking for Sasquatch. She told us about something called Nightcrawlers in Fresno, CA. Ewww!

            We took the left turn then onto the rather famously glamorous Mountain Loop Highway. Though, of course you can't get through this time of year. Then we turned around and came home.

        Some of Navigator's photos follow.

Gloomy highway..

Back east of Marysville, coming home, the flood abides!

            A couple of my photos follow.

            There was snow up there, not a whole bunch, but it was rather cold. There was black ice in the shadows, and frost in other spots. Wheeee! I don't mind.

            That's about it!

💚

A Lost Story

 

Lynnwood, WA.

            You know how sometimes you can’t get away from history, how things follow you to a new continent even, and there persist? This is one of those stories.
            Helga Olafson was a five-year old child when her parents and she migrated to the United States. They were tired of the strictures of village life in Norway where a person’s social status was set in stone and generations old. Her father, Peter, had heard that in America a man could be anything he wanted to be, based only on his own efforts. He wanted that.
            So, Peter and Elsa Olafson sold his dad’s farm after his death, and the two cows and the horse, took all the money and bought tickets on a ship heading to the east coast of the country. But they didn’t stay there, or move to any of the Norwegian communities in the Great Lakes area. They took the train to Seattle, Washington.
            It had been a long, tiring trip. But Pete and Helga knew a family named Wiprud, people from home, who lived in a small village called Bothell, also in Washington state. There were many other Norwegians there, so Helga grew up among her own kind, but also others, and even the exotic American Indians. Pete got a job with the Post Office, driving the mail around outside of town in a specialized Ford truck. He made fair money and bought a place outside of Bothell.
            So, Helga grew up as American as she could be while still feeling Norski too.
            Helga was a plain looking girl, with blue eyes, and straight brown hair.
            Her parents had married rather old, as they did in Europe sometimes, so that when Helga was 30 years old and still living in the family home, a tiny two bedroom wood frame building next to a local stump farm, it came to pass that her parents became elderly and then in the course of time both passed on. Helga Olafson lived alone.
            Now, like all good Norwegian ladies, Helga was a picker of wild berries. So, one day late in summer when the wild black berries were ripe, on their tangled low growing vines, Helga headed out to the stump farm, bucket in hand and sun hat on her head. A modest figure in blue jeans and a man’s shirt with leather boots on her feet. She was utterly alone.
            There were many berries that year, so she had nearly filled her bucket, thinking thoughts of jam for the winter, and perhaps a pie for the next few days when she noticed a strange thing. First there was the sound. A light electric buzzing where no buzzing should be. She stood up straight from her picking and put her hands on her hips, looking in all directions.
            Then she saw it.
            It was some kind of machine. Maybe fifty feet over the tops of the old stumps it hung suspended in the air. The brilliant late summer sunshine reflected off of its metallic surface. It was shaped rather like a fat pie, speaking of pies, with a bowl capped over its top surface.
            Well, as you can imagine, this was a great surprise to Helga. In fact, she didn’t know much about aircraft at all.
            Next moment the buzzing stopped, the machine tilted, slipped out of the air, struck a glancing blow to a huge ten foot tall cedar stump, and flopped onto the berry vines on the ground. There is sat, slightly canted, and silent.
            Helga didn’t run and hide. Not Helga, that sensible girl. She put her bucket of berries in a safe level spot and went to examine this oddity.
            Taking big experienced steps, she’d been here before, she approached the strange crashed object. It was bigger than she had thought, maybe fifty feet in diameter and ten feet top to bottom all taken together. As she watched, a pie shaped section of the bowl shaped top slid around the bowl revealing an opening.
            Out of the opening stepped a young fellow, not a kid anymore, but young. He had clear bright blue eyes, straight shoulder length brown hair, and a snubby nose. He was no beauty. He wore a strange snug overall of some sort of shiny material. All over the surface little rainbows glinted in the sunlight.
            “Hello!” said Helga, in English.
            “Hallo! God dag,” said the stranger in perfect Norwegian.
            “Why do you speak Norwegian?” said Helga. “Are you from Norway?”
            “No, Helga. It’s pretty easy to pick up languages if you know how. I got it from your mind. I’m from another planet,” said the stranger.
            Helga, looked at him, weighing a number of ideas.
            “I might believe you, though it’s a stretch,” she said. “What’s your name. I can’t read your mind. You’ll have to tell me.”
            “Brovel. Well, that’s the closest I can get it to something you can say. I’m not supposed to be here, and they aren’t going to come and rescue me. My ship is dead. I’m injured and I’m hungry,” said Brovel. He sat there on the outer edge of his fallen ship.
            “That will never do around here. We better give you a regular name. How about Lars Erickson?” said Helga.
            “It’s outlandish to me, but I can be Lars Erickson if I have to,” said the newly minted Lars.
            “Can you walk?” said Helga.
            “Yes, my left arm is broken above the elbow, so I can still walk,” said Lars.
            Helga, followed by Lars, picked her way over to her bucket of blackberries and the path.
            “My house is just beyond this field,” she said.
            Lars laughed when he saw her little wood frame house. Helga shot him a look, but knew when to talk and when not to.
            Once inside the house he seemed delighted and touched by how everything was so simple and manual. There were no gadgets there. It was as normal as a house in the backwoods of Washington could be in the 1940s.
            “You can’t wear that around here. Someone would think you fell off of the circus truck, Lars. You’re about the same size as my father. His clothing is still here. You better put on some of his clothing,” said Helga.

            Before getting dressed in her father's clothes, Lars pulled his overall down to his waist allowing Helga to splint the break with a section of an oak ruler and a long strip of cloth.
            She had to instruct him about buttons and zippers and boxer shorts. She looked out of the window while he struggled into the underwear and the pants. She helped him button the shirt because of his broken arm. He had to be told to tuck the shirt into the pants. Then there was the belt and then there were the socks and the shoes. By the time he was dressed he was very tired, but still hungry.
            Helga made him a ham sandwich on rye with mustard and mayo. She warmed up the morning’s coffee and gave him a cup of that with cream because she thought he looked a little thin. Lars thought the food was odd, but in some ways better than the food at home. He ate with appetite, quite happily.
            She got him some aspirin, because that’s all she had for pain, and put him to bed in her own bed. She figured she would sleep in her parent’s room.
            In the morning, she was sitting silently at the kitchen table, waiting. When he came out of her room awkwardly redressed in her father’s clothing it was her turn to laugh.
            “Tomorrow I have to go work at the school, Lars. But not today,” said Helga.
            She cooked eggs, and toast, and made fresh coffee.
            He was still favoring his arm, but it wasn’t displaced, so it seemed to both of them that it would heal on its own in a few weeks.
            Sitting across the small wooden table from him, she was thinking about cutting his hair and wondered if he would object. He looked up to see her studying him.
            “You may cut my hair, Helga,” said Lars.
            “That will make life easier for you. On our planet, men keep their hair short,” said Hega.
            “You know, I will never leave you,” said Lars Erickson.
            “I hope not,” said Helga.
            “I love you,” said Lars.
            And she believed him.
            His broken ship lay in the stump farm undiscovered until it was covered by berry vines. No one ever found it there. And his people never came for him.

🤍

A Cautionary Tale Regarding Feigning

 

 

            It is said that, among other things, the Fae can smell gold, and desire it above all things, beside the indulgence in trickery.
            Now, it can be debated as to whether those local grimkins, those wopnots, those pot scrapers, the indigenous Plaidies are indeed members of the tribes of Fae. But if function provides definition, well there you go! As one does, so one is!
            Trickery and greed will both be dealt with here.
            It happened one day in the spring of this very year that a Plaidie somewhat more intellectual than his fellow set to devising a plan. He smelled gold and he knew where it was. It was near unto the Great Forest, but not actually in it. He realized that Ralph’s song held no sway at the Ranger Station, ruled as it was by Ranger Rick. It should be a simple matter to surface somewhere on the grounds, yet to be determined, and so to gain access to Rick’s small hoard of Mexican Pesos. A very small hoard indeed. Three shining, beautiful coins in their display case hung on Rick’s office wall.
            This Plaidie, Ribber Gof, by name, was a young fellow, and as is often the case, more clever than wise.
            Ribber sniffed and snuffed, he dug new tunnels with his shovel-like hands. He followed the scent of gold at last to the roots of a dying maple tree. It was rotted in its heart which was indeed hollow. “Bingo!” thought Ribber, and up into the hollow heart of the old maple tree he wriggled and grunted, tearing hunks of rotted heart wood out of his way and dropping them down where he had started from. At last Ribber exited the dying maple through an open knothole. He breathed the fresh air of the upper world.
            It was the chilly crack of a spring dawn, before sunup, when he popped out into the tree line near the campground, in fact, quite near to where Hannah Tucker had just set up housekeeping in the small mobile home attached to the campground.
            He smelled coffee, and gagged. By that bare fact you know that he can’t be right.
            Hannah’s door popped open suddenly.
            Ribber went flat on the asphalt, feigning dead matter. A doll, apparently.
            The light was poor, so he fooled Hannah. She, thinking him some camper’s child’s poppet, carried him down to the dumpster, and actually dumped him therein.
            “Nearer my gold, to thee,” he might have thought, were he a wit.
            He crawled up out of the dumpster, feeling the effects of being perilously near Ralph’s personal domain and somewhat besmeared. He crouched and waited. He had a simple plan. He knew someone was going to open that office door eventually. He would zap in behind their heels and hide. How he would get his wicked little paws on the gold and secrete it out of the building would depend on conditions and happenstance.
            Just then Ranger Rick drove in and parked in his spot right beside the dumpster. While he was getting himself out of the driver’s seat and locking up the cab, Ribber went into his abandoned doll act again. He lay there as if tossed aside by some child, limp and inert.
            Rick started when he saw Ribber.
            “Man alive, they make some ugly dolls these days!” he said aloud into the morning air.
            Then he threw Ribber Gof right back into the dumpster.
            As fate would have it, this very morning was garbage day at the Ranger Station. Oh, let’s give this camp area a name, shall we? Let it be known as Maple Heart Camp, somewhere in the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest.
            “Oh,” said Rick. He jumped back in his truck, and backed out of the way of the big garbage truck so that it could pick up the dumpster, and you know the rest. Into the heart of the garbage truck went Ribber and that week’s trash.
            Oh, Ribber, poor Ribber. Had he at last achieved that which he had feigned?
            Quite still, he lay, dressed in his finest wee plaid coat. Those shovel-like hands lay on his little tummy, his immoderately large bare feet dangled down amongst the detritus of the campground. His long braid lay stretched out behind him. Were his icy blue eyes closed forever?
            As always, with Plaidies, it’s all a matter for conjecture and debate, but a sensible course would be to remain dubious, for among those susceptible, the scent of gold is compelling indeed!  

🍁

Tis Hard To Pick My Favorite Bubble

 But, here's a good one.

A compound bubble, aloft,
over Milltown, WA.
She shot it from the top of the parking barn!

One day last summer.

🤍

I pray that your hearts should be,

as light as a summer bubble.

The Prince of The Forest and His Bride

 

            It was a Firekeeper’s tale, told all through the generations of those who came after. It was told around many a fire and in many a home nest. If a child was a girl, the Mother would stress Leely’s part, and if the child should be a boy, she would make much of Twigg’s greatness of spirit and his Love.
            For this was a tale of a great Love which had surmounted all obstacles.
            Now, as it was told, Twigg was the son of the great Forest King, Ralph. And that when he was still but a child he met a human girl, also a child, in a meadow because she desired to know the Forest People and came with gifts to a grand and ancient stump in a meadow. There, they struck up a lasting friendship, a friendship that blossomed as time crept onward through the next years.
            And it was said also, that Twigg’s Mother was a great and wise Firekeeper, who kept much knowledge in her heart like a living treasure.
            Ramona looked upon this girl child and saw that there was more in her than what appeared on her surface. For Marge, as the girl was known, was no beauty, and yet, there was something mysterious and profound in her.
            Time passed and Twigg began to know that he loved Marge with all of his heart, and yet she was blind to that love. She loved him dearly too, but she thought of him as a brother.
            In the course of those days, Twigg desired to make a gift for Marge, so he wove for her a beautiful Basket of Promise, and placed in it some stones, which bespoke eternity.
            Ramona waited and consulted with the Maker of Heaven and Earth and all the Forests of Earth, and when the time was ripe, she took Marge by her hand into the river, and gave her a new birth, a river birth and named her Leely. The name in Saslingua means “little one.”
            Ramona saw that Leely was not one thing or another, but two, for her grandmother had been such as she, herself, was. This grandmother, this Forest Woman had married a man of the land who had worked as a woodcutter.
            At just the right time the Maker of Heaven and Earth called a wedding party together without those called knowing the nature of the calling, only that they must go to where King Ralph and his family and his beasts lived together in the Great Forest.
            Urgently, they gathered. Leely herself left her human mother’s home for she heard the calling too! Then her mother woke and also heard the call and made her way to the wedding party.
            There the Firekeeper would pause. She wanted to make sure her child listened carefully. Or maybe she gave the girl or boy a small sweet snack, so that they would remember the taste and the tale together. It is the way of Mothers.
            Now, it happened, she would go on, that there was a king of a far world who was a great friend of King Ralph’s, for they were distantly related from a time when both their worlds were very new. This king, Mak, for that was his name, was called to the wedding also, and he brought with him from his world a most precious wedding gift, the blue Oro. It was a mysterious round gem of blue light filled with many hidden gifts.
            King Mak arrived at King Ralph’s home in a
silver ship from the world of stars and far planets. He met his friend Ralph at the river and together they made their way to the wedding party.
            When all was in readiness and all the guests were gathered, Leely’s eyes were opened and she entered into a greater Love with her beloved Twigg. The Basket of Promise had held this secret for her.
            Then, before the guests and the Maker, King Ralph caused Twigg and Leely to pronounce their wedding vows to each other. And so, they were married! And the rejoicing in that company was great and there were many tears among them all. For as we know, there are always happy tears at a great wedding.
            Many times a Father would gather to his family and listen to the old tale again, for it is good to contemplate a great Love, and it is also true that the overcoming of obstacles is a manly virtue and worthy of celebrating.
            The Mother would resume her tale then.
            As an aside, to the Mothers, Ramona and Enid, King Mak who was a healer and a wise man with hidden knowledge, explained that Leely was barren, but that a Seed would be given to her and Twigg.
            When the moment was right, King Mak presented the wedding gift to Twigg and Leely, explaining some of its properties. And with it came an invitation to come with him to his kingdom and live at his Palace for half a year.
            His gifts were accepted gratefully and the young couple entered King Mak’s silver ship together with him and his sons.
            And so it was that in the merest twinkling of an eye, they arrived at King Mak’s planet, coming to rest in the garden of his palace.
            What a world this was! The Mother would expound on it. The air was sweet and fresh. Mountains rose into the sky on the far horizon. Flowers such as never seen on Earth filled the garden in multi-hued splendor, and their scent was both intoxicating and enlightening.
            A merry stream of water trickled through the garden singing in an exotic language. There were talking birds and small animals speaking poetry at times in softly muted voices.
            The beauty of King Mak’s marble house was almost beyond describing. It rose many stories tall and was carved with many flowers and birds and beasts of the land.
            After being ushered inside, Prince Twigg, for prince he was, was given a blue silk ribbon to wear over his shoulder and around his chest as a sign of his position. Leely was given gowns to wear of many colors and fabrics, made by the Queen’s own seamstresses.
            Queen Reva met them and was most charming. Twigg and Leely had lunch with Mak and Reva and all four sons. There was much joy and laughter, and all was happiness.
            Prince Twigg and his bride Leely were appointed a beautiful chamber in a tower of the palace in which to rest from their exciting and busy day. There they would live for half a year.
            If her child was still attending well to the tale, the Firekeeper would go on. Otherwise she would continue on another day.
            She would tell the little one that the next day Prince Twigg and Leely were presented to the people. A golden trumpet was played by one of the palace musicians, a signal for the people of the city to gather around the palace. And they did gather. A great throng of many men and women and their children waited to meet the newcomers.
            The Mother would use her imagination to picture out the presentation of the Prince and his bride to the people of the city, and how warmly they were welcomed into their midst. She might say that children brought them flowers, and that men and women welcomed them personally and told them their names.
            In the course of the half year Twigg grew in majesty and wisdom. Leely grew more beautiful and gracious every day. Mak sometimes called Twigg Ralphson. Many of the people called him by this new name too.
            They met and discussed much with the wisemen and Doctors of Philosophy of Mak’s kingdom, learning about the structure of the Universe, science and literature. They learned names of the Maker from other worlds, and of the many types of Man.
            One day Mak, knowing their desire for a child of their own, brought Leely and Twigg a Star Seed. The Star Seed grew into a child in time. The child was a gift of the Maker’s, an angelic spirit, a boy, who possessed the gift of transformation. He was a Forest Child and a human, and much more, for he was the compound expression of their unbounded Love. Twigg named him Koka, or in English, Star.
            The Mother would tell her child that Twigg and Leely’s joy overflowed, for they had wanted a child to share in their Love and to give it expression. Then she would stress her joy for the gift of her own child.
            Back on Earth, the story went, and it was a true story, which everyone knew, King Ralph and his dear friend Ooog, a maker in his own right, set to work building a home for Twigg and Leely and Koka. Yes, at home Ralph and Ramona knew of Koka and waited to see him.
            The house was like the one Twigg had thought to build but much grander. It was framed by living saplings which would grow in time. Berry vines and wild roses were added to the exterior walls, so that it seemed to be living part of the forest, and so it was. Ooog built a floor inside and clever compartments and even beds. He made a chimney and installed a small woodstove for Leely.
            When all was in readiness, and the summer breezes blew in the Great Forest and the half year was over, Mak’s silver ship came to rest in the meadow beside the Living House. Ralph and Ramona and Cherry, with Blue and Bob and Berry were gathered there to greet them and welcome them home.
            At that point the Mother would describe the reunion and Ralph and Ramona’s meeting with Koka, who loved them on sight. A few angelic lights attended the meeting too! It was rather wonderful.
            Then the wise Firekeeper would say to her child, “So, that’s the way the Star Child Koka came to live in the Living House in the Great Forest with Twigg and Leely, and his grandparents, Ralph and Ramona, and his aunt Cherry, and the animals too.
            “And, Dear Child, we may go visit the Living House one day if you like, and you will know that the story is all true, for it still stands where it was planted!”

🌟