How Long Is Evermore?

 

Photo by Steve Cossey.

            Ralph had taken a long walk along the river, because fishing is always on his list!
            It’s hard going, walking over or around all those big rocks that grow in the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. Some are like bushel basket sized or even bigger. Some of them are just the right size to roll an ankle. But he does that floaty Sasquatch walk sometimes when the road is rough.
            So, that’s the setting. You can see Ralph there on the riverbank. He’s big, it's hard to keep in mind how big. He’s about 9 feet tall and must weight 700 pounds. And yet, his affect is diffident, scholarly, almost. He doesn’t bull his way through the world. He prefers rest and reflection, and dinner.
            His hair is almost black, you know, that super deep brown. Now days he has grey streaks on either side of his face clear down into his chest. It looks very distinguished.
            The sun is beginning its descent into night. The light illuminating Ralph and the river is low and slanted. He’s thinking it’s time to head home.
            Maeve, ever mindful of his whereabouts, if she can manage it, and she usually can, has spotted him from her vantage three or four hundred feet in the air. She has very good eyesight.
            Content, then, the great black bird drifts down out of the sky to land on Ralph’s left shoulder. She descends in those raven spirals they do, just because they want to.
            “Oh, hi Birdie Girl,” said Ralph, winking in her general direction as he kept walking. “What have you been up to all day?”
            “Oh, hunting, in a small way, and then hunting in a big way, Ralph! I know we’re supposed to be carrion eaters, but I’m spoiled now. Mice, you know, fresh mice, stuff like that. Then I came looking for you,” Maeve rattled that out in her odd hollow sounding voice.
            “Hunting huh, I’ve never thought of you as a huntress,” said Ralph. “How long have I known you? You seem sort of ubiquitous, eternal, always around.”
            “You don’t remember?” She regarded him sharply with a bright black eye.
            “I don’t remember you on my shoulder before Ramona found me, Maeve.” Ralph giggled.
            “When my Nest Builder still lived, we spent our
 days with the wolves, Ralph. I told you about that. But when he was lost, in my grief, I left the wolves. It took both of us to work with them anyway.
            “My Dear would soar over the forest and fields until he spotted deer or whatever, then he would come tell the lord of the wolves, himself, where this prey was located. Then the wolves could be assured of a good hunt.
            “We would watch over the young wolves as the elders in the pack completed their business. We all ate together. Wolves and ravens, helping and sharing.”
            “After I left the wolves, I noticed Ramona doing interesting stuff by her fire. I hung around the fire for a while. Then I decided to keep an eye on you, just like we had for the wolves, you know?” Maeve said earnestly. “I could tell you needed me, Ralph!”
            “Makes sense, Maeve. Almost like there was a Designer above all things, huh,” said Ralph.
            “Hey, if it's Ramona’s cooking that spoiled you, I think I’m spoiled too! I used to eat whatever I could grab out of the water or on the land raw. I think I still could, but I really prefer what she does back at the fire circle!”
            “Evermore!” said Maeve. She bowed and spread her wings for emphasis.
            “Evermore!” said Ralph. He’d never said it before, but he found it rather satisfying. No wonder Maeve liked it so much! “How about forevermore? Nah, evermore is better,” said Ralph
            “Hey, Black Leg, why don’t you go tell Ramona I’m almost home!”
            “You got it,” she said, and lifted off and hung suspended for a second, like the creature of air and wind and sun and forest that she was. Then she shot off on powerful wingbeats, to bring word to the Firekeeper at home.

🖤