Out Where The West Begins

 

        

            I have a little confession to make. That is, though almost all of my life was spent in the cloudy cool state of Washington on the rainy, sometimes, west side, I never felt that it was my true home.
            This may be, and probably is, because while her children were young and she wasn’t working outside the home, my mother used to take us to spend the summer break down to Idaho to stay with her parents on their farm in Wendell.

            Her excitement to be going home was infectious. We caught it, or at least I know I did. We often rode the train there. Hence, the love of trains too. Pulling into the Gooding station was so wonderful. There her father, in his farmer’s overalls would pick us up and we would make the short drive to the farm outside of the very small town of Wendell.
            What followed were endless weeks of relative freedom. My grandparent’s first grandchild was me! They prized me very highly. That’s really something, to be not only loved, but prized.
            I remember every inch of that old farm. It wasn’t very big, maybe 40 acres. My grandmother milked cows and grandfather raised beans and alfalfa, but also he raised things for their seeds, such as carrot seed. You don’t need a huge lot of acreage to raise carrot seed!

When they were very young.

            It was a pretty relaxed operation.
            To get to the subject I have in mind, and back on track, one of the things they liked to do was to gather whichever relatives were handy and have me perform. I remember singing Shenandoah for the assembled family. I believe I did America too. They compared me to Kate Smith, which I didn’t appreciate when I found out who she was. But I believe they meant it kindly. I was not a skinny kid.
            Once my grampa wanted me to read aloud a poem about the west that he liked. Just now, I wasn’t sure which poem that was, but I found it online, because it’s pretty ubiquitous really. I have copied it below:

“Out Where The West Begins”
Out where the handclasp’s a little stronger,
Out where the smile dwells a little longer,
   That’s where the West begins;
Out where the sun is a little brighter,
Where the snows that fall are a trifle whiter,
Where the bonds of home are a wee bit tighter,
   That’s where the West begins.
Out where the skies are a trifle bluer,
Out where friendship’s a little truer,
   That’s where the West begins;
Out where a fresher breeze is blowing,
Where there’s laughter in every streamlet flowing,
Where there’s more of reaping and less of sowing,
   That’s where the West begins;
Out where the world is in the making,
Where fewer hearts in despair are aching,
   That’s where the West begins;
Where there’s more of singing and less of sighing,
Where there’s more of giving and less of buying,
And a man makes friends without half trying,
   That’s where the West begins.
Arthur Chapman

            I’ll include a link to the story of how the poem came to be written. It's a pretty interesting story.

            An Enduring Western Poem

Getting picked up at the Gooding station.

The Journey Begins, #1

 

 

            “OK. I see some of you. It’s night now and I have a dark window I can get to,” said Charley, from the RV barreling through the desert night.
            “I see you too,” answered Suzy. “What’s up? Are you safe? Where are you?”
            “This was the second day. I never expected this!” continued Charley.
            “What?” Suzy sucked in her breath suddenly!
            “We’re moving. It’s not a car, but it’s moving. We don’t have a house and I’m alone!” said Charley. “Well, Ma’am is here, and those other two.”
            “What do you mean you’re alone, Charley? You’re talking crazy-mews!” insisted Suzy.
            “Do you see Mr. Baby Sir here? No, you don’t because he’s not here. Hence I am alone,” Charley announced. “Ipso facto!”
            “What does that mean?” said Willie, butting in.
            “Hipso fatso,” whispered Suzy, giggling.
            “I heard that!” yelped Willie.
            “Will you two knock it off! I’m trying to start a travelog here! Now, then. Here goes.
            “Yesterday we left the town where Ma’am’s family lives. I think they dumped Mr. Baby there. But nobody explains anything to me! Anyhow, we moved in this bus thing all day. During the day I hung around this window. All I could see were trees. Big trees and little trees, and hills and long boring highways. We drove all day until we got to the desert.

            “Then the trees were gone. It was rocks and dirt and bushes.
            “I was kind of missing that big fluff bag…” mewed Charley, as if to herself.
            “Yeah, yeah,” said Mr. Baby. He was borrowing the back porch glass door for a reflective surface to gaze into. “I’m kind of in jail. I’m stuck in the house here, while you get to go off on a big adventure.”
            “That’s because you kept running off and making them wait for you to come back!” said Charley primly. “I know better.”
            “Today Ma’am and those other two wanted to explore a cave, which is basically a large hole inside the rocks. She leashed me up and took me to the hole where the cave starts, but I couldn’t stand it. I started hissing and backing up. So, she put me back in this bus thing. That’s where I stayed, not knowing if any of them would survive the cave.

            “They did. I guess there were no bears in there. All three came back and we rolled back out onto the highway. She said we were in Nevada. Well, it looked an awful lot like California.
            “Next, we’re going to Arizona. I wonder what that will look like? I’m not sure what they’re up to. But I will find out. You may be sure,” said Charley with a sharp nod into the glass.
            Toots, who had been silent, finally said wistfully, “I think you’re awfully lucky to get to go so many places! I hope you keep us all filled in on everything you see outside!”
            “I will, Toots. But, I’m not scampering around anywhere my whimsey takes me either! She says that I’m a good traveling cat. That’s because I stay where she leaves me, right in here and I look out of the windows. I will say that the scenes changes! There is that!
            “I’ll let you all know,” said Charley.
            “Please keep in touch, Charley! So we know you’re OK,” said Suzy.
            “Yes, please,” said Toots.
            Willie and Mr. Baby were busy making faces at each other and practicing their best hissing, so they weren’t paying attention.
            “Mrrrrp out!,” said Charley and everyone went back to their own business.

🐈

She Did Take A Ride

 
            True to her word, in 14 days at around noon, a Saturday, Marge returned to the Gifting Stump. Since she and Twigg had a date and she expected to see him this time, she brought some lunch which she thought he might find interesting. She had picked up three small trays of Maki rolls from the Japanese café in town just before driving out to her mom’s place.
            Enid and Arthur were home this time. Marge did her duty with a short visit. Enid was still a severely trim older brunette, but maybe not so brittle now. Arthur was an affable old retired guy in a green and black plaid flannel shirt, tan pants, and had gray whiskers. Marge was happy that her mother had someone else to think about besides herself. At last she was able to leave gracefully.
            The Maki were in a small insulated lunch bag contraption in her Honda trunk. She fetched them out and began walking the familiar path. This time it seemed like she had never been away. This time also, Ooog was in his garden. She waved at the short little man in his odd clothing and with that white braid tucked in the back of his belt with true affection. He waved back; he seemed to recognize Marge. She was touched and shouted, “Say hi to Thaga for me!” Ooog nodded and kept digging.
            The spell of the meadow fell upon her then. Each particular bud or bloom, each vine, each tuft of grass spoke to her of longing. Tiny brown birds, probably bush tits, washed over the landscape in obscure passages. She was sure they spoke, but not what of. The path was intimate and beguiling. The short walk which should have taken ten minutes seemed to take longer and to be reluctant to let her pass quickly.
            Nevertheless, she soon saw the Gifting Stump and beside it Twigg waiting for her, surrounded by his B’s.
            “Hi, Twigg. I had forgotten how pretty it is out here!” said Marge rather breathlessly.
            “Hi, Marge. I think it might be showing off a little for you today,” said Twigg. “Sometimes it just does that.”
            “Are you hungry enough to eat?” said Marge. “I brought something I bet you’ve never had.”
            “I can always eat. Let’s see what you’ve got!” said Twigg.
            So they sat on the grass together, leaning on the old cedar stump and she showed him the trays of pretty rolls with several different things rolled into the rice and nori wrappers. Some had salmon and cream cheese. Some had various vegetables and there was wasabi and soy sauce to dip them in and pickled ginger to go with. She was wise to buy two trays for Twigg.
            After all of the rolls were gone, Twigg asked her, “Do you still want to go for a ride?”
            She looked at his sweet smile as he sat there and all the residual fear she had been carrying left her mind. He looked much wiser and kinder than any fear.
            “Yes, I do,” she said. It seemed like the world pivoted as she said so.
            “I told my father what we wanted to do. He thinks it will work fine for you, as well as me. I remember that the vanishing thing worked for you! Remember that?” said Twigg.
            “Yeah, I only did that once, but it worked,” agreed Marge. “It sure fooled mom.”
            “He said it was easier than it seems it might be. That it’s a matter of intention. The lights will know if you stand with arms stretched up and intend to summon one. It does sound a little funny, but I called one last night. It came and I didn’t ride it, I sent it off,” said Twigg. “I wanted to go with you the first time.”
            Twigg told the B’s that he was going to be busy for a while and that they should fly back to the hive and tell Queen Bernadette that he might come to visit and bring a friend.
            Soon the sunlit meadow seemed to be full of small bits of light, not unlike fireflies, but brighter because they were visible in direct sunlight against the blue of the afternoon sky and the green of the surrounding grass.
            Twigg stood then and threw up his arms in a wide gesture, and closed his eyes to concentrate. To Marge he looked impossibly mythic, archaic, monumental. As she watched one of the small bright bits separated from the others and maintained a position in midair before Twigg. Then it grew. It grew again, and then again until it was large enough to ride.
            Its brightness was duller now, more like a moonshiny glow. In fact it looked a lot like a moon come to earth, just resting in the air there before Twigg. He lowered his arms.
            “There’s no hard shell or anything, Marge. We just step in like stepping anywhere. You don’t need a door. The whole thing is like a door really, if you think about it,” he said then. “Hold my hand, I’ll go first and bring you behind me.”
            Marge took his hand, and he stepped into the light. She felt him pulling her along, so she followed him in, naturally. And it did feel natural, as natural as breathing.
            Inside the light, the air was slightly pearlescent, and smelled faintly of something like sandalwood. There were no seats, they just seemed paused in the atmosphere, timelessly without the ability to fall. It was warm, but not too warm. Twigg and Marge were filled with a sense of expectation and elation.
Outside the sweet meadow and the old stump were perfectly visible in the afternoon light. The smaller lights drifted away like moving daytime stars, leaving only theirs with them inside.
            “I know where I would like to go, but you pick first, Marge” said Twigg.
            “Oh, I hardly know. Let me think,” she said and was silent for a few moments. Then, “Can we just go high enough to see the whole forest and this meadow and maybe if it’s not too much, Milltown and then go where you want to go?”
            As she finished speaking the light rose softly into the air. Below the whole of the meadow was visible and then Thaga’s place and her mother’s house. They saw the little dirt road leading back to the highway. Then they rose to maybe a couple hundred feet and drifted over the Great Forest, in the air of Maeve’s world above the tree canopy.
            “Oh, I can hardly believe this is possible, and yet, here we are!” exalted Marge with tears in her voice.
            “Yes, it’s like a dream,” said Twigg. “I’ve never been near the town.”
            The light rose up higher and passed over the land between the forest and Milltown until they were looking at Marge’s world from on high. It looked a little like a map, and a little like busy toys beneath them. No one seemed to notice them drifting over, of if they did Twigg and Marge couldn’t see their astonishment. Perhaps some did see the large shining orb in the sky.
            “Where did you pick, Twigg,” said Marge.
“I would like to visit inside the B’s hive and see Queen Bernadette for a little while,” said Twigg.
            This time it was different. They didn’t feel movement. The sky outside of the orb vanished. Suddenly the daylight dimmed. They heard a very loud humming sound. The smell of honey was thickly around them.
            Before them stood a monarch, a Bee Mother. She was larger than either one of them by far. Attendants came to her and left her busily.
            “Let’s step out and greet her, Marge. The light will wait for us,” said Twigg.
            The Queen’s antennae waved, and she spoke when she saw who it was that had entered her domain. “Friend of Bees! Welcome! This is a fine meeting indeed. Seeing eye to eye at last! And, as Beryl told me when she returned from you, you have a friend! She appears to be human. What magic is this Twigg?”
            “Yes, Lady Queen, here is my friend Marge. She was brave enough to fly in a light with me!” said Twigg.
            “Hello, Ma’am, I am quite speechless. Please forgive me. I am honored to meet you!” said Marge. Once again, there were tears in her voice and perhaps some on her cheeks.
            “All is well. No forgiveness is needed. You are welcome,” said Bernadette kindly.
            She was a very busy queen, so Twigg and Marge only stayed for a short time and then felt they should take their leave respectfully. After thanking Bernadette, and wishing all the B’s well most sincerely, they re-entered the small glowing moon.
            In no time, they were back at the Gifting Stump, where the sun was beginning to descend behind the tall trees. Twigg and Marge stepped through the wall of light again, landing on the familiar grass. The light grew small, then very small and then drifted off into the sky and vanished completely.
            They stood together, still holding hands, watching it go and then watching the evening begin to dim towards night.
            “I don’t want to go back to Milltown and that room! I don’t want to ever leave here,” said Marge, surprising herself again. “I don’t think I ever fit in that world very well, but I don’t think I will fit now at all, Twigg!”
            “I don’t want you to ever leave either,” said Twigg.
            “I don’t know what to do,” said Marge.
            “We’ll figure it out somehow,” said Twigg. “I know we will. I’ll walk you to your car. Why don’t you go home, and when you are there decide which is best? Can you bear it?”
            “For now, yes,” said Marge, as they walked the path to where she had parked her car.

🌕

About Those Balls of Light

 

            Marge, Twigg’s buddy from Gifting Stump days, was growing up, as we all do. She was done with high school, for which she thanked the dear Lord, and was now attending the local community college taking general distribution classes and with a major in the art program. She was pretty happy there; it was a good fit. She continued to read a little bit of everything, a well-read kid.
            She had grown another inch taller since Twigg and she had last talked and was thinner, but she still looked like herself. She still liked to wear overalls. Actually overalls were a pretty good costume to wear working in the materials of the art department. If they get spotted with paint, well, that’s OK. It’s like a badge of honor as an art student.
            One late spring day between quarters, Marge had nothing much to do, and she began wondering how her friend Twigg was faring out in the Great Forest. She missed him and felt badly for not seeing him for over a year. The problem she had was how to contact him. The only thing she could think of was to make a journey out of town, walk to the meadow where the Gifting Stump stood and see if he appeared, which he just might, things being a little odd in the physics of the place.
            Marge drove a totally stealth old gray Honda Accord. It worked and ran cheap.
            So, she drove out to her mom, Enid’s, place and parked in the driveway. Enid and her new husband, Arthur, were not home. That only made things easier. She didn’t have to go in and visit them before setting out on her quest.
            It had been a long time in a young person’s life. The path seemed quaint and diminutive. Had she really walked this path so many times? There was the low stone cottage, Ooog and Thaga’s. She hoped they were well, but didn’t see anyone outside. She went on.
            The blackberry vines seemed to be more grown up, and all the alder saplings and grasses were taller than she remembered in the meadow. But the cedar stump was taller than all of that and still stood, a monument to the old logging days.
            She had brought a gift to leave there in case Twigg didn’t show up, so that maybe he would find it. It was a small wooden box containing sea shells and beach pebbles. Marge knew Twigg would like the seashells, things from another world from his forested one.
            The sun was shining; it was around noon. The meadow was nearly silent. There was just the sound of some birds chatting in the distance. And just like the first time she had been there she sat on the grass, leaning back on the old stump. She opened the box and looked at the shells and pebbles inside. It still seemed like a good gift, though rather humble. Her eyelids became heavy and Marge slept.
            As Marge was sleeping there like a child in her overalls, holding a wooden box in her lap, an exceedingly large raven saw her and drifted in to have a look. She landed on the grass near Marge and remembered the human girl who had been Twigg’s friend. She turned her shiny black head this way and that taking note of the scene with bright black eyes. The girl didn't wake, so she made up her mind and took off. Maeve was looking for Twigg.
            Marge dreamed as she slept in the meadow, of spheres of light. They seemed to be observing her. Then they left. If you had asked her, she would have said it was a dream, but who knows. Some things are so remarkable that they must be dreams! Or so she comforted herself as she was waking. It seemed as if she must have slept for over an hour. Twigg had not appeared so she prepared to put the box of seashells on top of the stump where he might find them. Then she thought she would go back to her room in town.
            Twigg must have gotten the message because suddenly there he was. And he was a sight to behold. He was at least seven feet tall, and heavily built. He looked a lot like his father, but had his mother’s sweet smile and he was surrounded by a cohort of bees, his nearly constant companions.
            “Twigg? That must be you,” said Marge when she turned and saw him.
            “Well, you’ve changed too, Marge,” said Twigg, and they grinned at each other as if they had only been apart a day or two.
            “I was missing you, so I decided to come out here and see if I could find you,” she said.
            “Maeve saw you and told me you were here,” said Twigg. “You remember Dad’s raven?”
            “Yeah, I heard about her,” said Marge. “Is she like a carrier pigeon around here?”
            “Um. No! Don’t let her hear you say that!” But he was laughing so much that he must have been imagining Maeve’s reaction to being compared to any kind of a pigeon.
            “She is more like his assistant who happens to be able to fly.
“          “I missed you too, but I can’t really go looking for you. I did check your mom’s house a couple of times. I hope I didn’t scare her too much. I think she caught me at it once!” said Twigg.
            “No problem, Twigg. She knows there is no such thing as a Bigfoot!” Marge was giggling too.
            “Why are all those bees flying around you?”  she added.
            “Beatrice, not the queen, but a leader of bees sends them with me. They call me the Friend of Bees because I help them with stuff sometimes. So she rotates out a crew to fly with me in the daytime. This one on my finger is Betty!” said Twigg, holding up his finger where Betty sat.
            “That’s pretty neat,” said Marge.
            “Yeah! They give me honey too!” said Twigg.
            “Probably better than taking classes! Hey, Twigg, while I was waiting for you I fell asleep for a while and I dreamed, or I think I dreamed of several round lights. They came and circled around me like they were looking at me, then they zoomed off. Do you know anything about anything like that? Were they really here, or was I still asleep?” said Marge.
            “I don’t know if you were dreaming, but those balls of light are real in real life. We see them all the time and we can use them too, if we want to.”
            “Use them for what?” said Marge.
            “Well, I’ve never done it, but my dad does sometimes. They’re a way to go somewhere like into another world or time. I’m not sure who made them. But, like, if I wanted to visit some place that is tiny, like if I wanted to go inside the beehive and walk around with the B’s. (I call them B’s because their names are all B names.) Anyhow, I could go in one of those lights. It’s inter-dimensional in two ways, I guess,” said Twigg.
            “It shrinks you?” she said.
            “I guess you could say that,” he said. “If you see one, it’s somebody coming or going somewhere.”
            “I brought you something,” said Marge and fetched the box back off of the top of the stump, and handed it to him.
            He opened the box and looked long at the seashells. They weren’t anything unusual, but Twigg had never been to a salt water beach or seen any shells.
            “What are they? So pretty, and those are pretty rocks too,” he asked.
            “I got them on the beach at Mukilteo when the tide was out. They’re just the shells of little animals. I thought you might like them,” said Marge, smiling up at him, still getting used to how big he was.
            “I better get back to town. I’ll probably have to visit with Enid and Arthur too before I can really leave, “ said Marge.
            “Will you come back?” said Twigg.
            “Yes. In 14 days I will be here at about the same time as today,” said Marge. “Do you think I could go for a ride in one of those balls of light, Twigg?”
            “All we can do it to try it! I can’t think of a reason why not. I haven’t done it, but maybe we can try together!” giggled Twigg, with his rather fey grin.
            “Alright! I’ll be back in 14 days! Don’t forget. Say hello to Ralph, and give my love to your sweet Mama, and Cherry and the animals, Twigg!
            “I’ll be ready to take a ride!” she said, a bit wildly, because honestly, she was a little afraid.
            “We’ll do it together, Marge,” he said, watching her walk down the path to her outside world.

October 19, 2014, Somewhere in the Cascades

             It looks like we were there before the snow came that year.

I hope you all have a great day!

Happy Suzday!

🍁

It Was An Old Old Story

 

            The sun was just starting to come up. He was just starting to wake up. He could see just a little light inside the cave where he and his family slept. This was pleasant and cozy, to drowse there under the extra large quilt in the big wooden bed with Ramona, who snored delicately next to him.
            But he began to perceive a discordant sound. Rick was honking his horn. Not just once, but several times, in a little pattern he liked to do.
            Ralph sighed and sat up.
            This honking was a signal between them. It meant Rick wanted Ralph to come meet him at the station. Rick didn’t attempt to locate Ralph and knock on his cave door. He knew about the alternate nature of things in Ralph’s domain, the Great Forest. He’d never find that door unless brought to it.
            Ralph nudged Ramona and said quietly, “Rick wants me. I’ll go see what it is, so he’ll stop that honking.”
            “This early? Wow. OK. See you later,” said Ramona, also quietly. Blue stirred, but settled again and Ralph slipped out of the door, shutting it carefully behind himself.
            The forest was damp and dim and cool as he made his way up the path to the ranger station parking lot. And, indeed, there was Rick in the driver’s seat of his Forest Service truck beeping out paradiddles.
            “Rick, are you alright? Good morning. I’m here,” said Ralph. “What’s up?”
            Rick stopped honking and piled out of his vehicle. He stretched and grinned.
            “I’ve arranged a meeting. Dexter is in there. You remember him. He’s a little worried about who you are, and I thought who better to handle his questions than the man himself,” said Rick. “I bought two of those Smørkages in town last night, to entice you with! Dexter is making coffee!”
            “Sure. Let’s do it,” grinned Ralph.
            Inside the office there were two chairs facing Rick’s desk. One was that big old oak chair for Ralph, and the other was a regular office chair. The office appeared to unoccupied, but they could hear Dexter in the kitchen nook getting mugs and sugar and cream ready on a tray.
            “We’re out here, Dexter,” Rick said, so they didn’t have another fainting episode when Dexter showed up with the coffee tray.
            The two cakes were on the desk already with some little plates and a knife.
            Ralph and Rick sat and waited.
            Soon slender redheaded Ranger Dexter Morten came out of the kitchen with the tray. He sort of kept his eyes down. He set the tray down on the desk and took his seat next to Ralph’s left side.
            Outside the windows, the sun was coming up for real, and the forest was awakening.
            “Dexter, I’d like you to meet my friend Ralph here,” said Rick.
            All 150lbs of Dexter gathered his courage and looked up. “Hi..,” he said.
            All 700lbs, approximately because he’s never been actually weighed, and 9’ of Ralph sat there looking as friendly as he could manage. But, it’s always a bit of a shock to meet Ralph nearby. He held still and didn’t make any sudden movements.
            Then, “Hello, Ranger. Good to see you this morning!” said Ralph in his low rumbly voice.
            “Nice to meet you too,” said Dexter, “Sorry about that first meeting.”
            “Nah, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have walked up on you like that,” said Ralph, agreeably. “Rick said you have some questions.”
            “Let’s have coffee and cake first,” said Rick.
            Rick had both sugar and cream in his. Dexter just put a lot of sugar in his. Ralph had his black. That’s the only way he knew to have coffee. He was starting to think about cream and sugar though.
            Rick cut all the sections of the Smørkage apart for convenience, and they all had a very pleasant, but sticky, half hour eating cake and drinking coffee and talking about nearly nothing.
            “Now, Dexter,” said Ralph, “I’m all ears. Ask away!”
            “Well, now that we’ve met and eaten together, this is going to sound rude,” said Dexter, “but what are you? Are you a big hairy man, a human, or are you a talking animal of some kind? I mean, right now, you seem as human as anyone, just look different.
            “I never believed that you existed. I suppose that’s why I fainted before. I’m trying to make sense of it, and I can’t by myself.”
            Ralph pushed his big chair back from the desk and crossed his right foot over his left knee, lacing his fingers together over his belly.
            “Maybe,” he said, “I can answer you with an old story my mother told me. I’m sure she got it from her mother, and onward back into the mysterious, dim, past. This is what we Forest Keepers believe, though it is probably a myth. But myths are just shortened history, you know?”
            “I think so,” said Dexter.
            “It goes something like this,” said Ralph.
            “Long ago, before cities and kings and all of that, all mankind lived together all over the world in every type of situation you could think of, in forests, or prairies, on beaches, or wherever. They hunted and fished for food. There was no farming, but they had the fruits of the earth when they could get them, berries and such.
            “There were no houses, machines, books, or anything modern and made by the hands of man at all.
            “One day, someone like the guy the Natives of this land call Coyote came bearing the gifts of technology. He showed people how to build houses and make gardens. He showed them how to keep animals for captive prey He showed them how to write down their words too.
            “This caused a great division among all mankind. Some, charmed by technology, forgot the ways of the forest and the rivers and the mountains. Some, fewer, stayed in the forests and the mountains. Those who made houses and farms and books became softer and smoother as time went on, and even smaller! After centuries, the Forest Keepers and the Techno People looked like two different creatures. But once upon a time, it  had not been so.”
            Ralph sat quietly for a bit, then he said, “That’s the trouble with myths, isn’t it? No way to know on what level it’s literally true, or if it’s all a poetic take on what really happened. What do you think, Dexter? Does that sound like a reasonable myth?”
            “It’s like a fable,” said Dexter. “The story is broken down into little easy chunks. I suppose a scholar would say, if that was the case, that it showed extreme adaptation. But, at the root of it we are both mankind.”
                “I always thought the story left out an awful lot about history,” said Ralph. “Even I, a Forest Keeper, knows more about history than that. But the story kind of works.”
            “It works for me, Ralph. It answers my question. That’s good enough for me,” said Dexter. “I am rather relieved to know that you’re not some kind of giant talking monkey!”
            “I’m happy to have helped,” said Ralph. “Rick, thanks for the coffee and cake! But I’m beginning to think about breakfast down at the Home Clearing. Ramona will be looking for me, so I better skedaddle!
            “Hey, Dexter, let’s all get together, Rick too, one of these days at my place. OK? Ramona would love to have you over too. I’ll get her to pick a day and all of that!” And with that, Ralph was out of the door, across the parking lot, and down into the forest. He slipped out like a huge Ninja and was gone.
            “Wow,” said Dexter, the Forest Service trainee.
            “Yep!” said Rick. “You see why it’s better if we just don’t know a doggone thing about any Bigfoots in our forest.”

🍀

Cherry Isn't Done Yet

 
            When Cherry and Blue came back to the fire circle Ralph was sitting on a log watching Ramona work with the venison haunch. She had it butterflied, so it would cook more evenly and quickly, had salted it and rubbed garlic mash on it. Ramona really liked garlic and was glad that Ooog grew a lot of it so she could have some too.
            Cherry climbed up on Ralph’s lap, and Blue lay down at his feet. Blue sighed and laid her chin on his big right foot and shut her eyes and went to sleep.
            Cherry nearly went to sleep too.
            But then she opened her eyes and said, “Da, are you sorry for the deer and rabbits and turkeys that you catch?” She was still thinking this thing over.
            “In a way, I am. But just because they are scared for a little while. Then, I am grateful that I can bring food back here for all of us to eat,” he said. Cherry listened to him and was silent, watching her mother turn that haunch into dinner.
            “Do they know they are going to die?” asked Cherry. “I mean while they are running away. Why are they running? Do they know?”
            Ralph thought about this one for a moment. Then he said, “No. I don’t think they know. Because they don’t know that they are alive. I don’t think they know anything in the same way you do. They run because I surprise them, so they run. Animals run when someone like a hunter or a bear or a puma surprises them. That’s how most of them stay alive.”
            “Blue is a hunter too. But she mostly doesn’t need to hunt. She mostly eats with us,” said Ralph. “So, I hunt for her too!” he laughed.
            “Why do we eat meat?” Cherry said, pursuing the discussion. “Could we eat grass and leaves like the bunnies?”
            “That never seems to work very well, Cherry. Some have tried it, and it didn’t act like food in their bodies. Well, we can eat the stuff from Ooog’s garden when he shares with us, but we live in the deep forest. Ooog’s vegetables are just a nice treat to us. It’s not what we depend on, is it?”
            “No, Da,” said Cherry.
            “In the world your mother was talking about, no one eats anything! There is no hunting, killing or cooking of food,” Ralph told his daughter. “There is no gardening either because we won’t need any of that.”
            Ramona laughed a little, and said, “that does sound like Heaven! But right now, I’m happy that I  have something to cook and that I can feed my family and animals too, if they haven’t gone out and hunted for themselves.”
            Her roast was starting to smell very good. Blue raised her head to smell it. In fact, everyone was smelling it and looking forward to dinner.
            “Oh, Cherry. What a serious little thing you are,” said her father. “Why are you asking so many questions today? Are you worried about something?”
            “I wondered if killing and eating all of these animals means we are bad?” said Cherry, still sitting on her father’s knee so she really had his attention. It was not totally unlike when Maeve sits on his shoulder to have his ear, so to speak.
            “I’m glad that you are starting to think about right and wrong, Dear Child. I’m proud of that! But, no, eating what our bodies are made to eat in this time, this world, is not bad. It is just the way it works here and now,” said Ralph. He was pretty stunned by the grilling that he was receiving, but rather pleased too.
            “Da, I don’t want anyone to eat Blue, or Bob or Berry! No one would do that would they?” she said urgently. “Or Maeve! What if someone hunted Maeve!”
            Maeve must have heard her name, or just happened to be in the neighborhood because there she was all of a sudden bombing down out of the firs. Her black wings folded up, and she landed on Ralph’s broad left shoulder.
            “Nobody hunts Maeve,” she said quite firmly. “It’s not done! The very idea, Child! No fear!” She strutted back and forth importantly to seal the deal.
            “That’s right, Birdy. Nobody is gonna hunt Maeve!” said Ralph.
            “Cherry, I’ll tell you one thing for sure!” said Ralph. “Nobody will be hunting for or eating Blue, or Bob or Berry because I won’t allow it! That’s it! So, don’t worry!”
            “That’s right, Maeve. No fear,” said Ralph.
            “I believe you, Da,” said Cherry. “I won’t be afraid.”
            Twigg came home from his work with the B’s about then, so it was just about time to eat. He brought some honey comb for dessert too.
            “Maeve, would you like to join us,” Ramona said.
            “Naturally. Thank you. Always!” said Maeve. Under her breath she whispered, “Evermore!”, because she just had to!

💚

A Purrsday Recommendation

 

😻A benevolent suggestion from Toots and Suzy.😻

Purr all the time!

Purr as much as you can!

Even if you don’t feel like it.

Life won’t always be a party.

 But the girls say it will be sometimes!

 (A thinly disguised open thread.)

🌸

How Does This Work

 

 

            Cherry was growing up around a lot of life and death. Her father, Ralph, and her brother Twigg, both hunted and fished. She observed that deer, turkeys, grouse, trout, or whichever animal they were fortunate enough to catch ended up most sincerely dead.
            She was aware that the flesh that was their food, often, when the hide was still on it looked quite a lot like her own, roughly. She ran her fingers through her own light blond coat. She poked at her own legs, feeling the muscle and bone, and pinched up her skin. There was a resemblance.
            Ramona was working on a haunch of venison, skinning it, getting ready to put it on the fire. It would take a long time to cook over the open fire. So, she was getting started while it was still early in the day.
            Cherry sat down on the log nearest her mother.
            “That deer is dead,” said Cherry.
            Ramona laid her knife down and rinsed her hands in the bucket of river water she kept handy while preparing food. She sat down by Cherry, and said, “Yes. Why do you ask?”
            “That deer had hair and bones with meat on them. So do I, Mama,” said Cherry.
            “In a way, you do, Cherry,” said Ramona. “But you’re different. Inside, in your heart you are alive in a way that deer wasn’t alive.”
            “How does that work?” wondered Cherry.
            “Try thinking of this, Honey. In this world the Maker of All built for us to live in, there is air and water and land and everything our bodies need to live. It’s the same for the animals, so our bodies are alike in lots of ways. Even fish, though they have to breath under water.”
            “OK, Mama. I understand that. But if the animals can be dead, can you be dead or Daddy, or can I be dead?” said Cherry earnestly, getting around to her real question.
            “Dear Heart, the part of you that is like all those animals can be dead. Usually, after a long busy life that part gets kind of worn out and it dies. But, the inside part of you, the part the animals don’t have in the same way, can’t die. It’s not part of the world that we see around us every day. It belongs to another world,” said Ramona, hoping that she wasn’t confusing the child.
            “What other world does it belong to,” said Cherry.
            “It’s a world that never ends and there is no death. It’s made of love and being, and your thoughts. Those things never die because they aren’t made of the stuff in the world which grows, and changes and wears out and ends. People call it Heaven, because everybody has a hard time telling about it, because we are in this world and all of our life, we only know this world. It’s so different,” said Ramona. “All of our words are from here. It’s a different language, I think.”
            “But Blue and Bob and Berry have love too,” said Cherry. “I know they do!”
            “Yes, they do. I don’t know everything, Cherry. Maybe the animals that have love are part of that life that never ends. I bet they are!” said Ramona.
            “OK, Mama,” said Cherry. She was content then, and went off to play with Blue, the white wolf pup.
            Ramona picked up her knife and went back to work on the venison. Just as she did, Ralph came home with a load of dead branches, deadfall and such in his arms. He stacked it conveniently to the fire circle stones and said, “How are you this morning, Mona? Anything interesting going on?”
            “Yeah. I’ve been talking with Cherry,” said she.
            “Oh, big stuff? Anything important?” he asked.
            “Well, yeah. It started with death and ended up with the endless, eternal unseen world. I don’t know if I said the right things. I was trying to speak to her understanding without telling her things that aren’t real.”
            “What got her going on that?” the concerned father asked.
            “She was noticing that this part of a deer here is dead. Then she started comparing it to her own body, and there we went!” said Ramona.
            “I’m sure you did well. You do everything well, Firekeeper,” said Ralph most fondly.
            He broke up some of the firewood. Then he carefully fed the fire with some of the broken pieces. Ralph doesn’t mind standing in as a Firekeeper once in a while.
            He doesn’t have a thing to prove, not anywhere in the Great Forest.

🍒

Toots and Suzy Have a Couple of Announcements

🧡 Happy Tootsday! 🧡

            “OK, listen up! This one is for both peeps and cats!” said Toots. “You probably wonder why we called this meeting, so soon after the other one. Willie, will you please stop winking at Charley? I can see you, you know!”
            “We wanted you to know that our Research Department has finally settled on an improved nomenclature for the day of the week usually called Friday,” said Suzy, breathlessly.
            “That’s right,” said Toots. “Many choices were tossed up into the air and examined but just didn’t have the perfect cat specific ring!” added Toots.

           Mr. Baby raised a paw. “Whose idea was this anyhow? It might confuse some of the visitors to this little world within the world which we inhabit.”
            “Ahem. MEOW!,” said Willie, who was in a dickens of a mood for a meeting.
            “Cats don’t care about that!,” said Suzy. “The business of cats is cat business. And that’s only right and proper. Ask any cat!”
            (General applause ensues!)
            “That’s right. And any reasonable life form agrees,” said Toots, “But to get back to the business at hand…”’
            “Indeed,” said Suzy. “Toots and I stand before you paw in paw, to announce the new word.”

😻“F’lineday!”😻

            (All stand! Applause is long and loud.)
“Speaking for the rest of us, and for the visitors to MEOW, I have to say that we are fortunate that our Research Department held steady and didn’t jump too soon,” said Willie, very seriously. Well, as serious as Willie gets.
            “Well said, Brother,” said Suzy. “And we all agree!”
            “So let it be written,” said Toots.
            “Yes, it shall be written,” agreed Suzy.

💐

            “That’s about it. Enjoy your morning! Oh! One other thing! The Research Department is looking into correcting the mundane usage ‘Saturday.’ Please let them know if you get any really inspired ideas!” said Toots. "We can do better!"
            (Applause! And shuffling as everyone leaves the meeting.)
            “That went well,” said Suzy to Toots, and Toots had to agree! Both were quite pleased!

🤍

Mew-on-day, Nest Building Edition

 

Close-up of Klawock Lake nest with ax for scale.

            Suzy had been looking over my shoulder, catching up on the Squatchie news . Somebody must have mentioned finding huge nests built up in trees, the apparent resting places, or perhaps the nurseries of resident Squatches some place on the American continent.

            This fired her imagination, predictably. She does take notions.
            “P-lady?” she said, from near my right elbow in a small creaky voice.
            “Yes, I’m listening,” I said, encouragingly.
            “They said those big forest people made nests in trees. I heard that,” she said. “I thought just birds did that?”
            “Well,” I said. “Back away from the literal nest part for a minute. You know everyone needs a place to sleep, of course. Some creatures dig holes to make a sleeping place, or you might call it an underground nest. Some things even burrow inside logs. Some sleep underwater.”
            “How can anything sleep underwater?” said Suzy.
            “Whales and fish and everybody in the ocean or lakes or rivers has to sleep somewhere. They can’t come up on dry land and build nests,” said I.
            “Can I have a nest in a tree?” The obvious next question.
            “It would be a lot of work,” I said. “One time long ago, one of my human kittens and I talked about doing it. But it turned out to be too much work. First you have to find a tree that is shaped just right. Then you have to find or cut a lot of strong branches and carry them up into the tree somehow. After that, you have to weave them together into a strong bed which won’t fall out of the tree while you are sleeping!”

            “Oh, no!” said Suzy. “I had no idea!”
            “Last of all you have to make it soft somehow. Birds use fluff and bits of string and anything they can find. Gorillas and Squatches use leaves mostly. That would take a lot of leaves and grass or maybe cattail fluff, pardon the expression!” I continued. “I think all of that soft bedding keeps the wind out too and makes them warmer, if they live in cold places, like we have here a lot of the year.”
            “I like to be warm. I need to be warm!” said Suzy.
            “Is being warm the most important thing?” I asked her.
            “Meerrp! Yes! Being warm is the best thing!” she said. “Sometimes I’d rather be warm than bother with eating!”
            “You’re a cat, for sure! Cats love to be warm,” I agreed. “Of course, we all do, more or less, depending,” I giggled.
            “I think you’re better off in the house here, than up a tree, where the owls might find you!” I said.
            “Owls! I forgot about owls!” she said.
            “Besides,” I said, “You have about fifteen little warm nests in the house here! I think a cat sleeping in a tree would be just asking to meet an owl.”
            “I do? Where are my nests?” she wondered aloud.
            “I don’t know where all of them are, but some are the back of the sofa, my closet, back behind the boxes on the back porch and who else knows where. You know better than I do!”
            Willie strolled up to add his two cents.
            “I know where they are!” he said.
            “That only makes sense, Willie. You nest up in the same places, plus my pillow,” I said.
            “Your pillow is my favorite,” he said, and continued on his way.
            “I have another question,” she said. I looked at her, waiting. Her questions can be quite far-ranging.
            “What is the most beautiful color combination?” she said, looking deeply into my eyes with her shimmering green eyes.
            “I think it must be the deep dark blue of the sky on certain days next to the deepest richest, almost orange yellow you could think of. Like the color of some poppies that you see in the summer along the roadside,” I said.
            “That does sound beautiful,” she said dreamily. “Will you take me to see them when they bloom?”
            “Yes. Let’s plan to do that. I think it’s time to go for a ride. Maybe even before the poppies bloom again.”
            “OK,” she said, and yawned delicately. Then she left my side to go sleep on the top of the old gas heater, which has been popping on lately, since it’s getting later in the year.

🧡💙