Count to ten ...

Warning: This is the final dose of this medicine story. 

If you arrived unaware ... the story begins here. 

If you know how these stories play out, carry on ... 

It wasn't far to the first speed bump. The rain shot horizontal before they reached the old truck.
"There it is!" The boy shouted to be heard over the pelting rain. And then, the thunder. The man nodded but was counting in his head, "One, two, three ..." Lightening didn't usually hit the ground around here. He was thinking that too. But tonight was a time of unusuals and four didn't come before the blaze struck. It was close-by.

The forest and the parallel flow of rain created something. Something the boy would never forget, and the man hoped would bring her back. There are portals that open easily given the right set of wishes. Yes. Wishes work for many reasons. One of the best reasons of all has to do with putting all your goodness into believing. Parallel rain made during wishing has nothing to do with what Humans wish for, and everything to do with how Elements simply are. Mixing and Muddling, things were primed. The portal opened. WOOP.

"Where'd it go? Daniel, the truck. Where'd it go?"
"I'm not sure Pat, but, we need to turn this truck around. This storm's too big to mess with." Daniel Ornellas was mostly talking with one hand the other hand gripped the wheel. Outside the wind buffeted with ferocity. The truck rocked. The trees bent too close to the ground.
"Count to ten Pat. Keep track of that storm." Pat O'Neil had learned about counting between the thunder and lightning. His mom had taught him when he was a little kid.

Oh the Invisibles watched from their places, poised to consider their next steps. They listened.

"One, two," Lightning. Closer still, the Storm was almost directly upon them. The gravel road ran thick with a new gully of rain. Downed limbs the size of arms.
"Pat. Unbuckle your seat belt, and get down on the floor. Sounds weird. But ... please just do it okay." The wind was pitching, and though they were close to home, close was sometimes not near enough. Pat did as told. "Tuck under that glove box." Daniel reached down, slowed the truck enough to pull on the release and slid the bench seat back. "Stay put, and keep your arms over your head!"

By the clock, Daniel and Pat were gone from the others less than ten minutes. The soup was still hot, and the pie still warm. Calypso was just getting ready to ladle soup when she saw the lights of Daniel's truck. "Thank the Goddess! They're back." Pat was the first one through the door. Daniel sat for a couple exhalations, then tried the remote to the garage door. It opened. The camp lanterns and 9 volt batteries lit up from the truck's headlights. He grabbed them, put them into an empty cardboard box. Dry rain gear hung on the hooks. He used them to cover the lanterns.

The storm wore the night like spandex. Tightening around everything that was grounded, the man thought he heard his wife. "You always loved me in spandex." Shaking is head, the carpenter opened the truck door, turned off the head lights, closed the door and headed for the cottage door. Something crossed his path just before he stepped inside. Lightning struck directly above. The long-haired cat watched from the porch, then stepped into the horizontal.

MORE AND DIFFERENT just keeps wanting out! Click here the next medicine has begun.

Without warning

It seemed to come from nowhere. But, any good weather witch knows nowhere is spelled with a capital "N" and reckons itself, asking no permissions, and making no apologizes. The lights did flicker, I'll give you that. It might have been a warning.

The wind bent the trees lower than Calypso had seen in the twenty years she lived here. Sudden. Harsh. Long-lasting. The first limb to fall must have struck the lines that connected the lane with the power station just outside town. Like candles snuffed. The lights were gone, and the sound of low pressure meeting high filled the world.

"Flashlights! In the cabinet behind you."Calypso adjusted quickly to the darkness. Peg put the cat down and felt for the edge of the counter.

"There should be two of them." She was already into the freezer, to make sure the extra batteries were there.

Peg O'Neil felt for the flashlights, found them and switched them on.

"Good!" Calypso and May said in tandem. And then they both realized at exactly the same time, "Are the boys back? Daniel and Pat.

"No, they haven't been gone but a couple minutes. Five at the most." It was too soon to panic, and Peg O'Neil was not one to lose her composure. Pointing one of the lights in the direction of her daughter and Larkin, the mother saw the girls' eyes bright as beacons. They seemed lit was inside. That was spooky. She handed Larkin the larger of the lights.

"Are we staying the night then?" Kaitlin's voice an octave higher with excitement asked so anyone could answer. The wind was loud and only getting louder. Larkin held the light up to her face, "Of course!"

It was nights like this, and they did come every fall and winter, Calypso wished she had made peace with Fire. A stout cast iron stove and well seasoned Doug Fir would burn a warm fire. Some things don't come easy. That was one of those amends that remained unchecked. Her list was shorter, but still ...

The propane tank was filled just the other day. It would keep the house warm. The click of the radiators confirmed their efficacy. Candles were part of the un-kept resolution with fire. Calypso did not keep them in the house, and though May never traveled without them, she knew the flames even small as they were would not be lit in her sister's house.

The storm was no where nearing it's peak, you could feel it pitching yet. "I'm got lanterns and spare batteries for them in the garage. But, it's too dangerous to go outside. Soup's hot and the pie should be warm enough, too. Anyone hungry?"

Find out.

Small things

The smell of soup and apple brandy settled everywhere chasing the dampness from the night that was still, a dark and rainy one. Warmth from the copper coils that ran through the floor rose through the cotton rugs and mats. Purposely positioned radiators kept the nooks where people automatically clustered just that little bit cozier. Peg O'Neil had a kitchen chair pulled in front of the radiator that replaced a wood burning stove. The raised brick hearth still served as a perch for warming cold feet. Maydene started to offer her towels. Calypso shook her head, reached for clean rags and an old throw rug, "Use these. I'll take the towels." There weren't many big fluffy bath towels to share with a cat. Even this cat. The sisters nodded an acknowledgement of priorities. Small things. But still.

Daniel asked for the keys to the old truck, "I have a gas can. Fill her up, and move it to the side of the road till morning."

"Can I come?"

"Ask your mom about that Pat." There were things boys need to do with another man, and since there weren't many opportunities for Pat, or Daniel to share these rituals, Peg O'Neil looked up from the cat now less drenched. "Take a flashlight! And keep your hood up ... please!"

"Course I will!" The boy knew where his mother kept the flashlight in their car. Small things. But still.

In turn Calypso and Maydene made sure the two girls were stripped of wet clothes, the costumes of the day were replaced with dry socks, turtle neck shirts, freshly washed fleece hoodies, and long warm skirts swimming in patchwork designs. "How delicious you both look," once the girls had switched from costume to Pine Needle Dance Makers.Larkin's skirt was just that. Larkin's skirt. She was at least three inches taller this year and the row of new patches were scalloped and deep blue. She twirled to get the feel of it. "Thank you gran. I love it!"

"How did you know to have a skirt for me?" Kaitlin the clever was running her small hands up and down the length of her new skirt. The patches were quilted adding warmth. As she moved her hands over them a smatter of spark lit around her.

"Always pays to be prepared for company, sweetheart. Pine Needle Dance Makers have some very simple rules. One of them is there's always enough." Calypso felt her heart crack ... just a little.

The miniature witch looked across the room to her mother, then quickly back to Larkin's gran. "Are there many other rules?"

"Not many." It was true.

A little more.


Author's Note:

It's the second full day of my 68th year. The Wind in his or her elemental form is blowing fiercely. It stirs everything and everyone up. With that blowing element touching us all, I came back to check on the story. Just as I am checking on my current pot of soup simmering nicely on the burner under the eaves outside, I followed Pete's comment, "My head's swimming from trying to keep up with all the characters.(In this story). You do that when you start."

I do. I do like to get to know who is coming into story form. I don't know in advance, really I don't.

Anyway, the thing is I will sometimes mix them up (the names of characters) especially when the medicine is just sorting itself out. Like soup. The flavors not yet melded, the squash is still not broken down, the onions near half dissolved into the broth. So, what I'm saying is I found a mix of names in this part of Pine Needle Dancers. You may have already found how I did that with the two little girl's names.

I am sorry about that. These are not perfectly honed stories ... just tasty enough to get something out of me. Called out of me. The girls have been given their proper places again with their names attached for the next bits of things. The dancing will start up soon. Hear it? The dance of the wind, and the music is high up in the Tall Ones.

Cheers ... ymc

License * ... there's an update to the original segment

Still wound in towels Maydene opened the steam to the rest of the house's upstairs floor. Small, strong arms wrapped around her, In bare feet the four year old was already chin height. "Is that your truck on the road? We almost crashed into it on the way home. Have you a license to drive now? Oh I am so happy to see you. Will you stay the night? Longer maybe. Oh say you'll stay."

Squeezing back, Maydene flopped on the threshold of the room, taking her grand niece in as the steam seemed to fold them into whatever events were well on their way. "So many many questions. Wee one, who is not quite as wee as you used to be."

"Have you Aunty May?"

"Have I ...."

"Got a license to drive now."

"Of course I don't have a license. Who is it that needs to know I drive an old truck like Olympia?" The girl wasn't sure she had an answer to fit her great aunt's question. But, she did know rules weren't particularly important when it came to Aunt May. She'd heard her father say so on more than one occasion. At some point, the reason for rules would become important but maybe, not tonight. Or, maybe, it was just the night to consider rules.

"Oh, it makes no matter mind, does it! Aunty May we have company. Downstairs."

"Can I meet them in my towels you think?"

Larkin just laughed and pulled at the woman's hands.

Update starts here ...

The package of people filled the small kitchen, spilled into the living area. May was deft at costuming, and pulled the now-dry cape about her. The towels unwound easily, and her short hair was already dry. "Maydene. That is your truck. Thought so." Daniel wobbled on an edge of attitude somewhere not quite as near to resentment ... Time had done its work applying forgiveness. The tinker and mender was surprised at how glad he was to see the little woman.

Maydene looked for all the world at that moment to be a Judi Dench double. She spoke to Daniel. Her accent stronger than he remembered, "Am I still on your shit list?" Precisely the sort of words you'd expect from Dame Judi, and May. She had such guts. "Maybe not," Daniel accepted her outreached arms, smelled roses and wished the rules for life would stay nailed down. "Thank you Dan."

"And who are you?" Maydene let her hand rest on Daniel's hand for a moment, no longer, before turning to meet the eyes of the company. Four eyes returned her gaze. The boy was at least a head taller than she, and the girl was still respectfully child-size.

"I'm Pat O'Neil, and this is my sister Caitlin. My mom's just outside in the car. Her name's Peg. We saw a truck parked in front of the first speed bump. Someone must have run out of gas or something."

"Very clever boy. I did run out of gas, and that old truck her name's Olympia is mine. How do you do." Maydene extended her hand.

"You're British aren't ya?" It was Caitlin. "You sound like those people Mom loves to watch on TV. They're British."

"Another clever young person. Three of you in one tiny cottage on a Hallow's Eve. Oh what fun this will be. Yes, I am British and you are not!" Her voice and her comments surprised the children. They were mesmerized. Calypso hoped her sister was not casting spells with her voice.

The door opened. "Look who I found. Nearly drowned by the look of it. Poor thing. Anyone allergic? Can I bring it in?" Peg O'Neil was tucked under a big checked umbrella with an armful of wet long-haired cat. Calypso inhaled deeply, lifted the lid of the soup and sipped on the small cup of warmed apple brandy.

That would be number four. The party began in earnest.

Next.


* This segment was inspired by a morning romp on the internet. Following the scent of Gloria Steinem's most recent memoir, "On the Road"  I ended up reading this Seattle Times interview, I discovered: "I don't drive!" 

Shivers*

"When you're sitting here, the reasons for believing is easy."

Maydene shook her head sending droplets of water off the ends of her newly shorn hair. Steam filled the shower, and the whole of the bathroom was as humid as the air was thick outside. The Trees had made their collective shift and shiver from exhaling, to inhaling. Added to the rain that had become an earnest downpour the forest was wet. "How do they do that Aunty May? How do the Trees go for so long without ... at this point the little girl always held her breath ... taking a breath?"  Imagina was born without forgetting. She had questions full and unstopping. In those days Maydene and Calypso were the inseparables. Partnerless, these sisters had history that braided like Sweetgrass. There was Calypso, Maydene, Imagina and All Others. It was another time, another house. But memories don't let that stop them, do they.

In the steamy room Imagina's voice traveled the gossamer. Maydene wrapped one towel around her head and indulged in the second as she closed the toilet lid and sat for a spell. Well yes, she allowed herself a small spell to remember ... "How indeed do they manage to exhale exhale exhale? Imagina, it is their dance with the sun that makes it easy, makes it ... just what that were born to do. Sun, wind, Lono, Tree. Oxygen." The answers always included a bit of language, a word or two that were from an Older Time, or a time where all words knew each other.

"What is Oxygen?" As though the question was just that much too much for a steamy bathroom conversation with a ghost, Maydene heard galloping on the steps outside the door. "Aunty May!!"

It continues ...

* I've just finished reading Sightings: The Gray Whales' Mysterious Journey written by Brenda Petersen and Linda Hogan. Late in this haunting and relevant book of essays Hogan describes what happened on the Makah Reservation prior to the first whale hunt in hundreds of years. The shiver and the line that begins this entry opened more space for this.

The purple cape

Puddles grew to lake-size before the night was pitch black, The porch light was cheery, turning the downpouring rain into streamers of gold. Thin and steady streaks. Too deep in the woods for Halloween trick or treaters, it surprised Calypso to hear a loud knock and a voice. "Trick or Treat," coming from what sounded like someone not quite young ... but neither old. Nothing much frightened the crone. Too tough to be stupid, but not so stupid to be careless. In twenty-five years there were never any kids at her door for this holiday. What to do?

Tucked just inside the door Calypso kept her husband's hockey stick. Good for sailing slugs, and one hell of a weapon welded in strong arms. She had those. Through the window she could see a small figure dressed in a long purple cape. Under the porch light the purple was slick with rain. A clear plastic raincoat covered the cape. A hat pointed and sharp on top was drooping over the figure's face. "Trick or Treat, damn it Calypso. It's me. Maydene. Open up before I wash away."

"Geez Maydene, where did you come from." Calypso set the hockey stick down and drew the safety latch off the front door. She'd slipped it in place as she considered the answer to that question about what to do? "I came for Halloween! I still miss her too. I'm entitled and I could use a mug of that hot apple brandy a half hour ago." She was a talker and the plastic raincoat had done very little to keep her dry. "I drove that old truck of mine, but ran out of gas at that first speed bump. Left the lights flashing on the old gal. Couldn't get her off the road. We'll need to go rescue her before long."

While the small woman peeled herself out of wet purple cape, Calypso galloped up the stairs to the bathroom for dry towels, pulled her chenille bathrobe off its hook and turned in time to bump into her sister who had followed Calypso. For a small woman she was quick. "Still as nimble as you ever have been I see." A spark of acknowledgement flickered between them. Calypso decided to let the small fire pass, for now. "Why don't you take a hot shower to warm up. Here's my robe. I'll warm up some brandy. The kids'll be back anytime. They're bringing company. So you be ready to be nice."

"Aren't I always?"

"Yes, you are always ..."

"See you downstairs. Want some dry clothes?"

"No need. The cape kept me from drowning. I set it near the radiator in the hallway, won't take to a dryer."

No thought Calypso that cape wouldn't take to a dryer. "See you downstairs. There's soup and apple pie. You hungry?"

"I'm always hungry. You know that."

Trick or treat...that makes four. Everyone was in their places.

There's more.

The resetting of clocks

"She is mixing time up in her thinking," Pine who Stood did not make a habit of eavesdropping but on this occasion Calypso's recollection caught his attention.

"Does it matter so much the precision of when her daughter was born? She means to attach meaning to her feeling. That can't be dangerous, can it." Hemlock considered the opinion from her angle. A different angle.

Though the Pines lose much of their hair during the fall, their hearing is very finely-tuned. Humans who live among them have the benefit of their capacity, and it was a good thing. Communication between Trees was a full-body experience. There was the wind that sent messages between them ... and over long distances. But, it was the network of knowing underground that kept things moving.

Meddling in human business was a risky endeavor, but necessary. Pine who Stood was the elder of this forest community and he had sensed the change of perspective that happens to all living beings. The shift that resets clocks naturally. Calypso was replacing one thing or two things for space, and that was what happened. What's important? Details or essence?

Pine and Hemlock stood, the wind blew through with gusto, clouds raced somewhere.


St. Theresa's was over the top with buzzing chatter and tables decked out with cakes, cookies and crafts. That was what awaited folks after the costumed little folks wound their way through a parking lot of SUVs with their trunks agape. The rain was making things interesting, but, this was rain country and the uninitiated would be after a season with Salish Rain. Umbrellas and canopies dangled with plastic pumpkins the size of tangerines; tangerines filled baskets next to Halloween sized Three Musketeers Bars and Baby Ruths. Adults and teens reveled in the atmosphere of costumes.

Daniel had painted an old wooden bucket orange with a push cart handle for his daughter's Trick or Treat bag. A set of wheels from an old toy was assembled below. Lined with a paper bag and its own tiny black umbrella Larkin proudly wheeled her wooden bucket on wheels for her treats.  It didn't take long for the bucket to fill. It was a small bucket, but plenty enough for the girl with a sweet tooth.

"Honey, I'm heading over to see how the chalkboards are selling. Peg's hawking the wares for us." Daniel pointed to Peg O'Neil who was Glenda the Good with a bit of an attitude. Her wings were a razzle of color and rabbit ears flopped over her turquoise bright eyes. She was an old friend. Her mother's oldest friend as a matter of fact.

Most of the kids were gathering around tubs of apples bobbing in water. It looked like fun. Larkin saw her friends, and asked if she could join them instead.

"Sure, I'll find you in the crowd." There were lots of adults supervising the organized mayhem. "The table's at the end of row that way." Daniel pointed to the table close to the windowed door leading to the side of the church.

Larkin really liked Mrs. O'Neil, and she knew her dad liked her too. The two O'Neil kids were already wet from apple bobbing, a dry towel wrapped Caitlin O'Neil's freckled face. When the older of the two siblings saw Larkin pushing her orange bucket on wheels, he beamed with a toothless grin. Pat O'Neil, aged 7 and a half had a sweet tooth for Larkin. He teased in a deep dramatic flare, "Where do you live little girl?" Larkin was ready for him. "Who wants to know?"

" I'm the Big Bad Wolf and I'm gonna huff and puff and blow your house down, and steal your candy!"

From under the dry towel Caitlin O'Neil giggled, "He's not the Big Bad Wooff. That's just Peter." Cailtin was three and a half going on twenty. Patrick Peter O'Neil would always be Peter to her. Standing on a stepstool to get into the barrel of apples, someone with safety on the brain had thought to put water wings on the little girls' arms in case she toppled in after the bright Honey Crisps.

Time sped. Tonight was the last of those artificially long Daylight Savings times. "I hate that stuff," Daniel muttered under his breath as he looked at the time on his cellphone. There was a man who was most at ease when he could fix things to the way he reckoned true.

"Can't fix the time Dan," Peg O'Neil was one of those Pine-bred women with keen hearing and no nonsense reply mechanism built-in.

"You weren't meant to hear that," Daniel wasn't always ready for the woman's truths. Changing the subject he was tickled to see all of his chalkboards were gone. A dozen brought. A dozen sold.

"Would you and the kids like to come over to the house after we clean up here? Calypso's made soup and pie. And we're making Pine Needle Dancers?"

Without hesitation, at the thought of good food and his company Peg O'Neil flipped one of her rabbit ears out of her eyes and said,  "We'd love it!"

"Great, I'll give Calypso a call and let her know to expect three more." One more to go before the night is over.

Keep reading.

Needle and thread

"The soup is terrific!" Daniel was an appreciative eater. Sitting to eat was one of the few times Larkin saw him still. Together for a midday meal the three of them slurped the thick and savory chicken soup.

"There's still time to join the kids for Trunk and Treat, Larkin. Ready to go into town?" The Catholic church cleverly matched up the first of the Holiday Bazaars with the dress your car and treat kids to the booty of lots of sugar in bowls and sacks filling your truck; and a place to dress-up in costumes plain or fancy.

"Yup!" The girl had been in costume all day. The embroidered spider webs and bouncy spider tiare might become an everyday costume, it would make no never mind. Larkin was not without lots of friends, if she wanted them. Two at a time was plenty, and a gaggle like would be at the church this afternoon was a once in awhile deal for the mostly solitary November-born.

Larkin and Daniel made sure every last bit of the soup was relished. "There's apple pie for later," Calypso reminded. "If there's room after all that candy." She eyed Daniel with that comment. They both knew the girl had a sweet tooth. "And those needles will be wanting to be tied and colored with thread tonight. Just waiting for your strong little fingers to fiddle with their bellies and give them their dancin' boots." Luckily, the rain had stopped. Larkin kept her rubber boots on. They looked great under the threads stitched into Lanalana's great webs. The tiare bounced on her bare head.

"We'll be back before dark," Daniel promised. He knew the importance of making the Pine Needle Dancers. And, he wouldn't mind sitting for a few sips of Calypso's apple brandy tonight. Four years. He missed her just as much tonight, as that first night. Fixing, helped. But then ... not everything could be fixed. Calypso puckered up for kisses from both of them. Then shooed them like flies too long buzzing around good food.

Left to herself, Calypso washed up the soup bowls, and reset them on the table for later. They'd made an extra big patch. Everyone would enjoy one more bowl tonight. The chicken's needed feeding and watering, and then she'd pull out the bundles of colorful threads. The box of Pine Needles gathered earlier in the season had cured and were nice and dry. That's all it took to make the simple dancers made from the fallen hair of Pines.

"Simple magic, my darling daughter. How I miss you most on this day," Halloween had always been their favorite time. It seemed wrong to her father, good traditional Catholic he frowned on the ghoulishness of all those skeletons and the reminders of death. But his ill-humor was rubbed smooth over the years of marriage. "Life and death Chaco. One and the other." Chaco was her nickname for Charlie Ornellas. Weighing life and death in each palm, she turned the would be argument into a dance. Seducing him with her beauty and her joy for life, Calypso Sr. her mother poured life rich and plenty into her family.

They were ... all very close on Halloween Night. More were still coming, and it should prove to be an interesting time. After the chickens she reminded herself. She meant, the frozen apple pies could sit out till after the chickens were fed.

But really, she knew there were other things to do to prepare for tonight. At least four visitors would need a handful of needles and lengths of colorful thread.

What's next?

Find out here.

Boots and Bolero

Inspiration for this story came from the Pine Needles themselves. All around us, and on the forest's floor, they called with a voice I hadn't heard ... till this season with them.

This couple have danced into the home of my very very dear friend Jt who inspired me to watch, and listen to those 'Invisibles' with messages waiting to be stories.

Back to the story.

Imagina

Imagina (Spanish)

imagine, create a mental image which does not literally exist, fantasize, visualize; think, suppose, assume; guess; suspect

The rain came. Regularly, this season brought the water. This family was used to the dampness, hardened off at the heart, the oldest of them were also the most hale. They were tall and bold, and when the rains came in earnest, for the next months, most of their long straight hair had fallen. Now on the forest floor like some would have in their dwellings, the Pines' Hair settled thick and soft. The Pine Family lived with others of their kind but shared the remaining stand of third-growth with Cedar, Hemlock, Alder and Douglas Fir. All around them

Trees knew the changing ways that were toppling them. Part of the hardening off of their Heartwood had to do with recognizing the Humans who would have their backs so-to-speak. During this season of damp, this new season of rain and cold, the Pines kept track of those who remembered how to care for their hair, and their gifts.

"Needles. We call them Pine Needles," said Larkin's Gran. Larkin was celebrating her fourth birthday in less than ten moon phases. She was Scorpio, and this was her season. Gran Calypso was Larkin's teacher, her storyteller, her soup maker and mostly her most special friend. There were no other children in this family, no human ones let me just say that. There was Daniel, Larkin's father. He loved to fix things, and spent much of his days doing that. Here and there, Larkin's father helped people who didn't seem to know how to do those things.

There was Celia and Moss. Celianmoss. Larkin always said their names together because they were always together. They lived in the forest, but had their separate house across the orchard with their cats Cobb and Litter. Cobb and Litter never left their house. Larkin visited the cats and the two women across the orchard. Larkin's mother, Imagina died giving birth to her. It was an odd and unexpected death. She had been one of the hale and hearty ones. There's more to that bit of the story embroidered throughout ... we'll let that dangle here for awhile.

Larkin had her raincoat and rubber boots on, but was bent over at the waist scooping handfuls of White Pine Needles from the pea gravel beneath her. Raindrops dropped from the gutter above her onto her neck. "Pull that hood up over your head dear." Gran Calypso and Larkin were just about finished with the chopping and seasoning of the chicken, squash, parsnips, onions, kale. Tonight's soup. The girl could see how the Pine's hair had gotten their name. Stitching and hand-sewing involved needles. Needles of all kinds: curved ones for holding canvas sides together when safety pins did not hold for example. Hmm. Seems I've got myself on a pace of fast talking, and it's really the girl's story.

"Gran, are these needles good for collecting? There are so many of them all over the place seems such a shame to just let them get wet." Yup this was no ordinary four year old. Her sight was keen and her mind made connections to a whole picture most grownup humans never would view.

"Let's get a soft bit of cloth to dry them. Set up near the heat over night. We'll see what you're got after they've dried."

Larkin sniffed at the stiff strands in her small hand. "They don't smell like themselves." She was laughing. "Mostly they smell like rain."

"Pine has a long-memory for themselves girlie. Give them some warm, and time to dry out, then you give that bounty a sniff." Gran had her own nob of a nose in the soup, sniffing for any of something that might be missing. "Bay leaves." A still-fresh branch of the aromatic leaves poked from the old grape wreath on the side of the outside cook house. She pulled a couple whole leaves and poked them into the top of freshly-chopped kale.

"Good enough." The soup lid in place Calypso thought of her only daughter, who would have been forty on Larkin's fourth birthday. She was close of course, the veil was thinnest tonight. Her name leaked from her thin dark lips, "Imagina." Larkin loved how her gran spoke her mother's name. It was one of the times her Spanish tongue seemed most delighted. "Imagina!" this time Calypso looked into her grandchild's bright brown face. "Tonight we make Pine Needle Dancers, and rattle the bones remembering your mother with soup and apple brandy ... her favorite apples proud to give her pleasure once again!"

Here's what happens next.