"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.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
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.
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.
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