Living on a riverbank is living on the edge. It is an in-between space; not usually water, but not always land either. I’m not sure what I expected to find.
I remember when I first set eyes on this tiny house that was to become my home. My car rounded a bend in the road, and I saw the house perched on the edge of the river. It was a gloriously golden autumn day. The wind’s tart-apple breath scattered fallen leaves around my feet as I stepped out of the car. I did not immediately fall in love with the house, in fact, after seventeen years I still do not like it. Why would I buy a house I didn’t like?
It was the river who enchanted me. She seduced me into imagining myself sitting in my cozy chair, favorite cup of cinnamon tea in hand, enjoying the peaceful view. Of woods and water and wildlife…the graceful swans, lively ducks and opportunistic heron. The river sparkled with glamour as she bubbled musically for the graceful dryads dancing in their autumn cloaks. Oh, so romantic.
Only later did I learn that sometimes the view encroaches on my home.Red-eyed possums crawl up into the floorboards and shelter beneath my dishwasher. A family of raccoons furiously digs and argues underneath the house. The squirrels play soccer with my carefully planted marigolds.
After days of darkness and rain, the river herself sneaks up to my home and peers in at me. I can almost hear the accompanying narrator, “See the human in her natural habitat; a musty, warped wooden cottage.”I gaze out from my quavering cottage and into the unfathomable eyes of a shapeshifter. She is no longer the dryads’ shimmering friend who charmed me that first day.She would as easily drag them down as sing for them.
I am in her domain, and she insinuates herself into my dreams: I wake in utter darkness, swing my feet down to the floor and feel icy water surrounding my ankles.I back my car out of the driveway at night and suddenly realize that the car is floating away…
We came to an agreement years ago. The land my house sits on belongs to her. She will not come inside my house, but only if I continue to believe she will not.
One of my favorite May wildflowers is the "Mayapple". It grows in the woodlands where I live.
If you do not look carefully, you will miss the lovely flowers. They are underneath the leaves!
Mayapples are also called American mandrake, Umbrella plant, Hog-apple and Devil's apple. The roots, stems and leaves are poisonous to eat! But I have heard that when the tiny fruit develops late in June, a lemony-flavored jam can be made from it. I would love to know if any of you have tasted it.
Last night I had the good fortune of seeing The Gypsy Nomads play at the Magic Candle in Indianapolis. The Magic Candle is a wonderful shop packed with magical herbs, crystals, books and art. It was an intimate gathering, and I had so much fun. Jan, the owner of the shop, made everyone feel at home. It felt like an evening with friends.
Scott and Samantha performed a mix of their old and new songs. (I can’t wait for the new CD. There is going to be some great songs on there!)They shared some of their shakers and tambourines with the audience so we could play along with them. They also graciously played song requests.If you ever get a chance to see The Gypsy Nomads, I highly recommend it. Go out of your way to see them; you will love them. They are masters of high-energy magical music!
They are here on Enchanted Folk.
Or check out their website on My Space for their tour schedule. (Sorry guys, I couldn't get the link to work.)
Sometimes on my sojourns into Other realms I am astonished by the way time runs so differently. It seems even more incongruous when here the naked trees shiver beneath their icy coats, and certainly it was just a moment ago, I was enjoying the warm summer sun. How many seasons have passed? Other memories haunt me. Unlike Vegas, what happens in Faerie doesn't always stay there...
