Windsong

I ended the summer season of '93 the same way as I started it; by going to the land. It was a warm damp day when I first visited in the late spring and as you know I fell in love with it on sight. I spent weeks there during the summer and became at peace with the surroundings and the various non-human co-habitors who were sharing Windsong and Avalon with me. Many people visited the land and I hope that they felt the same sense of one-ness with the Earth that I did.
It is now October 8th, and I have just returned from a flying visit there to close things down for the winter. The radio said snow would fall, instead, I felt, saw and heard ice hitting me and the tarp roof of the kitchen. Windsong today was cold and strangely quiet, the winged and four-legged people that I had lived with during the summer months have put themselves to bed in their cosy nests and dens until they can emerge without fear of freezing. I guess many of the marshmallows which I gifted to the Chipmunks are lining either their nests or their tummy's! The dragonflies and their food supply, the mosquitos, have gone. Leaves are blanketing the plants, the apple tree, (which the Wilderness Awareness School gave me,) is surviving nicely and the earth lodge is warm and welcoming. I was sorry I couldn't stay for a longer time, but I had to get back to my new home and the outside world. I said goodbye to the place of Wakan and beauty for a while and asked the Spirits of the Land to watch over it for me again. It felt as if I were leaving a friend, as I realize how fortunate I am able to live this dream.

Written by Gloria Hazell ©1993  

 

Sunset

Coming back from Windsong one day, I was lucky enough to behold a wonderful sunset. At first it looked like any other, with no distinguishing characteristics to it, then a large dark cloud formed above the Sun and stayed there. As the brilliant orb slipped lower, so the sky gave birth to a kaleidoscope of collective hues stretching from the palest pink to the brightest cerise. As I wtched the sky turn darker I also saw tiny sparks of red begin to dot the cloud, gradually the sparks grew larger and materialized as camp fires. I then saw the Ancient Ones sitting round these fires, all people, all colors, all races, all sitting peacefully, laughing, talking and passing their knowledge on to those who wished to listen. the Gathering was to pay homage to Father Sun who was retiring from this part of the world for a while. As the fires became brighter I watched in wonder, as if I were sitting there among them listening to the old Grand-parents telling their tales and speaking their wisdom. I nodded and smiled and the whole sky became one with the fires, flames grew brighter, colors stronger and the music of sight was wondrous to my eyes. the Sun moved slowly downwards and the fires blazed with more intensity, the word drums became deafening and stories reached a crescendo. Then laughter became stilled and hearts became one, with the glory of the Creator's willingness to make such brilliance for mere mortals to see and sometimes wonder at.

Tales at an end, Sun almost down, the fires burned themselves out and along with them the cloud dissipated into a nothingness, the Ancient Ones left too until the next time. When I came out of the trance like reverie I looked around and color was surrounding me, the sky was blushed with a rouge of rose, the snow on the prairie was bathed with the glow of the almost sleeping Sun. It was beautiful. Gradually, very slowly, the color left the sky, until at one point a burst of red fused itself into the picture - could it be that the retiree couldn't quite let go of his hold? The horizon was laid with fireworks of color, a grand finale to a superb display of nature, then the sky became quietly dark and the nocturnal hours were finally passed over to Grandmother Moon to care for, hers until tomorrow's dawn.

Written by Gloria Hazell © 1993