The Shadows of Tall Trees

The Dreaming Tree

As Ostara and Jokul had climbed up (and fallen down from) the trees in the grove, they left their brushstrokes on the landscape. It was quite a sight as Ostara looked around the forest, bright and bold. Fanciful trees dotted the hillsides all around them.
Within the confines of the many-colored forest, it became hard for Ostara to find her way.
“Jokul, have you seen my tree?”
“Your tree? Which tree is your tree?”
“The tree where I once hid and you found me.”
“Oh, that tree,” he said. They had played hide-and-seek so many times that Jokul had no idea of which tree she spoke. “I am not sure. I think it is over there,” said Jokul. He waved his hand toward the top of the hill.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Not really. No, not at all.”
They hiked up the hill to the clearing where Ostara’s dreaming tree stood. Although his directions were accurate, there were several trees that looked identical. Ostara’s touch had found several trees on the hill.
“Is this your tree?” asked Jokul.
“I am not sure,” said Ostara. She wandered from one bright green tree to the next. She sat down beside each tree, fitting her body against the trunk. Not one of the trees seemed to fit just right.
“I am not sure this is the hill of my dreaming tree.”
High on the hill, a tree bent crookedly, its branches hanging awwardly over the ridge. Jokul pressed his hands against the tree. He flattened out his hands and rubbed them over the tree trunk. Knots and bends in the tree disappeared under his touch. He patted the roots flat and stepped back.
“Here, try this one,” he directed.
“This isn’t my tree,” answered Ostara.
“Just try it.”
Ostara sat against the tree. Comfortable, she settled down, ready for a nap. The sun shone above and the lake rippled below. Jokul reached up to a tree branch and plucked a leaf from one of its boughs.
“Here,” he said. Jokul pressed the leaf against Ostara’s tiny hand. He traced a line around the leaf and peeled it from her hand. Now the leaf had one big lobe and a smaller one, like a thumb.
“This tree is yours,” he said as he put the new leaf back in its place. The rest of the leaves in the tree changed shape, too. Each one, like a tiny bright green mitten. They were perfect copies of Ostara’s cupped hand.
“Here,” he said. He pressed another leaf into her hand. He pulled at her pinky finger, separating it from the other fingers. There were now three lobes – one big and two small ones, just like a hand with an extended pinky and an extended thumb. He replaced that leaf, too.
“Now you have a tree you can call your very own. It is unlike all the others. The leaves, like hands, wave in the breeze as you pass them by.
“It’s a lovely gesture,” said Ostara, “What shall we call this tree?”
Jokul stood next to Ostara, thinking of a name. As he did, the wind began to whistle with a slithering S sound.
“Sass-a-frass,” suggested Jokul.
“Sass-a-frass,” repeated Ostara, “I love it. My very own Sassafras tree.”
They sat side-by-side at the base of the tree. Whenever the wind blew, it whistled through the leaves, reminding Ostara of its name.
“Sassafras.”
They closed their eyes and dreamt of the grove.

The Man Who Paints the Trees

Jokul had never felt as overjoyed as at this very moment, After a bright green dream, the world around him was painted in every shade of green, from the darkest darks to the the lightest lights.

Ostara's imgaination lit the grove the previous night. Before that, all was dark and dull. Her smile vibrated within the spirit of each tree she touched. After a restful sleep, Jokul and Ostara wandered through the forest, enjoying the wondrous works they had created.
"Do you remember when you dreamed of me?” asked Ostara.
“How could I forget? You shimmered in shades of red and gold as you stood in the sunlight.”
“Don’t you wish you could do that to the trees?”
“Isn’t the green you dreamed enough to brighten the forest?”
“I think there should be more,” said Ostara.
Jokul thought to himself for a moment. He looked down at his fingers and then up at a low-lying branch on the tree. He touched his pointer finger to a leaf. It shimmered and changed from green to gold.
“As you wish,” he said.
“I like it. Do it again.”
Jokul reached out, touching his pointer finger to the tips of leaves. One by one, they turned, like blushing golden faces. Jokul paused for Ostara’s appoval.
“More!” she said as she bathed in the glow of the golden tree. He bent down and gathered a handful of dust. He pressed it tightly in his fist and then opened his hand. With his fingers pointed sharply outward, he held his hand just in front of his nose and exhaled with a great breath. A golden mist sprayed through the air, fluttering in the breeze. Dust particles landed on the outstretched leaves.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It is amazing,” she said.
“It’s just the breath of a dream,” said Jokul. He surveyed his newest masterpiece, a work of pure amazingness. Indeed, it was like nothing either of them had ever seen. The tree stood alone, as bright as the sun, yet as subtle as the old green trees, too.
Ostara reached out, taking Jokul Frosti by the hand. While her grasp was sweaty and warm, Jokul’s fingers chilled her.
“You’re so cold,” she said.
“I know.”
Her grasp, warm and tender, filled Jokul’s cold heart. He tagged along as she pulled him through the forest. His free hand trailed behind him, catching stray branches and pushing them out of the way. As he did, the leaves on each tree he touched from green to gold.
Likewise, Ostara reached out a freehand and dragged it across branches that lie in their way. A pathway formed in the woods. On one side, there were trees of gold, and on the other stood trees of the brightest green.
“Let us go tree-climbing,” suggested Ostara. She let loose of Jokul’s grasp and reached out to a high branch that she could not reach.
“Here, let me help you.”
Jokul intertwined the fingers on his hands and held them out, like a foot-basket. Ostara carefully tucked her foot into his hands as he lifted her up. She grabbed onto the lowest branch and pulled herself up.
“Here,” she said. Her hand reached down. Instead, Jokul simply crouched down and bounced up, grabbing onto the branch with both hands. He swung back and forth, then did flipped himself onto the branch next to Ostara.
As they climbed, higher and higher, the treetop swayed beneath their weight. Far below them, they could see the colors of trees, old and new.
Their climbing-tree, however, was many-colored. Some branches were old green and others were bright and new. Still, the leaves on other branches were bright gold.
“Look at our fancy design!” said Ostara. Jokul hopped off his branch and onto another. It shimmered and turned gold. Ostara hopped onto an old branch. The leaves shimmered and turned from dark to bright.
Jokul stepped carefully onto another branch and it wavered. He waved his hands in the air, trying to keep his balance. A foot slipped and he fell, down, down, down. His feet bounced upon a bending branch and tossed him, high into the air.
Jokul flew from one tree to another. He reached out, but missed the branches on the nearby tree. He bounced through the limbs, one-two-three and plopped to the ground.
“Are you okay?” shouted Ostara.
Jokul looked up from his spot on the ground and then hid his face. Like his face, the leaves on the tree turned crimson red.
“Are you blushing, my dearest Jokul?”
“No!” he called back.
Ostara climbed carefully through the branches of the green and gold tree. Down on the ground, Jokul buried his face in his arms. Only the points on his ears showed. They, too, were crimson red.
“Don’t worry,” said Ostara.She stretched a finger to his chin and pulled his face from the security of his folded arms. After the great fall, his face had blushed. And so it went, that whenever Jokul and Ostara climbed trees and either of them had a great fall, the trees blushed, like the face of a fallen tree-climber.

Way Deep in a Dark Wood

Ostara floated through the air on her very personal cloud. Meanwhile, Jokul sat atop a cloud of his very own, his legs folded, his hands upon his knees. His gaze followed something far below the clouds. He studied children as they climbed through the trees.
Like Ostara and Jokul, the children found themselves enjoying the magnificent playground within in the forest.
"Jokul, what are you thinking?" asked Ostara.
"To be a child must be a grand thing."
"I agree whole-heartedly."
"It wears me out just to watch them play."
Jokul climbed down from his cloud, using a mountain as a step-stool. Ostara stretched out a hand. He helped her off her cloud. They descended the rocky mountain together. At the bottom, he found a patch of grass and laid down.
“What are you thinking about, Jokul?”
“The color green,” he replied.
“Why green?”
“Everything in the forest is green.”
“What would you like it to be? Green is the color of nature.”
“But it isn’t enough,” he said.
“Then what?”
“I think the grass should be one color of green and the tree leaves should be another color.”
“Why change the world?”
“Why not?” answered Jokul.
“I don’t know,” she replied.
Jokul looked all about, wondering what the grove would look like in a color beside the forest green he had always known. Jokul laid down, his body swallowed in the tall grass.
"I think I shall sleep," he said.
“Okay,” said Ostara. As he rested, she combed his hair to one side and planted a kiss upon his forehead. "Sweet dreams," she said.
While Jokul slept, Ostara walked through the forest. In his dreams, he saw her, alone, way deep in a dark wood.
Jokul followed closely behind her. At times, she preferred to walk alone. During those times, he let her wander freely. He always walked a good distance behind her, not too close and not too far away.
He took great joy watching her venture among the trees. Exploring the grove was among her favorite past-times. She ran her hands over tree limbs.
With each new tree, her skin changed moods. With a shimmer, it changed from brown to gray to green to brown again. Rays of sunlight reflected off her hair in shades of electric yellow
"How wondrous is the forest?" asked Ostara.
“Very much so,” said Jokul.
As Jokul stood in the middle of the forest, Ostara walked down a crooked path. Her hand waved across a tree limb. The leaves turned bright green. Jokul watched, as one individual tree glowed in the darkness. Ostara continued walking along, running her outstretched hands along tree limbs. Each tree shook under her touch. Each leaf changed from dark to bright.
“Ostara! Turn around!” he called.
Behind her, a line of bright green trees marked her path. She smiled, then disappeared from view. Jokul chased her through the grove. She lit the leaves with the magic of her touch.
Ostara hid at the top of the hill, her back pressed against the trunk of a tree. Jokul tiptoed between the bright green trees until he reached the top of the hill, too. Jokul placed a hand upon Ostara’s shoulder. Ostara shivered and the tree shivered, too. Each leave turned the brightest shade of green either of them had ever seen.
“Your turn to be the seeker,” he said.
With a twist and a jump, Jokul darted into the darkness of the forest. He found a bright tree and stepped behind it. The leaves turned dark as he rested his hands upon the tree trunk. He lifted his hands for a moment and the bright leaves returned.
Jokul danced through the trees and found another hiding spot, further away. He crouched low, pressing his back against the trunk of the tree.
Ostara’s shadow cut through the grove, passing the bright green trees. He held his breath and closed his eyes as she came closer.
Whenever it was Ostara’s turn to play seeker, she sang a soft lullaby. Jokul could hear it, even within his dreams. He stayed there, both eyes closed. A single finger reached around the tree and found a target.
Jokul jumped upright. Ostara had startled him from a dream.
“Did I scare you?” she asked.
“Not too much. I dreamt we were playing hide-and-seek.”
“Maybe you weren’t dreaming,” she said.Jokul looked up from his place next to the tree. Some trees were dark and some trees were bright. Now, he wasn’t sure if he was in a dream or awake. For Jokul, it really didn’t matter, because he had the comfort of Ostara by his side.

autumnsfall

Contrary to popular belief, winter actually begins in autumn, which actually begins in summer, and so on, and so on…
Autumnsfall wraps itself in the smell of burning leaves and October campfires. A tapestry of leaves, dull and bright, fills the summer canvas as they change from green to red to a golden brown. It marks the descent of leaves from their summer nests. They carpet the earth with their crunchy shells.
Each day is shorter than the last. Each day is colder, too. Animals scamper to and fro, making final preparations for the long winter ahead. Acorns fall from high above. Some are lost and some are found. Those that are found keep the forest animals safe for another long winter. Those that are lost plant themselves in the ground, only to reappear the next spring as brand new trees.
Autumnsfall is also the time we are reminded that as the days grow shorter, we’re struggling to hold on before the days pass us by.

Wide Awake in Dreamland

Two sprites, clever and quick, darted through a verdant and stately wood, jumping from bough-to-bough as they played a game of hide-and-go-seek. The tails of their olive-jade overcoats sailed on the shoulders of the wind and shimmered in the evening hours’ thinning light.

“What is his name?” you may ask.

Jokul Frosti.

“And what’s her name?”

Ostara Blumen.

You may know them as high elves or wood elves or water elves or wind elves. They are all this and none of this at all, but we will get to that later. For now, let us talk about these two. They were best of friends and most passionate of lovers.

"Jokul!" she called.

"Yes, dear?”

"Where are you?" she called again.

"Over here!”

“Where?” she called again.

Jokul twitched his wings, which were silver and lace-like. Sunlight sparked off their glossy tips and glinted brilliantly.

"I see you!" she said as she darted towards her friend. Jokul jumped twig-to-twig, keeping just clear of Ostara's grasp.

Some days, it was hide-and-go-seek, some days, it was a game of tag, and still other days, it was adventuring the grove hand-in-hand. Regardless of the game, every day they were together was a good day indeed.

When Ostara finally caught Jokul, he was laying on the craggy bare roots of an old Shag-oak, resting comfortably in the shade.

“There you are!” Ostara exclaimed as she flittered up beside Jokul and collapsed in a thick patch of moss.

“Today is the greatest day!” he said.

“You always say that,” she replied.

“Today is different, though. I had the most magnificent dream.”

“Oh! Please do tell!”

“If you insist,” said Jokul.

“I do insist. I do. I do.”

Jokul pulled himself to a seated position. He pressed his back against the trunk of the old Shag-oak. As Jokul spoke, Ostara gazed toward the sky.

“In this dream, we were playing the forest.”

“I was in this dream?”

“Of course you were…”

“…and what were we playing?”

“Hide-and-seek, of course.”

“Who was the hider and who was the seeker?”

“I was the hider, of course.”

“Where were you hiding?”

“In one of your favorite places – in the high branches of an old green tree. I stretched my arms up high imitating the shape of the tall, thin trunk.”

Ostara’s ears perked up as Jokul described his dream in great detail.

“While I stood there, you walked through the grove along a dusty trail. You kept calling for me, but I would not answer. Instead, I just kept watching you.”

“How did I finally find you?”

“You simply closed my eyes and thought of me. It was so intense that my wings began to shimmer. They  changed color, from green to silver to blue and back to green again. Right then, you found me.”

“That is quite some dream,” said Ostara, “I wish I could dream like that.”

“Maybe you can,” said Jokul.

“I don’t think so.”

“Just close your eyes and think about something right before you fall asleep. If you can imagine it, you will surely dream it.”

Ostara pressed her eyes closed and concentrated on Jokul’s dream. Even when she daydreamed, her thoughts were nothing fancy, like Jokul’s.

“I can’t do it,” she groaned.

“Yes you can, just be patient.”

“Still nothing,” said Ostara.

“Okay, open your eyes!”

She opened her eyes and looked down at her overcoat. It glowed in a shimmer of silvery-pink. A smile lit up her face.

“I did it!” she exclaimed.

“Of course you did.”

“How did I do it?”

“You just followed your dream.”

“I guess I did.”

“Dreams are wondrous things. Without dreams, what would we have?” asked Jokul.

“I don’t know.”

 “Without dreams, we would have nothing,” said Jokul.

Jokul closed his eyes and concentrated. His body shimmered and rippled like water. Suddenly, it was as if he vanished into thin air.

“Where did you go?” called Ostara. She reached towards the place where Jokul had been sitting, but there was no one there. On the first low branch just above her, Jokul shimmered and appeared again.

“Here I am!” he said.

He jumped off the branch and softly landed on the ground beside Ostara. His green overcoat blended with the colors of the forest. Then, his wings flittered and he quickly darted away. He was the hider and Ostara was the seeker. She ran after him until darkness fell upon the grove. Then, as the last traces of light disappeared from the grove, they returned to the mossy patch under the old Shag-oak and laid their heads down for a dream.