Awakening Read online

Awakening

  by

  Luna WhiteClaw

  Home

  The garden was a large affair with many trees scattered though out and neat garden beds with potatoes off all kinds and pumpkin of many varieties and sizes varying from golden little nugget sized ones and long pale yellow almost white skinned ones with sweet soft orange meat to deep orange very large fleshy ones dominating one large garden bed against one side of the boundary fence and neat smaller beds for carrots, beets, rhubarb, brussel sprouts, onions, garlic, cucumbers, lettuce and many more all in neat beds of their own. Along another fence line there were tomato plants neatly staked in one long row and another fence line had several large trellises with a choice of beans and peas making their way slowly to the top. Cherry, apple, plum, orange and lemon trees were scattered about and a very large old oak tree shaded the house. A smoke house was tucked away in a corner of the garden next to the wood shed, a well could be seen from the back door and several neat garden beds with herbs and spices such as rosemary, thyme, mint, lemongrass, ginger, basil, paprika and pepper, peppermint and spearmint as well as aloe vera and sage, coriander, oregano and vanilla all edged with dandelions and forget-me-nots.

  It was a garden where there was always something to do, a little weeding or digging to aerate and feed the soil with a little compost, trim and prune. A girl was weeding around the carrots and rhubarbs digging a little to loosen the soil and help them grow, humming to herself, digging her hands into the soil. She looked up in confusion, as if seeing everything for the first time. She looked down and saw her hands buried in soil. It felt so NICE with the moist coolness between her fingers and that musty earthy smell was so refreshing and felt like coming home. She heard a noise and looked around slowly and saw neat garden plots with carefully placed rock. As she looked towards the noise she spotted an old man with white shoulder length hair, once gold blond hair now white as snow, bending down and with his large hands to delicately pull some offending weeds. As he stood, the sun was behind and the broad shoulders of a hunter and marks man with the bow could clearly be seen, looked as if he was surrounded by a bright halo. Turning towards her he smiled and blew her a kiss which she caught and smiling rubbed into her cheek. With hands clutching soil she stood and walked towards him. As she approached, the old man stooped down smiling as she held out the soil. He took her hand and inhaled deeply as she then lowered her head and also inhaled deeply. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes, young sky blue into tired old grey, smile and nod. The moment was broken by a voice from the window calling that the evening meal was nearly ready and for them to come in and get cleaned up. The old man took her hand and they walked along the path to the house slowly, stopping at the garden trough to wash their hands and faces. Walking up stone steps and then through a door which is painted in bright colours, the smell of the evening meal of a hearty vegetable stew with fried bacon and onion and freshly baked bread, assaulted their noses making their tummies growl like two hungry bears. As they moved further into the spacious kitchen, a large pot seemed to be walking towards them, the old man lifted the pot to reveal a small lady. With a kindly smile which showed her two gold teeth she shuffled over to the serving bench. The girl took the cutlery which was already waiting for her and walked into the next room, as she walked out of the kitchen she could hear the old lady mumbling in a sing song voice as she was serving up the food on their plates. In the next room there was a massive oval table covered with a cream embroidered table cloth that had the prettiest gold fringe. She placed the cutlery in their appropriate places then sat in her seat and patiently waited, looking around the familiar room where everything that ever happened in this home was in here or the kitchen.

  As the old woman bent with age shuffle in with the plates laden with delicious food the old man walked over to the big cabinet against the far wall, opening the big door on with the delicately painted oak tree on the left and took down with the large three pronged candelabra placing it gently and reverence every so lovingly in the center of the table. Whilst he was doing that the old lady had gone back into the kitchen and brought back a dark cane basket with a beautiful white cloth embroidered with golden corn stalks and yellow sunflowers. The steam from the freshly baked bread was rising through the embroidery like mist rises in the morning off the fresh snow. Setting the basket on the table the old woman produced matches from her spacious and numerous apron pockets, they all became silent as she lit the white, red and black candles and placed a small bread roll specifically baked at the foot of the candelabra saying;

  “From forest and stream; From mountain and field; From the fertile Earth's nourishing yield; We now partake of divine energy; May it lend health strength and love to us. Blessed Be”. They then proceeded to enjoy the wonderful food provided by the garden so lovingly tended by all.

  After the meal was completed and everything was cleaned up it was time to sit at the big oval table with the candles in the candelabra as the main lighting. This time it was to listen to stories and to sing. The old woman brought out her darning basket, made of dark twigs inter woven in an odd shape which resembled a bent over jug more than a basket, and then went in search for the socks and other things which need mending. Her long delicate fingers finding the objects of her desire then set to work in an agility belying her great age darning socks in such a way it could never be seen where the repair was made. The old man would light the wood in the hearth and then sit in his big, soft, threadbare chair. He made the chair look like a throne when he sat so relaxed yet still so tall and regal. Sitting at his feet on a big cushion as threadbare as the chair she wriggled until she had clear view of her grandmother who had a smaller more delicate but identical chair in which she looked like a queen in the girls eyes.

  That evening began as they usually did with the grandfather telling the grandmother what was happening in his vegetable garden. There were seeds popping and small green delicate seedlings emerging, the fruit trees were budding and a bee hive was being built in the old wood shed, which were actually only a few bits of wood stacked together. The grandmother would listen intently nodding her head while mending a torn sleeve. She had a patch near the back door which led to the kitchen where she grew her herbs. The conversation turned to the actual season and all the magical events that would take place during that time of year. The grandfather began to talk about the Faery Queen and that she must be due to hold her spring festival. The grandmother was becoming very agitated and changed the subject into a story about spring cleaning and how things, when the grandmothers grandmother was a girl were done and why. Sensing a wonderful story the girl crawled onto her grandfather’s lap.

  In the olden days, the grandmother started......when my grandmother was just a girl and spring came, it was a time for celebration. The winter freeze was survived and they were alive and a new beginning was on its way. The whole village would clean out their huts by dragging all the old dirty straw, which was used to keep the floor warm, into the center of the village. They would scrub, sweep, scrape and dig until the whole village was clean by the end of the day. That evening the whole village would gather at the pile of straw and dirt and they would throw the twig brooms and scrubbing rags onto the pile and then the oldest woman in the village lit the straw and began to sing a song of thanks and praise as the village joined in song and dance. The women would go and get food which was prepared during the day and the whole village feasted in celebration of spring survival and new beginnings.

  By the time the grandmother had finished the story the girl was falling asleep on the grandfather’s lap. Gently being woken and led by the hand to the bedroom, which once was her mothers, the girl was helped by her grandmother into a soft warm night gown and the girl felt secure in the knowledge that she was safe and
loved unconditionally. As she slipped under the blanket her grandmother opened the curtains to let the brilliant light of the moon enter the room. The grandmother bent down and said a small prayer;

  “O Gracious Goddess; O Gracious God; She now enters the realm of dreams; Weave now, it You will, weave a web of protective light around her.” she then kissed the girl first on cheeks, then the forehead, then the eyelids and lastly a gentle kiss on the lips. The girl could smell all sorts of wonderful things such as lavender, mint, lemon grass, roses and then there was that smell she could never quite identify, it tugged at a long forgotten memory but it always slipped just out of reach. The girl snuggled down under the big feather blanket and began to dream......