(working inspired by the ‘7 Days of Rest and Radiant Diversity 2020‘ global, online, earth healing, experiment)

It shone.
A bright quartz on the dark, wet, track, on a dark, wet, day.
I picked it up and it warmed in my palm.
It came with me in my pocket.

I walked into the fast dusk.
I did not know where I was going.
Walking slowly.
Listening to the wind.
Suddenly some trees in the forest creaked, like a whining dog.
I stopped and pricked my ears.
There it was again! So like an animal in pain.
But this forest creaks like this in wind often.
The brittle, sitka, wind-blown ‘saw’ against their neighbours.
It was a steep, difficult, climb in the direction of the noise, so I waited to be be sure.
Perhaps this was to be my encounter!?
I listened for a while to check that it was not a wounded creature.
A crow called.
It was the trees.
The cry came in time with the bitter gusts of wind.
I walked towards the quarry pond.
The wind rattled the corrugated iron on the old barn. It clanked.
This air was so fresh.
Everything was dancing in the wind.
For one minute, from the corner of my eye, I saw the ghost of my old dog.
Rushing ahead of me. White and fast. Following the scent from one side of the track to the other.
I miss him still.
The pond’s surface flashed as gusts of ripples broke its glass.
No herons today.
The goat willow seedlings grow though the stones, like stars, here.
Staying low to the ground, under this big, wild, sky.
I found a nook out of the wind.
A nest, inside a river willow.
On the leeward side of a mossy buff.
I lay down and closed my eyes.
The wind sang all around in different places, in different tones.
In the forest it was wild and deep, with creaks and groans.
From the seaward side it rolled around the buff that sheltered me, in higher, seeking, tones.
But I was hidden. Out of reach.
Cooried in to mosses and rock, shielded by goat willow.
Whose upper branches flicked and tapped against the sky.
It was warm.
All I could smell was humus and moisture and the sea.
I almost fell asleep there.

When I got back I edited the photos.
I made a mandala from one of my moss portraits.

moss mandala

Then I thought I saw her.


This was my encounter!

I call her
Moss Caller.

Moss Caller
pencil sketch

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