Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," faerie-friendly since birth! Lead on, guiding sprites!
A physical therapist has been visiting my home to help me recover from surgery. Today he told me to try, if at all possible, not to walk on wet leaves.
Now I'm sitting here thinking of my beloved Polish Mountain, of the deep, sweet smell of the fallen leaves after a hard rain. They are slippery, but if I could just grab a handful of them at this moment, I'd crush them to my face and not stop inhaling until my lungs burst.
I'm thinking of a place called Sweet Root Gap, where the tumbled rocks are slippery all the time, either with moss or water, or both. The gap is so steep and rocky that it has never been timbered. It does not have a trail. You jump or crawl from rock to rock overtop a stream so clear that the pebbles in it look like diamonds.
Silly me. I thought I'd grown used to living in the flatlands, where the water runs uphill each time the tide comes in. Nope, it hasn't happened. I want to go home. I want to walk in the wet leaves. I want to take my chances on the slippery rocks. I'm not ready yet to say, "Those were the days."
Take my hand, Queen Brighid the Bright. Let us go together to the land of my birth. Help me make a staff and watch my step, because sometimes leaves get wet. And I want to walk.
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