A Sunday of Daffodils March 10
Sunday Louis and I went to the Mountain for a celebration up in Daffodil Meadow with Madie and Kenny. We drove the wonderfully short 1.5 hours trip, parked, and walked among the neutral browns and grays that come with a forest during this cold time of year. We arrived at their home, talked a bit then set out on a little mission. A short walk up the partially muddy road led to this…
…a meadow with a lush, green and yellow blanket of daffodils in bloom. Any small amount of sleepy-headedness I had from getting up at 8am on the day after a small drinking spree was washed away that instant. The four of us set out to pick some as part of the celebration of this beauty. No one knows how these flowers really got here. There are two meadows covered with these daffodils. The land where they grow is relatively flat, and as many have lived on the mountain for years we can only guess that a past resident had planted them and, over the years, they did what plants do - grow.
Slowly others begin to show, some in dresses, others in make up and all with smiles. The rest of the day was spent drinking wine, snacking, swapping stories, dodging the column of fire smoke and enjoying the brisk, crisp, cold day.
The above shot deserves some explanation. By The Way had “parked” in this spot when he showed up for the gathering. We were going to take some shots for the Gathering Call that Marcus was planning that included the mule-drawn cart. Mirror is currently trying to help convince the mules to walk backwards. Seems the mules were quite cozy as were and had no intensions of moving in a backwards manner.
By The Way finally had to unhook his babies and lead them up the road a bit. Three of us moved the cart into place and we all spent the next 30 minutes or so trying to get the mules, with other agendas, to get in line to reconnect. The mules seemed a bit nervous so Mirror did one of the most magical things I have seen. He had brought a lyre with him for that day and while the rest of us soothed and pet the mules, he stood in front of them and lightly strummed his lyre - a sound that filled the woods with the most subtle of beauty. Both mules perked up, paying full attention to Mirror and his music. They both reached out with their heads to nuzzle the lyre with their noses. One went so far as to lightly wiggle his lips across the strings, jutting his ears forward to the sounds he was making on this strange box. I tell you, this mule was playing the lyre knowingly. He kept rubbing his lips on the strings - so tenderly. All the while steady gusts of wind played through the trees with sunlight illuminating the hints of green peeking through the waking woods. I got misty.
Later the lot of us went to potluck at the Sanctuary with a full house of faeries that I haven’t seen in quite some time. By this point I was on the brink of unconsciousness due to two long stretches of wine consumption and no small amount of walking. I dove into helping dinner preparations and the night pressed on.
Was good to go back