Tiny winged vampires circle and land; the indoor/outdoor cats have their small cloud of admirers hovering over tender ears and noses, wherever the fur is thin and flesh is vulnerable. All creatures may indeed be sacred, but I will admit to sacrificing a few mosquitoes when they would do likewise!
The Smallwood is dark as dusk; the entry looks like a cave's mouth, and I head for home before the storm breaks. Moments later the wind howl and tears at the trees; rain sluices down in a flood that falls in sheets and obscures Siloam Mountain--as well as neighboring houses. Primal! I watch from the porch...
I did a video of the wind rising...no idea if it will open here if you're not on Facebook, though...sorry!
|The deck is covered with a mosaic of wet leaves in various stages of decomposition...|
In the evening, strange bits of light illuminate the shadows deep within the Smallwood...sometimes softly, edges blurred like wet-in-wet watercolor, sometimes sharp and crisp, a glittering contrast to the deepest shadows. One in particular, at this most fleeting moment, appear like the glowing eyes of some mysterious forest creature looking back at me from his cave.
Then the bright gaze fades into the tapestry of green, as though he'd closed his eyes for the night...when I go to investigate, there is nothing there.
They say you can only see the Fae of you look from the corner of your eye, or catch a fleeting glimpse, or from a distance, like the Spooklight in southern Missouri...and so it appears.
When I was younger, I would go for drives down country roads on summer nights. Moving slowly, sometimes my headlights would catch tiny glowing lights winking back like the eyes of a miniature fox or deer. I'd stop the car and walk forward until I could see a wee spider crossing the road, hoping I would let it be...and I always did.