I went on a hunt for sightings and discoveries right in the heart of my woods this afternoon. The mellow light of October was streaming down through tired canopies and lower branches where, leaves swirling down from higher up get caught, and form their very own canopies.
Birds were nowhere to be seen, and I’m conjecturing that racoons and squirrels, too, have already packed away their summer things in cute little flowery luggage, and travelled far. Until the new spring returns to the land.
Upon arriving to that part of the woods where a clearing opens up and light fully illuminates the grounds, I found the most strangest of things…
...and right by it... oh, I found the strangest of all things... a freshly cut hydrangea bloom and a cup of coffee. Still hot. Steam was coming up from it in little swirls that went up and up, and up until it formed a mini cloud almost above my head. Then, puff! The cloud instantly condensed against the chilly air.
Oh, I felt terrible for having disturbed what was about to be a wonderful time for someone, just right here. Imagine, being immersed in nature with a cup of coffee; feeling the ground underneath your feet as you focus on being present and enjoy your environment and the scenery… I couldn't imagine interrupting such lovely thoughts!
But then, that’s when I heard it… a rustle among the leaves, a soft fluttering or crackling sounds… leaves rustled in the breeze and, down the edge of the woods towards the gardens, that’s where I found her…
A woman all dressed in black sitting on a stump. Her eyes closed. Her mind far far away... so it seemed. Who was she? I had to wonder. The witch who lives in my woods, perhaps? She seemed to be channeling some higher Spirit in nature or something like that. But then, something startled her… she stood up, and proceeded to survey the area around her, as if looking for something... or someone?
Oh dear me, was I in trouble? I figured that maybe she instinctively knew someone was spying on her? I know I do that all the time. But what was I to do now? I hold my breath in as best I could, and tried to become very small... a teeny tiny of a thing part of the woods of sorts. Just to escape from her.
The woods looked so lovely at that time of the day. Each moment opened up a new door, a new poem, it bestowed new graces, new dreams to dreams and hold onto, new songs to be sung with the heart of the soul. It is no wonder the witch didn’t seem to be disturbed by my presence at all.
She didn’t look being frightened by anything either. In fact, she was getting ready for a foot bath bliss time! Yes yes… a foot bath from heel to toes in her one of a kind deluxe foot spa! A birdbath of all things!! That is, a birdbath bursting with rotten leaves and debris and soil and yikes!! Now, don’t ask me why would anyone do something like that. All I can say is, “a witch is a witch". And, "who can understand a witch!”
But let's not be too harsh on her, shall we… maybe she was just taking a little detox clay foot bath her own way? They are one of the most effective and beneficial detoxification methods ever, you know. I once read that doing clay foot baths can draw a lot of toxicity directly out of the body. Although, I wouldn’t think using a birdbath for that matter… at least, order some high-quality clay! Like bentonite. OK. ;)
I’m just glad I’d finally got to meet this witch who lives in my woods… even if it is just when I’m leaving. Perhaps, she would move with me to the house in the roses and make for herself a little house among the petals, so that I can see her wandering around from time to time? Or would you think she’d much rather prefer living on this picturesque area, filled with magic and history? A land where, long ago, lived a group of people who were forced out of their land forever. I’m referring to the Cherokee Native American tribe. They were forced out and many perished on the infamous "Trail of Tears" on their trek to Oklahoma.
We happened to live just a few feet down the road where the trail of tears begins… This town is home to the Cherokees. So much history contained here, so much enchantment and mystery grounded on this land. Just only yesterday on my way home from Walmart, I happened to see a man walking down the road, a direct descendant of those Cherokees, and I could not but wondered how many of them are still here, how many more buried here, how many of them lived right here, in these very same woods skirting our little white cottage?
If I’d be that witch who lives in my woods I would not want to move to the city any more than the Cherokee people wanted out of their own land. So, I suppose she stays here… or at least, part of her forever will. And that, I know.