On the edge of a tall pine forest, I look out on to a wide isolated hill-top meadow, the hissing in my ears of tall grasses as they wave to and fro.
Alone but not lonely, I find myself in God’s Garden…a patch of perfection, for now, only known unto Him and I…I think I like it that way.
As I peer, not yet ready to pounce, I spy a chaotic pattern of wild flowers springing up in between the grasses - priests-in-a-pulpit, wild buttercups and iris, lilies-of-the-valley…
Bumble Bees buzzing about. I am not afraid of them. They fly around me on their way. They have a busy day ahead of them. Maybe I do too.
I hesitate leaving the edge of my pine canopy, for it’s cool and fresh…a known place…but the meadow calls to me…unknown but filled with possibilities…I hear a babbling brook in the distance and my need to play in water over-powers my need for shade and protection.
Shorts and a light summer top are the fare of the day, my hair tied back in an olive green silk ribbon.
I could have worn a summer dress, this picture begs for me to be in one, but the reality of me on this soft summer’s day requires shorts, for I shall bend and crouch and kneel and stoop, snooping into all nature has to offer…it’s just a shorts kind of day.
There is no path. I shall make one. I fear trampling the grasses and the wild flowers. Humans are so invasive.
One step after another, further afield I go. I hear ducklings, I think, and the odd bull frog…my water quest has to be near.
I happen upon some trampled ground, grasses long since flattened, not by Man, by beast, I think. That’s okay, I accept that kind of use. Tufts of baby-fine fur, maybe a doe and her “Bambi” baby? I cannot be sure, makes no matter to me. I lie down where they had been, just to see if I can see and feel what they saw and felt. It’s hard to be an animal of the type you aren’t. The sky is above, saying nothing, giving nothing away. It’s okay.
A daisy chain is de rigeur on a day like today, so as I sprawl, I weave…geez, is this a female God-given talent, I’ve never made one before but am I ever good at it!
Plop it goes, on my head, no one can see, who cares..but I wanna see.
Get up I do, my quest for that glassy liquid again in my mind.
As I stand once more, still, I slowly turn on my heels in a circle, checking to see I do not know…no one, nothing around to ruin the day. I am now in the middle of this perfect place and no one knows but me. I like it that way. Wonder if I’d feel the same way once nightfall arrives?
Shedding that thought as easily as it entered, I walk and as I do, some boulders, first one, than several…I am getting close.
A slow-moving brook, just as I thought…reedy on the edges, the odd grass-hopper and black beetle…today, I don’t squirm…they look like they belong.
As I try to pull back my hair, the breeze playing havoc with my strands, I crouch at the water’s edge and gaze into the slow-moving liquid pool.
Mirror, Mirror, on the ground, if in I gaze, what will be found?
In I gaze.
Geez, I'm pretty. *snicker*
Ah nah, it’s just the daisy chain…it would make Miss Piggy look like Pamela Anderson too…
Gazing and day-dreaming…utterly in the moment…
…and then a shadow.
Looms large and complete. Is a storm brewing? I don’t feel cold…my image in the water is completely obliterated by its blackness.
I turn around, without a sound, and before me a giant Grizzly bear, glaring down at me, on his hind legs, a low kind of growl beginning to boil.
My mouth wide open, I want to scream. Nothing comes out.
He leans in with two gigantic paws placed on either side of my arms, he picks me up, light as a leaf, into a standing position. I am paralyzed with fear, my eyes as big as saucers, I’m sure, breath shallow but fiercely quick. No movement, no noise, I am catatonic with fear.
He bends to my height as I fear I am to be his midday snack, his tongue, rough, with an odd sugary scent, springs forth and licks me on my cheek.
A bear hug came next.
I’ve never had a REAL bear hug before…wonder if I’ll live long enough to tell anyone?
I survive the lick and the hug only to have his paws thrust into my hands a big box of Smarties. I look in the opened box. All there, all intact, no slobbering in or on the box at all…all except the Red Ones…the ones that everyone knows makes you smart…they are gone.
The growl is replaced by a satisfied grizzly bark and falling down on all fours he bounds away in the direction of the pine forest, using my path now as his, so fast, yet hardly making a noise, as deathly quiet as he arrived, I guess.
I hate smart bears with picky appetites, don’t you?