Anna’s breathing had become rapid and she could hear her
heartbeat pounding inside of her ears as she reached the top of the long,
steep, sandy trail. She leaned forward,
hands on her thighs and gulped in the air until her breathing slowed down. Then she raised her head up and looked out
from her high vantage point. Georgian
Bay spread out before her with its rocky islands and windswept White Pine
trees. The lake was dark blue as the
wind swept it into waves that were too rough to reflect the low grey clouds racing
over them. Anna was glad for the wind
that cooled her reddened face and brought relief to her aging body.
Relief was what she was looking for, but not just from the
strain of climbing the hill. There was
still a storm raging inside of her that needed attention. She took the trail that ran north along the
edge of the ridge. She knew what she was
looking for and within a few minutes she had arrived. The tree before her was not very tall, yet it
looked ancient. The twisted grey bark on
the trunk and the impenetrable maze of branches seemed daunting yet she had
felt the pull of this tree from down below in the village where she lived.
This Hawthorn was in blossom and the leaves were just
unfurled but still small. Anna brought
her nose to the five petaled white flowers and inhaled deeply. She knew that this tree carried a substance
that dilated the left ascending coronary artery that brought food and oxygen to
her heart muscle. After the climb, this
might be a good thing. She noticed as
she breathed in that her chest felt tight.
That was not surprising, considering the deep sadness that gripped her
heart and clenched her abdomen. It had
taken over her brain and her body and now seemed to be in charge of making
decisions as well. But, the Hawthorn had
called her, over and over again and finally she had collected her will enough
to make the climb.
Anna scanned the branches until she found one of the long
sharp thorns. She placed her thumb on
the sharp tip and tested it. It could
easily draw blood. She welcomed the
sensation on her thumb. It distracted
her from the emotional pain inside of her. Then,
she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled very slowly and carefully under
the lowest branches until she reached the trunk. Twisting to look around, she found that there
was enough space for her to sit with her back up against the trunk of the tree
which she carefully managed to do. From
her new vantage point, Anna looked out through the leaves and flowers to the
water far below and took some slow breaths in.
She imagined the oxygen in the air making its way easily to her
heart. She felt safe, hidden here behind
the thorny wall of branches. She
understood why people had used these trees to create hedges instead of wooden
or stone fences. The old word for hedge,
haeg, had become haw over time.
Hearing a small rustle above her, Anna slowly looked
up. She could just make out the sticks
and grasses of what looked like a Robin’s nest high above her. The Robin’s tail feathers stuck out from the
edge of the nest and she could see them moving as the Robin settled herself on
what she imagined were turquoise eggs.
Anna wasn’t the only one taking refuge.
As she watched the Robin, her eye was drawn to a long piece
of what looked to be red wool. It was
wound around a branch like thread on a bobbin and in the centre of this
creation hung a tiny bell. Anna knew
that in Ireland, Hawthorn trees were called Wishing Trees and that people tied “clotties”
made from cloth, wool and trinkets, onto their branches to make wishes, prayers
and offerings to the Fairy people. The
Fairies were said to live under Hawthorns, especially those that grew on a
hill.
Leaning her head up against the trunk, Anna closed her eyes
and breathed in the scent of the flowers.
Her chest still felt tight and the grief began to bubble up. Salty tears
flowed down her face as she sobbed. It
felt as though it would never end, as though she would be heartbroken for ever
as the feelings, unfettered now, flooded up in waves. But, as was always the case, eventually, the
waves died down and the crying ended.
Anna felt exhausted and broken open, so she succumbed to sleep, still
leaning up against the Hawthorn trunk.
She had only been sleeping for a few minutes when a large
rock beside her began to move sideways revealing an opening into the
earth. Tiny people then emerged from
this hole and began to climb up into the branches of the tree. They were dressed in clothing made from
leaves with flowers for hats and necklaces made from seeds. Two of the young men climbed up into the
branches where the red wool and the bell were wound. They nimbly unwound the wool and dropped it
with the bell to the ground. At the tiny
bell’s ring, Anna twitched her hands but did not wake up.
Working together, the other tiny people picked Hawthorn
flowers from the branches and dropped them onto the ground as well. Those that waited on the ground carried the
flowers to an older looking tiny person who had a long hawthorn with a hole in
it. The piece of red wool was untangled
and threaded through the hole. One by
one, she pushed the thorn through the centre of each flower, creating a string
of blossoms. When the wool was all
filled up, the two young men each took an end and climbed onto Anna’s
legs. They made their way up her body
until they reached her neck. And there,
they brought the two ends of the wool together into a knot, creating a blossom
necklace around her throat.
That was when they both noticed at the same time, the
silver earrings that hung from Anna’s ear lobes. Silver had been formed into the shape of
cedar needles and they shone in the light. Giggling, the two tiny men walked along Anna’s
shoulders and unfastened the earrings.
Gently sliding them out, they hoisted them over their own shoulders and
began to make their descent. Then they
joined the others who were disappearing into the hole. One carried the bell. The silver of the bell and the earrings flashed
one last time as the rock slid back into place.
Later, when Anna finally awoke, it took her a minute to
remember where she was. She had been
dreaming about tiny people who poured out from a hole behind a rock. They had been picking flowers, she
remembered. Putting her palm over her
heart, she noticed that her chest wasn’t tight anymore. That was a relief. She also noticed something soft under her
fingers. Looking down, she saw a string
of Hawthorn flowers around her neck. She
didn’t remember making a necklace.
Taking a deep breath, she felt her ribcage expand easily. Her heart no longer ached. She was grateful for that.
A movement of brown fur caught her eye and she saw a tiny Cottontail
Rabbit sitting near her foot. Anna sat
very still and eventually the Rabbit hopped a little closer. It began to nibble the grass and clover that
grew under the tree. Anna could feel her
heart opening at the sight of this baby with its very large dark eyes. She smiled as it stopped every now and then
and twitched its soft nose. After a few
minutes, it hopped off out of view and she let out a quiet chuckle.
Anna stretched out her legs in preparation for crawling out
of her sanctuary. Carefully she got onto
her hands and knees and made her way past the sharp thorns and pokey
branches. Once she was clear of the
Hawthorn, she slowly rose to standing.
Brushing her hair back out of her eyes, she slid her hands over her ears
and noticed that her earrings were gone.
“How peculiar,” she said to herself.
“I’m sure I wore the cedar ones today.
I must be getting forgetful. I
don’t even remember making this necklace, although it is very lovely.”
Shaking her head at her presumed forgetfulness, Anna stopped
to pick up a walking stick to help her get back down the hill. Her inner storm had crashed and moved on and
her heart felt open. That was magic
enough for one day, she thought. “And
what a nice dream I had about the fairies!”
Then she stopped in her tracks and turned her head back to the
Hawthorn. “That’s funny,” she said to
herself. “ I thought I heard a bell ringing.”
Laughing at her own imagination, Anna made her way back down the steep
hill and through the village to her home where she made a cup of nettle tea to
have with toast and hawthorn jelly.
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