|Lake Michigan just before Sleeping Bear Dunes|
In the past, on a trip to Ireland, I had conjured a tale of a cow selke. I may have mentioned it before. I was high on a hill with a spectacular view of the Atlantic alone with my mom and a herd of cows. My sister had punked out and gone back down the hill as it was a chilly windswept Irish day. One of the cows in particular was very interested in our movements. I turned to my mom and said, 'she didn't leave after all. She's right here with us.' And so for the rest of the trip, whenever we came across a bunch of cows, I would yell out my sister's name, and wouldn't you know that there was always one brown cow, a sweet cow of course, who would turn and look me straight in the eye. Well from that point on, whenever I encounter cows, I call her name and know that she is close by. Of course the legend is that she is a cow selke ... taken from the tradition of Irish selkes ... though rather than being trapped between land and sky, she is as comfortable grazing on a field as she is being a woman in the world.
But now the doe. I've seen this phenomenon twice and I'm beginning to wonder if it isn't all living things that watch over me. Of course the deer remind me of a Potter petronus. Snape was a deer. And when Harry needed him, he appeared. I apparently didn't need a herd yesterday, just a little doe to watch over me.
|the calm before the storm|
I would stay here for ever ... but I hear the road. And I have to hit it.