Yesterday morning Finn was humming an enchanting melody. I felt like I was listening to a forest spirit. He was writing out notes on paper and pretending to know what they sounded like. Right then I bought him a little wooden flute for Christmas.
Soon after we drove down to Mt Rainier to see fall color (and I was hoping for a fox.) What I didn’t expect was lots of snow and barren trees as well! We found a giant, crashing waterfall hidden in the rocks. If we hadn’t stopped to look at a tiny trickling one we would have missed it. Someone had come before us and made itty bitty snowmen. They looked like the forest spirits in Princess Mononoke. Do you ever feel like what you’re experiencing is so ethereal you almost feel numb to it? I woke up this morning wondering if yesterday was real. The last I felt like that was after Lucy’s faerie wedding. These are Elven and golden moments that seem more fitting to a story. I fell asleep last night in the loft at Beau’s parents. Finn snuggled up with a fever on my chest, a fire crackling in the stove. We are elves and fairies. It’s who we’re meant to be. I think the reason we enjoy hearing their stories is because they are truly about us. When I watched my boys trekking over the stone bridge over an expanse of autumn and snow flakes and aqua pools, I was in Rivendell, and the truth of it was like a dream.