My favorite place to be...green and softly glowing, animal traces through tall grasses, bird and birds and birds and a click beetle, clear bubbling up and flowing like life from a green hillside, faeries and gnomes and a healing embrace, heal-all seeding itself among a meadow of bright red columbine for mirth and tiny purple monkey-faced flowers for contemplation and ancient wild roses for melancholy and dandelions for what else: wishes.
There is no other spot in the world like this one, and know it like the back of my own hand. I know where I might be likely to find a hummingbird or a rabbit warren. I've held church here. I've held myself together here. I've come with a headache tight as a fist, and after 5 minutes it was gone...blown away on a slight breeze. I've lain among the tall grasses, hidden away from bird-watchers and hikers, with my eyes closed. I've made friends with grass spiders here. I've watched a fat robin take a choke cherry from the bowered roof of my hiding spot. I've dipped my toes in the ice cold, straight from the mountain spring water. I've longed to drink it, but never dared, anointing my arms and legs and the back of my neck instead. I've let it carry away my anger and my hurt. I've gone there to be thankful. I've gone there in a rush to make sure it is all okay still. It is like a bright patch on my heart that waves in the wind like grasses, and stays put purely by the amount of things growing on it, rather than a seam. It is me and I am it. I never expected to love a little bit of earth this much...but after 8 years of coming and going from it, it is just like an old friend who wants nothing better than to begin where you left off last time. When I step there, I remember who I am under the layers I put on when I am away. It strips me down to the bones and says, "Ahhh, see, there you are." That is magic.