The Bench

On a bluff on our property, high above the tops of the Aspen and Birch far below, sits a small Bench, made out of stumps and a plank, painted an unfortunate green.

The Bench is innocuous, blending in with its surroundings, not noticeable, really, in any way...yet if one should happen to sit upon it, to gaze over the hillside...one is transported, without noticing a thing, to another realm.

It is a calm journey, not one that would frighten or startle...but suddenly one finds oneself soaring over the treetops, seeing the homes and the fields of the valley below. It is as if one were on a Magic Carpet...a little dizzying, but not a lot to be concerned about.

I first saw the Bench after the former owner told me about it...how, from there, it was possible to view the entire property. But I was below it, and didn't take the time to climb through the Snow to sit upon it.

I remembered it the other day, however. Snow is melting, dripping, gurgling and singing its farewell song, and the Bluff is clear, covered with Kinnikinnick, Roses and other Berries yet to be identified. The dogs and I climbed the small incline towards the Bench.

I sat down, the dogs panting and resting by my side.

It was one of the few warm days we've had. As Sun's golden rays touched my face and Wind tickled my ears, I closed my eyes, in order to listen more closely to Wind's guarded whisper. His caress over my face made me drowsy, like a child being stroked by his Mother.

Watch, said Wind, Listen and Remember...

How odd, I thought, Remember what? But Wind moved on, branches swaying in his path, leaving me to discover whatever it was for myself.

I heard Coyote in the distance, singing his lonely Song...one that reminds me of Loon, who once aroused the same feeling within me. A long time ago, by the pond of my childhood.

And as I followed Coyote's call, the land changed. Spring, with its attendant Bird calls and buzzing of Insects, was in full fruitfulness all around me. There were Flowers, colouring the landscape yellow and blue and pink and red, along with bright, young, green Grasses and Leaves.

I flew over the Aspen and Birch, noting the difference in their leaf colours, hearing the whisper of the Aspen leaves, like soft, gentle coastal Rain. I was shown, in the deep gully where the Grove grew, a huge stump, rotting and being further torn apart by Bear in his search for food. I saw where Moose congregated and Mule Deer browsed within their herds.

I heard the warning...Be aware, it is Spring. There are Youngsters about.

I journeyed on. I saw a large Rockery, filled with Herbs...Parsley, Rosemary, Thyme...and Sage. I saw Lilac Trees filling the air with their perfume. I saw Calendula and Clematis, tangling her witch's seed heads throughout the Big Firs. I saw a garden, and realized it was mine.

I saw an Eagle. I watched as he chased Snow Owl, who silently ducked into the Trees, with the prey he had stolen from Eagle. I lost sight of Owl, but my eyes followed Eagle, listening to his disgruntled rebuke. He circled and circled, trying to catch sight of Owl...but then wheeled off, calling once more. I flew with him, so easily, it seemed, from my perch on the Bench.

I flew over the countryside, a different land than the one I was familiar with. Lady Spring had touched her Wand over every Field, Tree and Flower and had painted the Cariboo all the colours of the Rainbow, shimmering and unreal to my startled eyes.

The dogs roused me. A nose nudged my hand. It was time to wander on.

After a deep dream such as this, when I am caught unaware, the colours that surround me are intensified. It is as if each Branch and Leaf, each Boulder, from the biggest to the smallest, have a luminous light that shimmers and shines, delineating each and every Being. The Land, though not Springlike, looked beautiful.

And I realized...each Season in its time.

Spring will arrive in all its glory. So will the warm, golden days of Summer, the crisp days of Autumn, and the cold, clear days of Winter. As sure as anything.

And becoming impatient for the end of Winter will not cure a thing...it will not change the cycle Mother Earth has found for herself.

I left the Bench, glancing back in awe and wonder. Had I, after only a couple of weeks, already found the Magical Place? Where journeys transpire, and where one understands the language of the Beings who inhabit this place?

A small, innocent Bench, painted an unfortunate green...who knew?