A Creature of Habit
These are dark rainy days in the boreal forest. The clouds only lift for a couple of hours before we are engulfed in fog and rain. The air is charged and the forest smells absolutely delicious. Then when we get bouts of sun we all feel we’ve come back to life.
I woke early after one serious downpour to check on the forget-me-nots and little sprouting wild strawberries which just appeared on my daily trail. It’s been so nice to experience a second Spring, with Serviceberries and Twinflowers blooming all over the place.
I was dearly checking on the strawberries when I caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes fixed on me…
She was shy and so I didn’t talk. I just continued about my business, knowing full well that she needed to see I was trustworthy. These things take time.
She kept hidden, watching me intently while wrapped in birch leaves. I wonder what her name was and wether I was going to see her again.
I decided to leave and give her more space. With luck on my side I hoped to return the next morning, bearing gifts and/or potential bribes. Absolutely nobody can resist a piece of buttered toast, lathered in wild raspberry jam.
We did this little dance for a few days before she came out and talked to me. She first asked sensible questions, like why my hair was white and black since hers is all white. This took some explaining.
She also asked me why I looked after the flowers. She has never seen anybody else looking after them, not in the forest she said. She asked me if I had mice at home that would love to eat strawberries and forget-me-nots.
Apparently she has seen them do this often. I told her I was glad I had no mice, not to my knowledge…
She wondered about my star chart, my home orientation and which one was my favourite window. I was marvelled at her sensitivity and inquiring nature. We spent a few mornings getting to know each other before I offered to give her a tour of my home and doll studio.
She was VERY intrigued about the dolls. Had never heard such a thing.
I told her all about Poet and how she was back in Portugal, ‘keeping down the fort’. She didn’t know the expression so she look a bit bewildered, asking questions wether Poet was a warrior. That made me giggle!
She was positively entranced with the bumblebees and cedar waxwings dancing around our blooming crabapple. She said it was a very old and beautiful tree and that she knew several of its family members.
Not quite sure what she meant but I nodded in agreement. One does not want to look too flustered about one’s own tree…
She fell in love with my lace basket so I volunteered to make her some clothes. She said she would love them to be white. I agreed. After a few hours of careful consideration, she chose her favourite laces and off I was to make her a few items of clothing.
We measured everything on her and she started getting very excited when she saw me turn on the sewing machine. She said she had never seen anybody make clothes with a machine. Will wonders never cease?! we both smiled.
So Miss Birch (Bibi for short) seems to be accruing a lovely wardrobe of her own. I must confess she found me just in the right mood and I am happy to oblige. I shall tell you more of our adventures soon.
I hope you’re all having a beautiful week!
