Devotion: On bedtime stories in spring
If this is your first time stopping by, welcome! I created a series of Spring-themed letters playing with fairy tales and what spring can mean. I love the season. The way the world emerges from frost and comes to life. I gave everyone the option to make it scary; this one is not. I hope you enjoy!
In the spirit of the season that flees before we can truly treasure her, here is something more tangible. Something to embody the warmth, joy and new life that is so very synonymous with Spring.
I would prefer you read this as the sun sets. Find a place that feels serene and gives you a good view of the sky and its colors.
Ring a-round the rosie,
A pocket full of posies.
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down.
You’ve spent the day round the maypole, spinning and twirling its ribbons.
It only arrives once a year, so you must enjoy it while you can. You danced and laughed and sang and your body is heavy with fatigue. Settle in and relax.
Garlands of lavender and thyme hang about the room, giving the space an earthy sweetness. There are still flowers tucked into your hair and your skin feels warm from the sun’s touch. Go on and scrub the day’s grit and grime away before you crawl under your soft linen sheets. The soap smells of milk and honey; bubbles float and pop here and there.
With a cup of tea, I will tell you a bedtime story. One full of wonder and mystery. It is, in fact, the history of this village, but it is entirely up to you if you choose to believe. Someone must uphold the tradition of storytelling.
Every night, mothers in the village remind their offspring to come home before dark. There is too much to do and see tomorrow, they must race home for dinner. You do not want to be lost in the woods after dark. The will-o-the-wisps are wily and love to play tricks.
A naiad waits patiently for gifts from weary travelers. They were told to stand guard over a particular stream with a very specific type of mud. Mud that has miraculous healing powers. Now, this naiad was never granted access to share this mud with humans, as they knew humankind would exploit and find any way to monetize Mother Nature’s gracious gift. But as the years passed, they grew bored. It wasn’t until a man on the brink of death came stumbling through the woods that they changed their mind. In gratitude, he created an altar made of shells and pearls and everything he could gather that felt precious. If one wishes to be healed, a gift MUST be offered to the naiad in respect. To this day it remains, but no one quite knows its exact location. It is said fate may draw you closer.
A horse as black as night gallops and wanders the world. Perpetually looking for something or someone. Its eyes milky white, blind to the beauty and wonder of the countryside. It is said that if one should see the horse, their life is forever changed. But can it see something we cannot? And what happens if you are seen? Would you find the horse or wait for it to come to you?
Now, you do not have to believe my fairytales. But if you completely turn your back on the magic in our world, what else will you be missing out on? You should know by now that I would never lead you astray.
The candle on your bedside table is extinguished and the light from the moon pours in. When you sit up and look out the window, fireflies zip here and there.
What wonders will you see tomorrow? What might you learn? Butterflies flutter in your ribcage at the thought.
Sweetest dreams, darling.