Heronry
If you don’t like how blurry the photo is, please continue reading. There is more to the picture than meets the eye…
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The wind whistles past the mouth of the cave where Little Snake huddles beside the hearth. All the rest — The Old Woman, Raven, and Spirit — are outside despite the gusto with which the wind is lashing the island. A Pine Siskin blows into the cave and Little Snake perks up. Subtly, slowly, she slithers over to where the small bird is pecking at the seeds and insects the vivacious wind has blown onto the cave floor. Little Snake senses the moment is perfect and strikes.
Down on the beach, The Old Woman is gathering driftwood to store for the winter. She breathes deeply of the tumultuous air, as if washing her lungs. Through the wind, she hears an unusual croaking and straightens up to see a Great Blue Heron alight at that liminal edge where the stream meets the ocean.
Far above The Old Woman’s head, Raven and Spirit are frolicking in the gusts. Seizing the opportunity of The Old Woman’s momentary distraction, Raven launches himself into the cave. He has every intention of tearing a new hole in The Old Woman’s tapestry, but when he sees Little Snake lying on the cave floor with half of a bird in her mouth, his imagination turns in a new direction.
“A-rhoh! Little Snake! Are you hurt?” he cries in mock-concern. “Talk to me! Are you choking? Do you need me to pull the bird out of your mouth?”
Raven hops and frets over Little Snake so much that at last, the reptile regurgitates the Pine Siskin’s head — the only part she had managed to fit down her throat. “I’m fine,” she spits testily at Raven.
“A-rhoh, thank goodness! I’m so relieved!”
“You’re relieved that I’m okay?” Little Snake asks skeptically.
“No, that you finally spit out that bird. It’s much too big for you, but it would make a perfect meal for me.” With that, Raven snatches the Pine Siskin in his beak and flies off to his perch over the cave entrance to enjoy his craftily-won meal far above the protesting serpent.
When The Old Woman eventually returns with her load of wet driftwood, Little Snake loses no time recounting Raven’s misdeed.
He defends himself saying, “She could never have swallowed the bird. I did her a service by preventing her from choking to death.”
“Go find her another meal to eat,” is all The Old Woman says.
“Naark! What!?” protests Raven. “I just saved her life and this is the thanks I get?”
“With you around, she doesn’t have to worry about choking to death because she’s more likely to starve.”
“She should learn to hunt birds she can actually swallow,” Raven grumbles.
“Go catch her another meal—”
“Why should I?” Raven interjects.
“and I will tell you a story when you get back,” The Old Woman calmly finishes.
Raven cocks his head, considering. “We haven’t had a good story in a while… Fine, I’ll go.”
He returns a short while later with a small fish in his mouth and Spirit on his tail. “The bite-sized birds have all blown away or are roosting somewhere safe, so I found you a fish instead.”
“You don’t usually go fishing,” The Old Woman observes from where she is bent over the soggy driftwood, spreading it out to dry around the fire.
“That Heron showed me a few tricks,” explains Raven as he tosses his catch to Little Snake.
“Ah,” remarks The Old Woman.
Raven and Spirit settle themselves over the hearth to dry out like the driftwood. “So what about this story?” Spirit eagerly asks.
“All in good time,” grunts The Old Woman as she drags a particularly heavy log across the cave floor. “Let me get settled at my loom and then I will tell you your story.”
The Ravens readjust their feet impatiently. The Old Woman seems to be moving especially slowly, making them wait an agonizingly long time. At long last, she sits down at her loom and picks up a grey-blue ball of yarn.
“This tale happened ages ago,” The Old Woman pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or was it just last week?” She shakes her head. “Either way, it begins when three brothers, Heimdall, Baldur, and Hodr set out on a walk to discuss the dismal state of the world and their finances.”
“Why were they named after Norse gods?” asks Raven.
“In their youth, their parents had met in a Viking re-enactment village, but that is irrelevant to the story.”
“Koh! Isn’t that testing fate a little?” Raven fluffs a feathery eyebrow. “Especially since Hodr killed Baldur.”
“Maybe,” The Old Woman considers, “unless the brothers in question aligned with the energy of the god he was named for, rather than claiming that power for himself. Hodr was only tricked into killing Baldur because he was blind, so perhaps his energy can learn to see beyond what the eyes perceive. But you are distracting me,” she waves her hand at the corvid. “The story goes that, as the young men in question were not paying much attention to their feet, they eventually found themselves on a little-used gravel road at the edge of their town. None of them recalled ever having been on that particular road before, so they let their curiosity carry them onward.
“The road ended at a property surrounded by an enormous palisade, as if the owners had taken the meaning of ‘fence’ to a whole other level. As they were puzzling over this kind of Iron Age encampment, the brothers heard a woman’s voice calling from within.
“‘Hera! Wake up and catch the rope before you float away!’
“A shadow fell over the brothers and they looked up to see a young woman with her eyes closed floating up above the palisade wall. The brothers rushed through the door in the enormous fence to find to another young woman tossing a rope up at Hera’s feet, but missing entirely.
“‘Let me try.’ Hodr reached for the rope. With an expert toss, he wrapped the end around Hera’s foot and the three brothers were able to pull her back down to the Earth again.
“When her feet were back on the ground, Hera blinked a few times, as if she were waking up out of a reverie.
“‘What was that about?’ Baldur asked.
“‘Oh, she does that sometimes,’ the other young woman said. ‘She starts daydreaming and just floats away. It really frightens us.’
“‘But how?’
“‘Mother criticized Hera for how she was weeding the garden. Mother fancies herself a real Demeter - goddess of our garden - and nobody can meet her standards. Now, can you come and help me get our other sister, Thetis, to turn off the rain?’
“In the excitement of pulling Hera back down to Earth, the brothers had failed to notice that indeed rain was falling inside the walls of the palisade, though the day had been dry and sunny outside.
“‘Where is she, Kore?’ Hera asked, and the sister called Kore led everyone over to the well where Thetis, the third sister, was sitting and weeping.
“‘What did Father do this time?’ Kore asked Thetis.
“‘He told me my photographs were all blurry!’ the young woman wailed. The brothers noticed then that each of the sisters wore a camera around her neck.
“‘There was a beautiful Heron up in a tree outside the wall, but I couldn’t get my lens to focus that far away. I asked Father how I could take a better photo of the Heron, and,’ she sobbed, ‘he said that I should focus on closer things because I would never get to see anything from outside the wall anyway.’
“Heimdall stepped forward. ‘We’re from outside the wall.’
“Thetis startled at the sound of his voice, but after blinking away her tears, she smiled. ‘You are from outside the wall! How did you get in?’
“The brothers looked at each other in confusion. Heimdall answered, ‘We walked through the door.’
“‘Mother and Father must have forgotten to lock it when they left,’ Thetis surmised. ‘I’m glad they did.’ The sun that was shining outside the palisade caught the remaining drizzle and formed a rainbow over the garden.
“‘Can you control the weather?’ Heimdall asked her.
“‘No, but it does seem to rain a lot when I cry.’
“‘How long have you lived here?’ Baldur asked.
“‘All our lives.’
“‘How old are you?’ Hodr asked. Baldur elbowed him in the ribs, but the sisters did not seem offended.
“‘I’m 40,’ declared Hera.
“‘I’m 47,’ admitted Thetis.
“‘I’m 43, but we’re still only 15 years old,’ said Kore.
“‘How is that possible?’ asked Heimdall; his brothers were thinking the same thing.
“Kore explained, ‘When we each reached the age of 15, we stopped growing and changing and we’ve been the same ever since.’
“‘If you have lived here so long, how come we have never seen you in town?” Baldur asked.
“‘Oh, we can’t leave,’ Thetis replied. ‘Right after Hera was born, a friend of our parents had a vision that if we were to leave our home, we would be whisked away by a powerful wind, and our parents would never be able to find us.”
“‘That sounds like a likely story,’ scoffed Heimdall.
“‘What do you mean?’ asked Hera.
“‘Winds don’t just blow down and carry people off.’
“‘Well, Father and Mother have always told us that we would be blown away on a wind if we stepped off the property. That’s why they built the wall around us.’
“‘Where are your parents now?’ asked Heimdall.
“‘They went to town,’ said Kore.
“‘So you like photography?’ interjected Hodr.
“‘Oh, yes!’ exclaimed Hera. ‘They gave us cameras to amuse ourselves with when our chores were done, and we have been taking pictures ever since.’
“‘But our lenses have such a short range,’ complained Thetis.
“‘Yes, lately we have seen big, beautiful Herons perched in the trees and even standing on the wall, but we can’t seem to get a good picture of them,’ explained Hera.
“‘We need longer lenses, but Father won’t get them for us.
“‘Don’t start again, Thetis,’ Kore interjected, ‘or you’ll make it rain again and the garden won’t get the sunshine it needs.’
“‘So why are your parents safe from the wind, but you aren’t?’ asked Heimdall. ‘It seems like a fishy explanation for keeping you locked up.’
“‘They are always controlling us like that,’ complained Kore. ‘They’re always criticizing what we do and how we do it, but they won’t let us leave because they’re afraid we’ll be carried off. They are afraid of — Oh drat! I’ve done it again!’ she exclaimed, looking down at the ground where her legs were disappearing as if she had stepped in quicksand.
“‘She does that when she gets ruminating on how unfair life is, and how sick and tired Father and Mother are of us, and how we can’t leave for fear the wind will whisk us away,’ Thetis explained.
“‘You’re not helping!’ barked Kore from waist-deep in the ground. ‘Can someone pull me up out of here?’
“Baldur stepped forward, got hold of Kore under her arms, and heaved her back up again.
“‘Thank you! Father always pulls me out, but he isn’t here now,’ Kore explained.
“‘Half of the time, it’s Father’s fault you fall in in the first place,’ grumbled Thetis.
“‘And Mother’s fault the other half,’ added Hera.
“‘The door is unlocked now,’ Heimdall observed. ‘Why don’t you just leave?’
“‘But the wind will blow us away,’ Hera reminded him.
“‘What wind?’ asked Baldur. ‘It’s flat calm out there.’
“‘It may blow in out of nowhere,’ Thetis suggested.
“With a little coaxing, the brothers convinced the sisters to just peek outside the palisade. The girls looked around as if they had never seen such a wondrous sight before as the wooded lane that led to their home. The brothers smiled to see the look of rapture on the girls’ faces. So everyone was caught off guard when a furious gust of wind blew in, whipping the trees into a frenzy. The gust left as quickly as it came and the brothers looked around in shock to see that, indeed, the girls had vanished with the wind.
“‘Well, now we’ve done it,’ said a bewildered Heimdall.
“‘I really did not believe that would happen,’ Baldur shook his head.
“‘None of us did,’ agreed Hodr. ‘I guess we had better go find them.’
“‘Why?’ asked Baldur.
“‘Because it’s our fault they walked outside and got blown away,’ Hodr said, as if it should be obvious.
‘What if it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to them?’ Baldur contradicted.
“‘Yeah,’ Heimdall agreed, “it didn’t sound like their home life was all rainbows and unicorns.’
“‘I didn’t say we needed to bring them back,’ argued Hodr, ‘but we should make sure they are safe, not trapped in some troll cave.’
“‘Troll cave?’ Baldur exclaimed with incredulity.
“Hodr shrugged. ‘With all of the strange things that have happened today, it isn’t out of the question.’
“‘Fair enough,’ Baldur conceded. ‘But how will we know where to find them?’
“‘I don’t know. Let’s ask that Heron up there. Animals are always helping people in stories like these,’ Hodr suggested. ‘Excuse me, Heron? Do you happen to know which way the girls went?’
“The Heron croaked and stretched his wings, flying away to the west.
“‘Where are we?’ asked Thetis, trying to see through the mist all around them.
“‘Someone’s on the bridge; let’s ask them,’ offered Kore.
“Wait… That’s not a human - that’s a Heron,’ said Hera.
“The Heron in question opened her beak, and in an ancient, weathered voice said, ‘You are at the foot of Mountain-in-the-Blue.’ She then spread her wings wide and flew slowly, powerfully up to rest in a nearby Spruce tree.
“The sisters crossed the bridge, their heads turning to look all around them. They could see little through the mist. However, cloud-cloaked trees peeked out here and there, and they realized that to their right, indeed loomed a mountain of blue, green, and grey. The mist lifted a little and where the sun shone through, the sisters walked until they found they had reached the shore. They followed the tideline for a long time, snapping photos along the way. They wondered if they would ever get to see the photos, lost as they were, but it was a familiar pastime and so they continued. Eventually they found their own footsteps in the sand and realized they must be on an island. As the clouds shifted, lifting up off of the water, they saw a Heron sitting on the remnants of a dock.
“‘What are we going to do?’ fretted Thetis.
“‘Please don’t start crying,’ Hera cut in. ‘There are so many clouds around, they are bound to start raining at your first tear.’
“‘This is just great,’ grumbled Kore. ‘We have traded one prison for another.’
“‘Don’t start talking like that,’ Thetis admonished her, ‘or you’ll sink into the sand.’
“Having noticed the sisters, the Heron flew down to wade along the water’s edge.
“‘Stop taking pictures and look!’ admonished Kore. ‘I think she’s trying to tell us something.’
“As Thetis lowered her camera, she noticed a certain ethereal quality in Hera’s expression, and a familiar airiness about her feet.
“‘Oh no, don’t you go floating off having imaginary conversations with the Heron,’ Thetis wrapped a hand firmly around her sister’s arm.
“‘I’m just trying to connect.’
“‘Well you can keep your eyes open and your feet on the ground because she’s talking directly to us — watch,’ said Kore.
“Fixing her eye upon the girls, the Heron dipped her long beak into the water and scooped up a beakful of small fish, swallowed them, and stared once more at the girls.
“‘Do you think she wants us to do what she’s doing?’ asked Hera.
“‘But we can’t - we’re not Herons,’ argued Thetis.
“‘Look again, sister,’ said Kore. ‘It appears that we are.’
“Sure enough, amidst the magic of the mist, the sisters had transformed into Herons. Once again, the Elder Heron looked pointedly at them and scooped up a beakful of the small fish, swallowed them, and with her sharp, yellow gaze, encouraged them to do the same.
“Thetis stepped cautiously into the water. Staring down, her eyes took a few moments to adjust so that she could tell the difference between the school of fish swimming about her feet and their shadows. When she felt as if she could see clearly, she dipped her beak into the water and caught a fish.
“Kore had waded out a little farther to the edge where the ocean floor dropped away from the shallow shore. Here she had to be patient and careful lest she step off the edge and be pulled underwater. She could feel panic rise within her, fear that she would not be able to reach the school of fish if they swam any farther out. But she remembered to take a deep breath and wait, and a straggler from the school of fish swam near enough for her to snatch it up in a swift dip of the beak.
“Having watched Kore scare off the school of fish, Hera wondered how she would find a fish of her own to catch. She flew upward for a better vantage, but was careful to keep her eyes open and her senses alert, lest she float away. She spotted another school of fish behind where Thetis stood, and flew back down to shore. Slowly sliding her feet into the shallow water, she was careful not to startle the fish, thus she was able to snap one up in her beak.
“The Elder Heron appeared to be satisfied with how the sisters had passed her test and took to the sky with an invitation for them to join the Heronry. The girls accompanied her in the clouds and soon found themselves among their new, feathered family.
“Meanwhile, the three brothers followed a foot trail through the woods, generally heading west.
“‘I was thinking,’ mused Heimdall, ‘you know how women these days are told they need to look young forever and they buy all these anti-aging beauty products?’
“‘What are you rambling on about?’ asked Baldur.
“‘Well, didn’t it seem a little grotesque to you that the sisters were in their forties, but they were stuck looking like teenagers?’
“‘It was a little strange,’ Baldur admitted, ‘but we’re not backing out now.’
“‘I wasn’t suggesting backing out,’ Heimdall reassured him. ‘I’m actually curious to see if they have aged any since getting blown out of their little compound.’
“‘Yeah,’ agreed Baldur, ‘I wonder how their adventure has changed them?’
“‘Hey, look what I found!’ Hodr called from behind them.
“The other two turned to see him holding up a weather-worn bag he was examining the contents of.
“‘It’s a camera!’ the youngest brother exclaimed. ‘I don’t know if it works anymore, but if we ever find the girls, we can give them this nice, big lens.’
“The brothers continued on, nibbling berries they found along the way.
“‘Are we sure we’re going in the right direction?’ Heimdall asked.
“‘Who knows? That wind came out of the east, so I guess west makes the most sense,’ replied Baldur.
“‘Look what I found!’ Hodr exclaimed from some ways behind the other two.
“‘What junk are you picking up now?’ Heimdall sighed as he saw the fishing rod.
“‘It even has a hook attached!’ grinned Hodr.
“‘Why do you want to lug around an old fishing rod?’ Baldur asked. ‘You’re going to snag it on every branch you pass.’
“‘You never know; it could come in handy,’ shrugged Hodr.
“A little while later, Hodr called out again, ‘Look what I found!’
“Rolling their eyes, Heimdall and Baldur turned back to see Hodr holding up a rusty axe-head without a handle.
“‘What could you possibly need that for? It’ll weigh you down,’ said Heimdall.
“‘Maybe,’ agreed Hodr, ‘but I think I’ll keep it just the same.’
“Around evening time, the three brothers came to a mossy-roofed cabin deep in the woods that looked more like a shack on its way back to the forest than a viable abode. However, outside the cabin was a grizzly old man with a long, grey beard. He appeared to have been chopping firewood from a downed tree, but had somehow gotten his beard caught in the log and was having a heck of a time trying to pry himself free.
“Rhaak! Rhaak!’ Raven and Spirit laugh, the cave filling with their raucous voices.
“‘Hold on there,’ Hodr called out, ‘I have just the thing for you!’
“‘Hold on? Hold on?’ retorted the old man. ‘I’m not going anywhere with this here log holding onto me!’
“Hodr hurried over and pulled the rusty axe-head out of his bag and wedged it into the split in the log. Then, finding the old man’s axe, he used the blunt end to hammer the wedge in so that the old man could pull his beard out.
“‘Thank you for that,’ the old man said, rubbing his chin. ‘Now what are you three doing back here where nobody but the Bears and the Deer and the Wolves walk?’
“‘We know it sounds crazy,’ explained Heimdall, ‘but we’re looking for three girls who blew away on a freak wind. We think they might have traveled this way.’
“‘Three girls, you say?’ the old man eyed them warily.
“‘Not little girls, more like young women,’ Baldur clarified.
“Well since you were so kind as to get me out of that pickle with the log,’ the old man conceded, ‘I’ll let you in on a little secret. I saw those girls you’re looking for earlier today and I tracked them to a slab of rock on the other side of that ridge there.’ He pointed to a tapering ridge line to the west. ‘Once you find that slab, you’ll have to shift it because the wind took them down into the ground. I was too late to catch them and I didn’t have the strength to move that rock by myself.’
“The brothers stayed in the cabin with the old man that night, and the next morning, they set out to climb the ridge. When the reached the valley on the other side, they found the slab of rock the old man had told them about. It was heavy enough that the three of them had to lift with all of their strength to shift it. Using a length of rope the old man had given them, they secured one end to a rock and lowered themselves down into the hole.
“Once inside, they found themselves in a misty, foggy landscape where they could not see much beyond the length of their own arms. A slight breeze swirled the fog, showing them a footpath, so they set out to follow it.
“Eventually they came to a bridge - the same bridge where the sisters had first seen the Elder Heron. Only now, their way was barred by a Bear. Hodr knew just what to do. He trudged off toward the stream that ran below the bridge some distance from the Bear. Grateful that he had kept the fishing pole he had found, he cast his fishing hook into the water.
“After some time, he finally snagged a Salmon powering through the water. This he brought to the Bear as an offering. The Bear received the fish and lumbered off into the mist to enjoy the meal in peace. The brothers stepped onto the bridge, but found an Eagle guarding the other side. Once again, Hodr cast his fishing pole into the stream until he eventually snagged a second Salmon. The Eagle received the tribute and flew off with the Salmon.
“The Elder Heron called down from her high perch in a nearby Spruce tree, ‘Why have you come here to Mountain-in-the-Blue?’
“Heimdall called back, ‘We are looking for three sisters whom we believe were brought here on a gust of wind.’
The Elder Heron squawked and the fog lifted from the trees enough to show that they were filled with Herons. To the brothers she called out, ‘If you can spot the three whom you have come here in search of, then they are free to leave with you.’
“There must have been thirty Herons or more in the surrounding trees. Heimdall was beginning to despair when he felt something cold touch his hand. He looked down to see that Hodr was handing him the camera he had found.
“Holding the camera up to his eye, he looked again at the scene before him, and there in the trees he saw that about half of the Herons were actually Human women roosting in their feathered dresses. He scanned the trees until he saw a familiar face.
“‘The one under the hanging lichen,’ Heimdall pointed, ‘is Thetis.’
“The Heron in question croaked as she spread her great wings and slowly flew down to the ground by Heimdall’s feet. He passed the camera on to Baldur, who spotted Kore fishing in the stream. Lastly, Hodr caught sight of Hera swooping down from the clouds.
“Though the brothers were relieved to have found the sisters once more, the three Herons walked somberly across the bridge. On the other side, they regained their human forms, but now they looked their ages.
“‘Where did you get those clothes?’ Hodr asked of them, noticing the slate-blue scarf on Thetis’ head, skirt around Kore’s waist, and socks on Hera’s feet.
“‘We made them,’ Kore stated.
“‘In one day?’ Baldur exclaimed in surprise.
“Oh, no, not one day. We spent a year and a day amongst the Herons,’ Thetis explained.
“‘But we only met you yesterday,’ Heimdall puzzled.
“‘I suppose time passes differently at Mountain-in-the-Blue,’ Hera shrugged. ‘I will miss it.’
“‘Me too. I don’t want to go back and live with Mother and Father,’ Kore declared and her sisters agreed.
“‘You don’t have to,’ Hodr interjected. ‘You are free to live wherever you want now.’
“‘Part of me wants to go back to Mountain-in-the-Blue,’ Hera said wistfully.
“‘Maybe we can visit from time to time, but I think we need to learn how to live as ourselves in the world now,’ said Thetis.
“‘And teach others the lessons we have learned from the Herons,’ agreed Kore.
“‘Oh!’ exclaimed Hodr, ‘I almost forgot!’ He reached out and handed the sisters the worn old camera bag. ‘I found something for you.’
“The joy on Thetis’ face lit up a rainbow overhead.”
“In the old stories, the heroes usually married the heroines,” Raven remarks. “Is that what happened for the brothers and sisters?”
“In the old days,” The Old Woman explains as she sends her shuttle through the tapestry once more, “there weren’t a lot of other options for people. However, the marriages in the stories are also symbolic, metaphors for balancing the masculine and feminine energies after they had matured through the ordeals of the story. Whether or not these brothers and sisters ever married each other is irrelevant because they have both connected with the part of themselves they were less acquainted with. The Feminine learned how to move in the world, while the Masculine learned how to be receptive to external direction. Both learned how to see through a different lens.”
“Why were the girls trapped for so long?” asks Little Snake as she languidly digests her meal.
“Long ago, and in some parts of the world this became true much more recently than in others, the Feminine held a valued role as the Mother of Creation, as the Provider of Abundant Life, and the Great Composter. However, the idea of scarcity took hold in the minds of some, and it fed a fear-driven movement that set in motion a self-fulfilling prophecy. This movement devastates landscapes and human cultures, and in its desperate consumption, it uprooted the Feminine from her role in the world and fenced her into smaller and smaller spaces. Trapped for so long in such a restricted space, she has not had the room to grow and mature. Outside her tiny enclosure, the Masculine was cut off from her and suffers as well, unable to develop wholly.”
Spirit looks out the cave entrance to the storm blowing outside. “I hope the winds of change blow me some food.”
“Rhaak!” Raven laughs. “Me too! Let’s go see!”
With a rustle of feathers and wings, the two Ravens fly off into the the wind.
The week that I wrote this, Jen Murphy from the Celtic Creatives offered an oracle card from the new deck she is creating: “Sheela na Gig: Open to the Ugly Beauty of Change.” The essence of her message hatched to life in this story and its accompanying artwork. We don’t always see where we need to grow because often times we are looking through old lenses, myopic in the smallness of the worlds we fence ourselves into. Collectively, the Feminine has been penned into a small definition, not allowed out to grow into an experienced, mature Feminine with clear sight. Likewise, the Masculine has been fenced off from the inner world of the Feminine. In some parts of the world, neither have spoken much with each other, at least not in healthy, mutually respectful, and nurturing ways.
I believe that fairy tales and other such stories grew out of people’s encounters with other realms, such as through dreams, trances, and other altered states of consciousness, blended with archetypal motifs and plot signatures, as well as their relationship with the landscapes and ecosystems they lived intimately with and within. Though I am most grateful for the collections of fairy tales written down as folk cultures were swiftly fading, I am saddened by how we now read such tales as quaint stories from bygone times. As with all of my tales, I sought to tell this story from just such a liminal place as our ancestors would have. Therefore, some of the images came from a dream, others from a trance journey, some of the plot and motifs came from the Norwegian fairy tale, “The Princesses of the Mountain in the Blue,” collected by Asbjørnson and Moe. Real, live Great Blue Herons living along the Pacific Northwest Coast from the Puget Sound all the way up to the Gastineau Channel spoke their wisdom into the story, as did a powerfully windy Wednesday (“Winds-day”) that took out the power of all of Juneau and threatened to flatten my cat - or perhaps blow her away.
*The video was taken by Melissa Anne.