A Bedtime Story

I'm happy to share this story written by Liz as a bedtime story for her small granddaughter. Liz is a newcomer who (is dreaming? was thinking? could be now planning?) to live here with her little one. She spent Saturday at Windsong with us, so her magical story includes many of the activities and places which the group decided to include during that day's process.

Once upon a future time there was a little girl named Karen. She had big blue eyes, glossy dark hair, and enough energy to dance her friends a merry chase from sun-up to sun-down.

Karen lived in a magical place brimming with splashy pink flowers and chirpy flitting birds and golden gentle butterflies and brilliant red berries and crunchy fruit and sweet and juicy and spicy scents and all manner of creatures from teeny weeny tadpoles to great big old sway-backed horses with swishy tails living their retirement years under the sprawling trees at the end of the road.

Karen had lots of friends big and tall short and small and every day was a new adventure.

Out the door, round the corner stopping to smell a rose with Ann. Hip-hopping along playing leap frog with Jason and Mary and Iris. Down into the underground cave and round the edge of Volcano Mountain. Climbing the mountain and rolling down, up and down up and down with the little kids and the bigger kids and even the big kids with beards and real jobs. A new treat today laughing at Beverly zipping the line and letting Beverly lift her up, up, up, until her whole body hung from her little fat fingers tingling and swaying as she flew down the line and dropped like a ballerina onto her flexy little toes. Up the hill, higher still to linger in the fort and peek out the windows to see who might be out to have a chat or sand some wood or dig in the flower bed. Out of the fort and down the slide racing along the path to find the hose that offers a cooling gush of thirst quenching water. A little spray over Gerry’s feet and off again to splash at the water park with the babies and join the art society to paint a bevy of royal dragon flies on the back of the climbing wall. Veggie dogs and juice at the fire-pit. Slowly she tip-toed down the quiet path to the secret place to slide through the leaves, into the comfy hammock to swing and rest and contemplate her next adventure. Wheels are turning and kids are laughing. Its time to race down the farm road and back until hearts can’t beat any faster, the adults and dogs are lying on the grass gasping and the kids are feasting on juicy, dusty, purpleicious plums.

The gong sounds and Karen’s community drifts towards the smokey smells of veggies and fish on the barbie and pizza and pies in the cob oven. Dusk falls, folks cozy up on comfy bancos with gentle music wafting overhead to thank the earth and the farmers and the cooks for this bounteous feast.

A fire, a song, gooey marshmallows on a fork then good night, good night. The moon is out. Scrub a dub in the tub finds clean fingernails, brown knees and sweet smells behind the ears. A story, a song, a cushy bed and an open window. Karen drifts to sleep with the stars in her eyes and only the sound of crickets in her ears. The gentle voices from the hottub and the firepit drift through the trees surrounding her with peace and security.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow will be a new adventure.

Thank you for this story, Liz. In the middle of all this planning, it is grounding and pleasurable to read this story and think of the day-to-day life which we will be living. :-)