Category: Folklore

Finding “Winterset Hollow”

I came upon this book while scrolling one day. The cover grabbed me as did the overview… “good as Stephen King”, they said. I’ve never read horror, nor Stephen King but I was fascinated by the tags: #fairy tales, #horror. Then I lost it and couldn’t remember title or author.

Friends helped me search but no luck. I turned to bookstores explaining that I knew nothing about it except there was a scary pen and ink drawing of a hare on the jacket. Though they tried, no one could help me.

Finally, on a trip in Arizona, I went into the “Quail Run” bookstore in Green Valley, where the man at the counter made a few research attempts when I asked, “Can you help me find this book? Nope, no author name and no title”. As expected, he came up with nothing. But, as I turned to leave, he said, “Wait, my wife might be able to help”.

If I relied on looks, I never would have pegged her as a researcher. As she walked up the aisle, she might have been a waitress or a hairdresser maybe: long nails, even longer eyelashes, bleached and permed hair, skin tight jeans and t-shirt and skinny as a rail.

Soon, “Miss Quail Run” was at the computer tapping away. “No, nope, no, thats not it”, I said as she offered this one and another. Her husband, now not so sure said, “Welp, we tried…” She cut him off and said with a wink, “Don’t be so hasty. I’m not ready to give up yet, are you?”.

I was happy that I had found someone willing to try harder. Why, I wondered since the book I was looking for was way out of my “comfort genre”, did I care so much whether she found it or not? She kept tapping and asking the same question while I kept repeating, “no, nope”.

Suddenly, she said, “Look at this”. There on the screen was a YouTube video with a woman holding up two books. The images were tiny but as she zoomed in, there it was, the illusive book I had been looking for. Winterset Hollow, by Jonathon Edward Durham. I knew she had found it only because of the freaky, very freaky, hare on the cover.

My companions heard me yelp from the back of the store. When I asked her how she found it, she simply said, “I’ve always had a knack”. She explained that since she was little she could always find things.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have any in stock but not to fear, Amazon is here to save the day. Tracy (daughter) ordered 2 copies, one for me and one for her. Perhaps, I have found a new genre to enjoy. We’ll see if it was worth all the trouble that me and several other people went through just to find a book based only on a drawing on a book jacket.

It just goes to show that in research it’s best to not ever give up…. nor judge a book by its cover like I did with the “diner waitress” looking researcher. She was a crackerjack!!!

The Jungle, the Barge, Ipreet and the Yogi.

The shadows in the jungle were deeply green and impenetrable to those without eyes to see. The soft breeze was cool, yet the air was also warm and cloying. Her light, filmy garments clung to her wet skin. She felt… she felt like she was warmly alive, sensual, moved.

She had come to the pools of Naemahn. How she had come, she didn’t know. Why was she here? Who had brought her? What was she to do? And yet, not knowing was not unsettling as she stood at the edge of the water. These were subtle and slow moving streams connecting miles of waterways.

The water was covered completely with green algae, large pads of lily with erect stems supported graceful and large, creamy pink blossoms. Through the soft light, blossoms of ruby, violet and golden flowers could be seen peeking out along small paths into the interior catching what light penetrated the shadows.

Large birds with soft grey feathers and long beaks stood on spindly legs that pierced the water. Brightly colored parrots flew randomly and silently through the dense canopy above the water. Other creatures moved through the underbrush, soundlessly on soft padded feet, eyes glowing as they lowered their heads to drink from the pools. All the sounds were muffled and murmured almost imperceptibly to those without ears to hear.

A luxurious flat bottomed barge painted with many colors pulled up in front of her. It was draped in silk fabrics that waved softly as they caught the breeze and completely obscured what was inside. A stunning woman dressed in purple and lavender, embroidered in golden thread, appeared on the deck and invited her to board. Without hesitation she stepped aboard, noticing only at that moment that other rafts similar to this one were seemingly languishing but slowly floating through the waterway.

The woman held open the curtains and a fragrant interior slowly came to light as her eyes adjusted to the candle light. Smoke from incense filled the room. The heady scents of frangipani, myrrh, frankincense, bergamot, rose, clove, cedar, patchouli and more seemed to sedate her. The interior was filled with a pallet and cushions that were covered in the most lush fabrics in saturated jewel tones. The many shades of greens, blues, reds and yellows dazzled the eyes. Every sense was heightened.

The woman motioned for her to sit among the many cushions. She did not resist. She saw no reason to. The barge rocked slowly as it moved away from the shore. The woman, whose name was Ipreet, began to loosen her clothes and slipped them from her shoulders. She sat next to her and gently laid her back on the cushions. The pleasure she felt from the movement of the boat, the many fragrances, the soft light, and Ipreet’s hands, caused her to move gently like a cat.

Ipreet began to massage her slowly and softly with oil of which she could not identify. Its fragrance and softness was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Slowly Ipreet had removed her clothes entirely and was massaging her breasts, her thighs, her stomach, arms and feet and reaching to touch her most delicate parts causing her to reach the heights of ecstasy without letting her reach the peak where every feeling would be released.

After sometime, she felt someone board the raft and enter the room. It was a man. He was dressed in a pure white robe, a white turban and he was barefoot. He had a white beard and deep brown eyes that were almost black and there was a golden light emanating from them. Her legs were open and he sat at her feet.

Ipreet brought him a brass plate with a fragrant smoke climbing sensually to the ceiling. She was feeling an intense desire for this man, though she did not know him. She wanted him to touch her… to continue what Ipreet had started. Where he sat, she could see that he had a large penis. She moved sensually as to arouse him but he remained flacid. She wanted him to enter her. She wanted to have what she knew would be the most remarkable fireworks of her life but he sat there and only smiled at her showing perfectly white teeth and full lips.

Ipreet slowly covered her body as she lay there. She remained uncovered from the waist down. She made no effort to cover her private parts. She wanted the man to make love to her, but he brought the plate between her legs and blew the warm smoke into her. As he did this, she exploded into a million stars of every color. He stayed there, it seemed to her, for seconds, minutes or hours, she didn’t know.

She fell into a deep and mystical sleep filled with beautiful and strange dreams. When she awoke, she was at the waters edge, rocking gently. She was alone. Ipreet and the stranger were gone. The dim interior of the barge was still lit with candles and the incense still burned. She moved to get up and she was aware that she was once again clothed. Her skin felt soft and the fragrance lingered on her skin and in her hair, evidence that she had not been dreaming.

She stepped off the boat onto the jungle floor and moved into the shadows. It was as if no time had passed. She needed no guide. She seemed to know her way out. She felt more alive and fulfilled than she had ever felt before.

She would not soon forget what had happened to her this day… or was it night?

The Cat on the Doverfell

By Peter Christen Asbjörnsen and Jörgen Moe from “East of the Sun and West of the Moon”. Read by Karen Peterson.

This is a story that Jack read to the children on Christmas Eve for many years.

I hope you enjoy listening to it as much as we always have. Of course, I don’t read it half as well as Jack always did.

Happy Yule Tide

This is How We Do It. ‘Tis the Season.

I guess each and every one of us has our own experience and perspective. My perspective is one of myth and fairytale. Drawing names for gift giving and putting heart and soul into creating handmade gifts of wood, clay, wax, paints and pencils and wool threads, paper and fabric, each item made with a particular person in mind.

We’re grateful for a warm place to bake and for creating special foods. We invite family and friends to sit at our table and around the cozy fire. We read books and share stories and warming drinks.

During the season we gather evergreen boughs and leaves and branches with berries from parks to make wreaths and garlands to decorate the house and to give away. We hide small gifts and candy to fill the stockings for Jul morning and pretend the elves have visited through the night.

We’ve spent hours creating our special gifts, hiding them behind our backs if someone passes by unexpectedly. We don’t even share who’s name we’ve drawn… so there’s an air of anticipation… if John drew my name, I might get a painting or something sculpted of wood. If it’s Ivan, I might get a bonsai, if it’s Laura, maybe a knitted scarf or small bottles of homemade bitters. If it’s Joannah, there’s a million possibilities, and from Jerald, handmade candles or a handbraided dog leash or something of leather. From me, someone will get something knitted or a hand-made book.

We use hand decorated brown paper for wrappings and jute ribbons or recycled papers and ribbons from last year and hand cut paper snowflakes. Cards are made from John’s lino-cut designs, or made from recycled cards I recieved last year, repurposed for this year. This year I bought some from UNICEF.

I’m an anti-theist, if a label is required. God doesn’t play into the season, for me. I love the magic of stringing lights and singing and bringing a tree in the house… a tradition that pre-dates what we now call Christmas, Xmas, etc.

I dont care what other people do. If they want to celebrate as they’re told by media advertisements and to go into debt and to get stressed during October, November and December, they can go ahead. I don’t care. We’ll be over here creating and welcoming the darker, colder days with good cheer. This is how we welcome the ending of this year and the beginning of the new with family and friends.

I understand the bah humbug spirit pervasive in society. There’s good reason, of course, but for me it’s deeper and richer and full of meaning. There is the harvest, then the darker and colder season that engulfs us all as we turn away from the sun for some months.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that I also know that there are the less fortunate who don’t have the ability to create such warmth and good cheer, and for that I lament. We’ll do what we can.

Why I Believe in Santa

Me and my brother, Steve, as believers.

As a child, I easily believed that the Santas, whose laps we sat upon, were real.

I didn’t question how such a big guy could fit down our chimney or fly in a sled pulled by reindeer and land on our roof or deliver presents to all the children of the world in one night.

I was a believer.

But then there came a time when I understood that a big Santa couldn’t fit down our chimney. But, I was undaunted when I learned through book learning that Santa was an elf.

Now, it all makes sense. Santa is an elf and an elf is small and magical and unlimited in its powers. Of course, he has a tiny sled and tiny reindeer and he can land on our roof and with no problem, come down our chimney. And elves are not constrained by the limitations of space and time, so children everywhere can wake up to presents under the tree.

You can’t imagine the relief I felt when I had this realization. When there is such evidence that Santa is an elf, there’s no reason to require faith or belief.

And this is why I find such joy in the season. 🤗🌲🎁

Santa Claus!!!