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off_fleek_geekHanalla rested for a moment, leaned back against a tree along the path. It had taken her all afternoon, but the worst of the underbrush that had encroached on the narrow trail was now cleared. She knew someday she would no longer be up to the task, and nature would erase her works, but she was determined that time would not be soon. She took in the quiet noises of the forest around her, felt the spots of sun that got thru the canopy above warm on her skin, breathed in the warm green smells and it was good. Calming. Feeling renewed, she gathered her pack and the bundle of fruits she had with her and carried on deeper into the forest.
It wasn't much farther until she reached the small glen she was seeking. Surrounded by wild plant growth but never overgrown, the entrance was always clear enough for her to move about easily and find the statue. It was almost as tall as Hanalla, and reminded her of the grandmother that raised her, that lead her here as a child. Carved in the likeness of a woman with a calm, determined expression surrounded by flowers, it gave her the feeling it had always been part of the glen and always would be.
She took the cloth and jar of water from her pack, and took her time cleaning the streaks and dirt that had accumulated. Particular attention had to be paid along the crack that had formed down the side of the face and neck, to clean out the dirt but not cause the edges to chip further. Hanalla had once considered fixing the crack, but it seemed disrespectful. She couldn't add to what the goddess was, and everyone had cracks they had lived thru and survived. You never got to repair those really, but they helped make us who we are.
It took most of the day to do her work all told. Her children thought it was a waste of time, and her husband was smart enough to keep his opinions to himself in this case. Why go through all the effort of cleaning and devotions to an old cracked goddess you can't even name? There were newer gods and goddesses, powerful and sensual ones with beautiful temples right in town. Hanalla shook her head as she placed the fruits around the feet of her goddess. You don't give up those you love because they're broken, or old, or no longer what others approve of. You love them. That's it.
The sun was getting lower, and Hanalla knew it was time to leave. As she turned back to the entrance to the glen, she smiled at the flowers that had bloomed and filled the grounds to either side. This time they were covered in thousand of little pink flowers with white stripes that she had never seen before. Hanalla made an effort when she came to bring new fruits from various lands so her goddess got some variety, and it always warmed her heart to see it was appreciated.
It wasn't much farther until she reached the small glen she was seeking. Surrounded by wild plant growth but never overgrown, the entrance was always clear enough for her to move about easily and find the statue. It was almost as tall as Hanalla, and reminded her of the grandmother that raised her, that lead her here as a child. Carved in the likeness of a woman with a calm, determined expression surrounded by flowers, it gave her the feeling it had always been part of the glen and always would be.
She took the cloth and jar of water from her pack, and took her time cleaning the streaks and dirt that had accumulated. Particular attention had to be paid along the crack that had formed down the side of the face and neck, to clean out the dirt but not cause the edges to chip further. Hanalla had once considered fixing the crack, but it seemed disrespectful. She couldn't add to what the goddess was, and everyone had cracks they had lived thru and survived. You never got to repair those really, but they helped make us who we are.
It took most of the day to do her work all told. Her children thought it was a waste of time, and her husband was smart enough to keep his opinions to himself in this case. Why go through all the effort of cleaning and devotions to an old cracked goddess you can't even name? There were newer gods and goddesses, powerful and sensual ones with beautiful temples right in town. Hanalla shook her head as she placed the fruits around the feet of her goddess. You don't give up those you love because they're broken, or old, or no longer what others approve of. You love them. That's it.
The sun was getting lower, and Hanalla knew it was time to leave. As she turned back to the entrance to the glen, she smiled at the flowers that had bloomed and filled the grounds to either side. This time they were covered in thousand of little pink flowers with white stripes that she had never seen before. Hanalla made an effort when she came to bring new fruits from various lands so her goddess got some variety, and it always warmed her heart to see it was appreciated.
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Date: 2024-07-09 06:29 pm (UTC)