Jack looked up at the tree. Kate had been right, this was clearly Grandmother Tree. As they stepped under its canopy, Kate dropped her pack. Jack did the same. He pressed his back against it, spreading his arms wide to place his arms against the trunk, with one hand to take Kate’s.
It felt right to embrace Grandmother Tree this way, looking out over the mountainside, but not sufficient, so after a moment he took off his parka and pressed The Sweater to the rugged bark. He thought of stripping further, to embrace the tree in just his broadcloth shirt or even his bare skin, but the air was chilly, and he might not be able to hold to the tree for long. Anyway, this felt like sufficient contact.
Jack felt Kate take his hand, and looked over to see that she had dome the same, removing her coat but leaving her sweater on. He wondered if she had a good enough view, but then gave his full attention to the sight before him, of the tree-covered mountain and the next mountain, its top shrouded in a cloud.
He put his head back, his neck and scalp in contact with the cold, wet bark, and his eyes closed without his noticing. His attention was given over entirely to his contact with Grandmother Tree, feeling as though his body were becoming one with it, feeling the stress put on the tree’s towering bulk by the wind, feeling the sap moving slowly, so slowly, inside the trunk. It felt as though only Kate’s hand in his kept him from losing his humanity completely, and he kept a firm hold on it.
His eyes opened, and he imagined a pair of eyes opening in the tree’s bark. He wondered if he and Kate were providing the tree with the rare gift of sight, allowing it to appreciate its surroundings with a new sense for a moment.
Snow was beginning to fall. It seemed to be falling in a very limited area. Were they on the leading edge of an advancing snowcloud? But it really did feel as thouh the snow were falling just for them. After only a couple of minutes, the snowfall began to drop off.
“Jack.” Kate’s voice seemed very loud in that quiet place. “Jack, the snow is moving. I think it’s leading us.”
Jack reluctantly pulled his body away from Grandmother Tree, surprised that it was so easy to disengage. He turned his body to look where she was pointing. Sure enough, there was a tiny patch of falling snow in the air, moving away from them, leaving a trail of snow-breadcrumbs.
He pulled his parka back on, shouldered his pack while Kate did the same, not taking his eyes off the snowfall. They began to walk in the direction the trail of snowflakes led them.
“This is quite a leading.”
“Yes. We must be close.”
This morning's Creating Together session was different: the meditation exercise, of leaning against Grandmother Tree on the mountainside, the arrival of a small patch of snowfall, all seemed perfect for The Lodge, a story which Kathe left unfinished, and which I intend to complete. Writing from Kathe's notes feels good. I feel as though it helps me stay connected to her, especially since the lead characters are named Jack and Kate, and she definitely intended for them to be stand-ins for John and Kathe.
I think this bit of writing is going to go directly into The Lodge, with little or no change, as part of their quest for the remote sculptures which serve as anchors for life on Earth.
The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Our ghosts are always with us. That doesn't mean their presence will always be pleasant."
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