I had a sneaking suspicion that this was *not* an ordinary tree. It’s on one side of the Valley, below the new ritual area that has agreed to allow me to build a labyrinth there and do a little ritual now and again. The first time this tree caught my attention was a few years ago, when I was walking at dusk and the sunset hit this tree just right; it was just glowing.
It caught my attention again the few days after I had felt pulled to the ritual area; I realised this tree was right below it, right where the dry creek bed lead down through a small runoff area and into the valley.
In fairy lore, the trees most twisted together are the most notorious of trees. And this tree, or group of trees twisting together….. they’re ash. Green Ash, just like in my front yard, the guardian of my home. Fortunately, we don’t have Hawthorne here; but we have plenty of Oak. It’s Ash, standing alone, instead of the three.
I have to say, I’m not particularly thrilled. I tend to want to let the daoine sidhe alone. I don’t go looking, and I don’t go asking, and I don’t encourage the connection. However, I may have no choice. I believe they are asking for an offering or homage, and I if I acknowledge and give them their due, they may choose to leave me be. One can only hope.
If they are more traditional old-worldish gentry, they may be content with a clootie and some milk. If they’re more local native-types, I may have to offer tobacco or something else. They may be a weird blend; this general area was founded by Scots and Irish; the town is named for an Irishman and I’m sure they brought their folklore AND their folk in that lore with them. Rats.
