Paw and Boot

"Have you a corner or stone itching to be scratched first?" Hand was licking his paw and preening his ears and muzzle. His whiskers now glistening with the full Wildness of Hare.

Shore knew she would start with the Earth Worms. "Yes," is all she said. She was the quiet one. Her brother was not.

"Then let's get on with the givings, sister dear. Cross and criss and leave the bliss. This place be blessed. Hurray,"  The two bopped hands and paws like two boxers preparing for a match. It was of course a sort of match this day of Feeding the Land.

From the sky above the prairie front Those Who Watch kept their eyes on the tracks that lit the land's skin with Hare and Human prints. Bounding from corner post in leaps counted by sevens Hand covered the low land.

Black rubber boot prints appeared more slowly yet firmly evident in a path that started at the door of the cozy kitchen, stopped at the cedar wood bin where dark rich compost was being made. Silent Shore fed the words her magic equal to all the goodness the red dirt-makers churned out day in day out.

All through the day leading up to the Equal Moon Harvest Moon the Blended Hare siblings fed the land with Wildness.

While Shore and Hand were busy with their jolly track-making a journey of another sort was taking place in the heavens. A golden burrow-- also on a trailer-- was pulled by a strongly muscled pirate of a Human making his way down a snow-like grade of clouds. Within the golden burrow, a mother pushed that push of all ancient pushes.

Click on the image for a closer look at the 'snow-like grade of clouds.'

"Nearly there my darling, nearly there," The Pirate though always fierce and manly in his everyday was always overcome with tenderness when his dear wife was in her birthing time.

Between pants, and a final contraction, the fully formed and miniature blended hare slid from the cozy kitchen of her mother's womb. She arrived hollering.

From their places on the skin of the prairie front Hand and Shore stopped. In mythic time their work of feeding the land was done. Shore deftly leaped from her black rubber roots, and left them neatly beside the pile of small stones near the land's gate, slipped out of her hoodie folding it on top. Hand shrugged off the denim patchwork coveralls, giving it one last rub ... for luck.

"I wonder what they will name her?" both the siblings asked in perfect synchronicity.

From the golden burrow on trailer Those Who Watched heard the mother Hare say, "Hillary. We will name her Hillary Storm."

With that name said, Hand and Shore joined hand and paw and leaped one gigantic leap together --like the masterful Hares they are. And they were gone.

If you are lucky, and the land is truly blessed, evidence of Wild will be scattered like dried raisins here and there ... keep your eyes open. say thank you when you cross, and remember to listen more often to things than to beings.

That is all, there is no more.