Nest-builders

Max is not a small man; his body is large and so is his head. The bowler hat for a large Hawaiian man is more like a medium size salad bowl. I looked at the hat filled with the two silver eggs. We are going to need one large nest. The eggs were streaked with the look of a watercolor; muted shades of green and soft glowing yellow circled the shell. The glow pulsed; life within made itself known. It was a short walk back to my cottage even if I took the longer path that avoided the downed cedar. I pulled my paisley wood shawl off my shoulders and used it to wrap the hat and eggs into a snug bundle. I imagined Raven, remembered him the first time we met at The Cafe. The laugh lines in his face, the single glove, and the napkin pouch used to transport mugs of tea and platters of heavenly shaped cinnamon toast. I wondered where he was now and laughed at the thought of seeing him transporting the bowler hat ... the image fit like a stork. That was a bit of silliness, Pale. Silly Witch! As soon as I said 'Silly Witch' I felt his gloved hand on my elbow, heard his low deep croak. "I am with you dear Miel though at the moment I am delivering mugs of tea and cinnamon toast. Before sunset I will join you, silly witch." I was glad to know Raven was aware of the birth, and glad too that he was coming ... later. For a while I needed the company of women to surround me in this newest venture with magic.

Maha's little blue Toyota pickup was parked in my driveway. The bed of the truck was heaped with long slender sticks and trimmings from last season's grape vines.  The door to my cottage was open. I heard the song of her harp before I heard her and smelled the brew of tea.

A grin and a lovely greeting
We commend to mother dear
A grin and a lovely greeting
We send to the boy within
A grin and a lovely greeting
Come from a heart that's true
A grin and a lovely greeting
Me harp and me voice 
Sing true ...

Lullaby, lullaby, lullaby ... 

Maha has a beautiful voice and a talent for making up melody for the moment. Her hands love the work of gardening, and the whim of the harp's strings. Seeing my friend and hearing her and the harp sent me to tears. I set the bowler hat carefully into the soft folds of Mama Sing's yellow quilt on my couch and sat to let the sounds of celebration fill me.

"Lovely lullaby friend a slight correction. There are ..." I sat on the couch and undid the loose knot. "There are two eggs. Two boys or one boy and a girl?" The mystery of birth is just that, always. Additionally though, this was a birth that would reveal more when the silver eggs broke from the inside.


"Well done, mother dear." Maha joined me on the couch making sure the bundled eggs were secure in the hat. She said, "We've got backup. She'll be here anytime now. The Basket Maker is on the ferry. I'm a gardener, and the Harp is great support but what you need is an expert."

"Of course! It's been years."

"She was thrilled to get the call, and available. Which is lucky for us since I know the woman by reputation. She's an international celebrity these days."

I thought of the last time we were together and remembered the experimental kelp and citrus forms she was creating. Like nothing else before or since. I sure hope she'd be up for making a nest for brooding children of magic. But how did Maha know to get hold of The Basket Maker?

"Max!" I said without another thought.

"It was Max that made the call," Maha confirmed. "Max knows everyone. And if they don't know Max they do before long ..." Max had a way of becoming familiar without effort. He had many lifetimes of practice and was now facile with relationships; to see him in action was one of my greatest joy. I missed the large Hawaiian man already. I wondered when Max had called The Basket Maker but then ... time was the kahuna's instrument. He manipulated without bending too many rules as I understood his way. If I remembered I'd ask The Basket Maker when Max called her.

I needed a nap. Hatching eggs was going to be a lot of work. "Take the naps when you can, Mother Dear." Maha was already out the door unloading a blue plastic tarp to sort through the sticks and twigs in the truck. "I'll wake you when The Basket Maker gets here. Sweet dreams." She shut the door behind her and I headed for the quilts on my bed. I was asleep before my head touched the pillow.

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