Weaving

We wove small apple twigs pruned from Maha's orchard in and out of the cedar bark skeleton.The gardener was not random in her selection of pruned branches. "Some of those apple buds will open while you sit," Maha was smiling as she worked." That ought to be a sweet surprise some morning Spring. We have plenty to wind around the whole nest at least twice." Like her beautifully tended gardens I would appreciate the art to this construction.

The Basket Weaver brought lengths of kelp--her trademark material-- with tubes, knobs and hold fasts still clinging to stones the size of small potatoes. Laughing her high-pitched giggle her nimble fingers twisted kelp into pockets. I thought of advent calendars I've always loved but haven't had in my life for years and imagined what could be tucked into the kelp for discovery once the babies had hatched. The hold fasts anchored on the inside on the nest in intervals. Fitting for a nest build above the ground.

Thin red alder branches are my favorite gatherings from the woods around my cottage. I have bundles of these long fingers that dry on the trunks as the limbs above reach for sun and life. Stored in empty tins or wrapped with ribbon and tied about the tipis we used to discourage eagles from hunting my hens and ducks, they are everywhere. Dozens of alder branches added to the nest for my eggs leaving soft tips poking out in random swatches. Finally, lengths of grape wines pruned off a week ago filled nicely into a strong wrap near the edge of the nest.

It was nearly dark before we finished layering and weaving apple twigs, alder sticks, kelp and grape vines into the giant nest. I heard his wings before I saw him as is usually the case. A Raven  in flight is an awesome sight and the displacement of wind with those wings is something to behold. The window beside the top of the bunk bed had been left open, Raven flew through with a bundle wrapped and secured with you guessed it, a safety pin.

"What timing, and you come bearing gifts," I was happy to see him and excited to introduce Raven to my old friend. Raven left the bundle on the bunk along with his feathered silver winged self. Transforming from bird to man he climbed the short ladder. We embraced. He kissed me and called me, "Miele. How are you?"

I stroked my belly and walked slowly to the couch where Max's bowler held the two silver eggs. "Amazed would say it all Silver-one." We sat on either side of the hat and took a moment to recognize this time. "We have a brood. Sure to keep us busy for at least ... the foreseeable future." Now that we were together the enormity of the journey threatened to overwhelm me. 

Instead I asked,"What have you in that bundle."

Raven replied, "Soft down and things to line the nest. Feathers. Scraps of wool. Pieces of this. Pieces of that." Raven climbed the short ladder to the bunk and returned with his treasure. Unwrapping the pin, he pulled at the downy contents until all of it heaped into a glorious muddle. His joy was contagious and that was a good thing.

Maha and The Basket Weaver watched us over the tops of steaming mugs of tea. Maha, known to many as The Gypsy Woman is Raven's old friend. When she is not tending her gardens or playing her harp Maha has a regular place at her round table at The Safety Pin Cafe. My Silver-haired Raven and she have a long and interesting history together. Rather than speak Maha walked to the harp that had been strangely silent in her case. I had forgotten about it until I saw the worn leather case. "Battered from trips into and through many dark forests," is how Maha often describes the weathered condition.

Raven looked up and nodded to Maha as she opened the case. And to The Basket Weaver, who I was about to introduce he said, "Nance of the Kelp. I should have know it was you Max would call."

"You know each other?" I was surprised and a little jealous of the familiar way Raven looked at the beautiful weaver. She is an old friend, but still ...

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