Mariah, the Leprechaun loves to watch her father milking the red white head cow. He always started with pulling a stool from the wall and setting it under him as he approached the cow’s elders, her sacks of milk. He was about 14 inches off the ground and the stool had some hay stuck to the two feet on it. Her father balanced on the stool, leaning it as needed, his head tight against the cows flank. He ran his hands over the teats knocking away any dirt and getting the cow ready to give over the load of milk, no longer destined for her calf but to be shared by the household, for better and worse, for butter and buttermilk, for cream for deserts and for milk for drinking.
This creamy concoction was poured liberally on porridge also in the mornings. He always said a few unintelligible words, maybe calling the cow’s name, Bessie, as he got ready for this work. As a child Mariah would listen at the cowshed door and hear the milk hit the bottom of the pail in a rhythmic splash up the sides catching air as it fell down into the bottom. The rhythm got faster as the milk flowed and as the up and down motions of her father’s hands settled into the release of milk from the cow. These sounds, three or four, sang to each other as the pail filled up with the warm sweet creamy milk until it reached the top, where a layer of creamy froth, over an inch thick, settled on the top, waiting for Mariah. She would run her index and middle finger through the top of the pail again and again until she was satisfied, and walked away with a few white smears on her face and clothes. She liked to come and see her father pour a half cup of milk into a lid for the cat to have every morning as a thank you for his efforts at keeping the population of rodents down.
Now that Mariah is all grown up, she still likes to get into that creamy milk top, but it is not tolerated by the dwarf who now milks the cows under Uishneach’s supervision. She had a dream of scoopong out cream from her dish, going up the side of the dish as Uishneach, talked. In the dream she was able to tune him out completely, no longer hearing a word he said. She fell into a trance of eating and was happy to miss the talk, whatever it happened to be at that time.
She thought she might run the dream by the Druid Bernie, in case she was missing something. She knew he liked cream himself, and noted that it could splash out the sides of his mouth as he fed himself with gusto, at a recent feast.
Druid Bernie came down the avenue followed by the hedgehog family. He was carrying a little bunch of leaves, neatly knit into a holder, into which he had put wild strawberries from the nearby banks of the avenue. He offered her some wild strawberries, as he sat and rested his legs on a flat tree stump covered with moss.
He told her to be the cream of her dream and Mariah launched into “I am the cream, I am so sweet and swirly on her tongue. As soon as I enter her mouth, I become her. I just know that I will have a long life transformed into white fat globlus all over her body. I will have a net work to work with, all over her body.” And what will Mariah get in return the druid asked? And the cream said in her silky voice, “ I transporte her back to her childhood, where cream and honey were her second loves. They blocked out the pains of not getting her own way. It blocked out the world of older siblings, of her mother’s demands for her. She just loved sitting at the table surrounding the honey or squatting beside that bucket using my fingers to have her fill of the foods of the land of milk and honey.” Mariah took a long breath considering what had just been said. Duuid Bernie noted she longed now for those foods and used them in the same way to block out what ever was unpleasant for her in her relationship with Uishneach. She sometimes wanted to live on her own but had not the courage to do this or talk openly with him about what they wanted to achieve together.
The druid suggested she focus on her own gold of looking for the gold of her life, of identifying that for herself and going about her own business. When would she fill up with the milk of human kindness and use that as the honey and cream that fills her up. It would be much more satisfying than the fat and sugar destined for her hips after a moment on the lips.
Mariah looked away down the lane and stared at the mother hedgehog who had wandered off. The druid was nodding off and his wild strawberries were at his feet being tackled by the young hedgehogs. Maria had hoped she would be able to bring the wild strawberries home and pour some thick cream onto them with honey and mash them all up with a fork before consuming them. She set off for home picking up some of her own wild strawberries, pondering what the druid said. The end.
The above photos were taken yesterday above EMU, as the sky was taken over by storm clouds as well as sunshine.
Rose is doing battle with ants. They seem to have a psychic ability to figure out where she has been with the honey pot, where she left down an errant spoon or a drop of sweet tea, laced with milk and honey. They marshal forces and have a long line of ants carrying away what makes them sing. Rose is torn between wiping them away with a wet sponge followed by vinegar water and keeping the place very very clean everywhere. Her remedy of ant poison makes her feel guilty about the loss of ant life combined with being mostly ineffective. She thinks the ants use the honey to recover from the poison.
And if you want to work with your favorite food that makes you unconscious mostly, behind which you love to hide, be sure to come and let me know if you want to work with your dreams. They will lead you home and the more you work with them the more they work with you. You can contact me through this site. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.