The rain tumbled through the trees until more and even more clouds rolled in, covering everything with a soothing spectre of clammy obscurity that gathered and drifted for days, and then weeks, on and on into an endless fog of moist and dripping hollows and running rivulets and rushing cascades as I hunkered into the fireside and seldom moved far from home.
Drowsing, I let go of all outer disturbances and summoned the dream-spindle to guide me inside the storm. I closed my eyes and she appeared, almost immediately; she’d been waiting for me to make time, to clear the way and be still. I entered her world and bared my soul for the winds of her words to sweep over me, showing the viscera of true living.
After the sweet watering, she welcomed the winds of change. Nurturing their deepest heart-seeds, gently planting dreams within the seasonal wheel of change, she bound the ribbons to her dream-scape as the nestlings wintered on. Smoke spiraled from her cottage, and warmth was her treasured companion. A creatrix lived there in the void, gestating, forming the sacred bones of her deepest choices.
Passion stirred, seeking the will to emerge. Singing, she summoned proud bellies to bring forth tender new life, and for winter’s solitude to deliver her magnificent new wealth. Newlings filled their flowering time, bursting freedom again expressed in open-armed perfection. Musically, colourfully, spiritually, joyfully.
“Here”, she whispered, “here you come”, and plump, drunken white blooms of heavy wild roses fell open, in a resonance of joy as she passed. Her soil burbled with organismic sugars and damp, deep sound pounded it’s way into the root structure of all living plants. Awakening from some grim battle with stagnation and unrequited love, the buds stirred in their pale and gentle centres, yearning for her touch as she stalked the garden, loving each sweeting in it’s succulence of growth and urging.
Mother upon mother upon mother she stood, as light from her body spilled and dripped nectar into the swollen eyes of the gorgeously ugly green babies, mending, in a frenzied application of her lips and wrinkled fingers, dandling, caressing each fuzz coated, warm skull of promise. Lifting stones, peeling away death, she muttered the old words of her maidensongs, and tended in stiff, stooping reverence to the delivery of this year’s fruit. Snipping precious messages, she gathered gently, and glowingly danced each delicate pretty into her cool dark home.
“Come my loves, come along.” and she hobbled inside to fill the vases and the kettle.
Aromas blended in the wake of her, synergistic and whole, as the prattling of her slip and slippers flooded her silvery path. Time obeyed her need, publicly unnoticed, tidy and old. I watched the dreamspindle drift into the dense forest and I knew that even as we parted, I would know her eternally, and she would come to me whenever I was willing to listen and to learn from her ancient wisdom.
TALLEMAJA is Swedish for Pine Tree Mary, also known in other Scandinavian legends as Huldra and Skogsrå. She is the magical mistress of the enchanted woods – a wild forest woman who howls and dances in the dark, Mother Nature’s most beloved daughter, seductive, beautiful, mysterious and dangerous. Tallemaja eau de parfum is a forest chypre filled to the brim with hidden secrets, yet definitely featuring Rose Damascena, Virginian cedarwood, Amyris, Vetiver, Patchouli and Vietnamese oud (Evergreen Superior). Tallemaja is long-lasting, primal, earthy and sensual. A fairy-tale elixir for those who dare.