by Pam Webber
“Are you sick?” Win asked.
“No. Just old.” Something else flashed in Nibi’s eyes and tinted her voice.
Nettie started to question her further but stopped when she caught Win’s eye. When Nibi wanted them to know more, she’d tell them.
“This is not a typical dreamcatcher,” Nibi continued. “Making ones like it will be the hardest work you’ve ever done.”
Win didn’t hesitate to answer, “Yes, ma’am.”
Nettie agreed. “We have all summer.”
“Not quite. They need to be finished by mid-August.”
“Why then?”
Nibi hesitated. “You two will need to be getting ready for school about that time.”
Win caught Nettie’s eye again. What was Nibi not saying?
“If you’re going to build dreamcatchers, you need to understand the legend.” Nibi pointed to a fresh spiderweb in the corner of the porch, its creator busily bundling a wasp. “Centuries ago, an Ojibwe grandmother was doing the same thing, watching a spider build an intricate web. Her grandson became frightened by the spider and wanted to kill it. The grandmother stopped him, eased his fear, and taught him to how to appreciate the beauty of the web and the life creating it. Grateful for her protection, the spider gave the grandmother an extraordinary gift, a strong web spun between her and the moon to trap dark spirits and keep her from harm.”
“Why put it between her and the moon?” Nettie asked.
“Because that’s where darkness lives.”
Hearing the legend made the dreamcatcher seem even more mystical, powerful.
“For some tribes, the dreamcatcher is a symbol of the human spirit. Each part represents a unique gift of Nature and brings with it special meaning.” Nibi ran her hands along the rim. “The red willow ring represents the circle of life.”
“Would any type of tree work?” Nettie asked.
“No. Red willow is not only strong but also flexible enough to bend in half and not break.”
“Why is it wrapped in a vine?”
“This isn’t just any vine. It’s grapevine, which helps protect the ring and symbolizes life after death.”
Nibi’s fingers moved to the intricate latticework in the middle of the ring. “The web symbolizes protection. Dark spirits hide in bad dreams and enter our souls as we sleep. Just as a spider’s web traps insects, the dreamcatcher’s web traps bad dreams and the darkness they veil.” Nibi pointed to the purple stone suspended in the web. “The amethyst symbolizes the spider. She protects us by devouring the bad dreams and allowing the good ones to reach us through the portal.”
Nettie pulled back the small white feathers with black tips. “Why is it covered with these?”
“Those are the feathers of a snowy owl. Some tribes view them as the wisest of all birds, while others view them as omens of darkness.”
“Which is it?”
“Both. Nature is never either-or. Covering the portal with their feathers symbolizes wisdom, our ability to choose between light and dark, good and evil.”
Nettie shook her head. “Those are some powerful feathers.”
“What about these?” Win pointed to the thirteen strings suspended at the bottom of the ring. The first seven strings grew progressively longer, while the last six grew shorter. Each string had a gold feather tied in the middle and an arrowhead attached to the end.
“The strings symbolize the thirteen phases of the moon. Waning moons get smaller, while waxing moons get bigger. A full moon appears in the middle of each cycle.”
“Why are they part of the dreamcatcher?”
“Because they also symbolize the ability to discern light in the presence of darkness. Each phase of the moon balances the amount of light available, which in turn balances Nature.”
Nettie touched the feathers tied in the middle of each string. “What type are these?”
“Those are the feathers of a golden eagle, the greatest of all birds. My grandmother said some eagles are so brave and fly so high that the sun turns their feathers gold. They can see farther than any other bird and are so strong they can fly for hours at a time, especially in an east wind.”
“Why in an east wind?”
“Because they’re heading toward dawn. Their feathers symbolize courage and hope.”
Win balanced the tip of one of the arrowheads on her finger. “And these?”
“Arrowheads signify strength and commitment. Most important, they remind us to stay alert, always watchful. The stones used to make them arise from deep earth; they’re hard and strong yet capable of being shaped to do the work necessary to survive.”
A breeze spun the dreamcatcher. The varying lengths of the strings prevented the feathers and arrows from becoming tangled with one another. The weight of the arrowheads brought the ring to a gentle stop.
“Individually, these elements represent faith, wisdom, courage, hope, strength, and commitment. Together they make a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.” Nibi arched her right hand from her forehead toward her eye, Monacan hand talk for Do you see? Do you understand?
Win and Nettie responded yes by curling and tilting their right hands.
“You’ll need the same qualities to build your dreamcatchers.” Nibi arched her hand again.
Following Win’s lead, Nettie slowly hand-signaled that she understood. What had started as a summer project seemed to be taking on a much bigger meaning. Faith she had, but the rest she’d never had to worry about before.
Nibi answered her unspoken question. “Time and patience, child. Time and patience.”
Nettie nodded. Pushing the white feathers aside, she peeked through the portal at her distorted reflection in the wavy glass window. “Sometimes bad dreams make it through?”
“Yes. Some dark spirits are so powerful, dreamcatchers alone can’t stop them.”
“What more does it need?’
“You. And everything you learn during the journey to create it.”
Nibi crossed the ties of her chest-to-knees apron behind her back, then knotted them in front. Made of thin leather, the apron had a dozen pockets that held everything from twine and scissors to salves. Empty ones were for whatever she found and needed during her treks around the mountains. A machete, small enough to be quick and sharp enough to slice paper, hung from a loop on the side of the apron. Nibi used it to harvest plants, clear brush, peel bark, and kill slant-eyed snakes foolish enough to refuse her one time offer to leave.
Nibi pulled a bottle from one of her shelves. “We’re going off-trail today, and the bugs will be hungry. Cup your hands.”
Nettie turned her nose from the tart-smelling liquid and rubbed it onto her exposed skin. By sunset, she’d be covered with red speckles anyway. “Bugs like me.”
“It’s the scent of your warm blood,” Nibi said.
“Then I’d just as soon be cold-blooded.”
“I thought you were afraid of snakes.”
“That’s right, snakes are cold-blooded, aren’t they?”
“You remember how to tell the dangerous ones from the harmless ones, right?”
“Of course,” Nettie said. “But both slither and bite.”
Nibi laughed. “You two get some twine and another knife out of the barn while I pack us some lunch; then we’ll get going.”
Cool darkness and the scent of silage and fresh hay dominated the dimly lit barn as Nettie pulled a roll of twine from a stack in the corner and Win selected a knife from those hanging on the wall. Turning to leave, Nettie bumped into an old farm table, causing a balled-up burlap sack to flop open. Half a dozen tiny gray blobs with little tails scurried through the dust in all directions. Mouse babies.
Nettie jumped back. “Damnation! Nibi needs a cat.”
“Or a couple of black snakes.” Win said, giggling.
“Very funny.”
Rejoining Nibi, they headed down the mountain.
While the Oak’s Landing side of the river had a beautifully sculpted ri
ver walk, Nibi’s side did not. Crossing Route 56, they waded through tall grass and prickly brush until they intersected a game trail. In single file, they zigzagged around trees, boulders, and clumps of Nature’s debris. Along the way, they startled a doe, sent the squirrels into a panic, and surprised a fox breakfasting on an unlucky chipmunk.
Moving at a steady pace, Nibi talked over her shoulder. “There’s a big stand of red willows about half a mile upriver. If we’re lucky, we’ll find some just the right size.”
Nettie and Win struggled to keep up, having to stop over and over to remove the ropy briars that captured their clothes, skin, and hair.
“The stickers are awful this year,” Nettie complained, wiping linear dots of blood from her arm.
“I feel like a pincushion,” Win said.
“No whining, you two. Keep up,” Nibi called.
The sun indicated midmorning before Nibi pointed to a cluster of young trees with reddish-brown bark. “There they are. Your saplings will need to be about a foot taller than you and half the width of your wrist. Less, and they’re not strong enough. More, and they’re harder to mold.”
Nettie and Win body-measured dozens of saplings until they found two the right size. Under Nibi’s supervision, they took them down at the base and angled the ends so they fit together.
“Pinch off the small sprouts and carefully cut off the larger stems. Preserve as much bark as you can. It helps keep the wood strong.”
When the trees were pruned, rolled, and tied, Nettie and Win sat in a patch of moss to take a break.
Nibi waved them back to their feet. “There’s no time to rest. You want to find the grapevines and get them down before the day heats up.”
Nettie scanned the canopy. Unlike other vines, wild grapevines did not kill their host trees by strangling their trunks. Grapevines preferred to grow along sturdy branches and protect their host and themselves by dropping their bluish-purple trails high enough off the ground to avoid most damaging insects and animals, including the two-legged variety.
“I don’t mind climbing, but the trees with the best vines don’t have low branches. How are we supposed to get up there?”
“I’m sure you two will figure something out.”
It took half an hour for Nettie and Win to find a vining tree with a limb close enough to the ground that one of them could reach it if they stood feet to shoulder. Drawing the long straw, Win braced her back against the tree and flexed her knees so Nettie could ladder up.
“You’re heavier than you look.”
“Keep that to yourself, please.”
After multiple tries, Nettie pulled herself up and over the lowest limb. Lying belly down to catch her breath, she ignored the bark burns on her arms and legs. “We never had to do this in gym class.”
“Nibi said it would take strength,” Win massaged her shoulders.
“Knowing what she said and understanding this is how we’re supposed to get it are two different things.”
Nibi watched from a distance, her studied gaze not amused.
Limb by limb, Nettie made her way up the tree, dodging menacing moonseed and poison ivy to reach the branch hosting the desired vine. Again on her belly, she inched forward, grateful for the limb’s sturdiness. Approaching a cluster of leaves, she froze.
“Oh, hell. There’s a snake up here, a big one. It’s a copperhead.”
“What the heck is a copperhead doing up there?”
Nettie inched back. “Taking a damn vacation! What do you think it’s doing? It’s eating a baby bird.”
“Take it easy. That fox must be getting most of the food down by the river.”
“Win!”
“Okay. Don’t panic. If it’s eating, it’s not worried about you. Keep backing up.”
“Couldn’t you have had one of your visions before I got up here?”
“Who said I didn’t? Maybe that’s why I ended up with the long straw.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Just kidding. I didn’t see anything. I told you the visions were unpredictable.”
Intent on eating the remaining baby birds, the snake showed little interest in Nettie as she worked her way back to the trunk. Climbing higher, she broke a small branch to use as a deterrent in case the legless menace decided to go north instead of south when it left. “It’s a shame about those babies.”
“Snakes need to eat too. Nature’s balance.”
“What is it with you and snakes, anyway? Don’t they scare you at all?”
“Only the ones I can’t see.”
“What’s the difference? Big one, little ones, or sticks that look like them—they all scare the bajeebies out of me.”
Nettie shivered as the copperhead lazily swallowed the last hapless tiddler, pausing afterward, as if enjoying the memory. With a lumpy middle and an ungainly wriggle, it exited the tree and headed toward the river.
Nettie inchwormed back out on the branch and past the now-empty nest. Spotting a downy feather among the twigs, she stuck it in her pocket. Someone needed to remember those tiny lives. She cut down the vine and backed out of the tree.
By the time they’d dropped the rest of the grapevines they needed, she and Win were tired, thirsty, hungry, itching, and bleeding.
Win braced her hands on her knees. “Nibi, can we go to the river for a drink?”
“Not yet. I want to show you something farther up.” Nibi stripped some of the heart-shaped grape leaves from the harvested vines and passed them around. “Eat these. They’ll hold you over until we get there.”
Nettie puckered at the tangy taste. “That’s awful.”
Nibi stuffed extra leaves in an apron pocket. “Nature supplies what you need, not necessarily what you like.”
“Well, it would have been nice if she’d supplied those vines a little closer to the ground and left that blasted snake down at the river.”
“Stop whining. This is the easy part.”
“Easy?”
“Yes. Easy.”
Nettie started to question what could possibly be harder but stopped. Nibi’s tone wasn’t teasing. “Sorry, Nibi.”
With the saplings and vines strapped to their backs, they made their way up the mountain and into a dense area of trees and brush. Using her machete, Nibi cut a long path to a hidden clearing that opened to blue sky. Along the uphill side sat a cove of tall boulders protecting a small clear-water spring.
“You girls get a drink and wash up.”
Folks in Oak’s Landing occasionally called Nibi a water witch because of her ability to find water when no one else could. Nettie had never seen her do it until today. “How did you know about this place?”
“My father used to bring us here when we were little. There were berry bushes everywhere. We’d pick baskets full.”
Nettie searched the edges of the clearing, hoping the forest offered something other than leaves to silence her hunger. “What happened to them?”
“Evergreens blocked the sun, and the undergrowth crowded them out.”
Nettie and Win drank their fill of fresh water, then washed the blood from their cuts, scrapes, and bites. On the far side of the clearing stood the largest oak tree Nettie had ever seen. Its branches towered upward while its thigh-size roots and knees curled under and around nearby boulders. Moving into its cool shade, Win broke off two pieces of bark and handed one to Nettie. They rubbed the smooth underside on their broken skin, hoping for pain relief and less swelling.
Nettie stretched her arms wide to measure the width of the tree’s trunk. “How old do you suppose it is, Nibi?”
“Over two hundred, I’d guess. My father called it the Gospel Oak. Its roots run deep, and its spread is centered, which makes it strong.” She cupped her hands around one of the layered minion plants growing on the tree’s trunk and along the dips and curves of its branches. “Come look.”
Win peeked between Nibi’s thumbs. “It’s glowing. Green.”
Nettie followed, amazed. “You coul
d light a room with this stuff.”
“It’s called fairy fire.” Using her knife, Nibi chipped off clumps of bark hosting the glowing plant and placed them in her apron. “I’m going to see if it will grow on the oaks at home.”
Nibi’s fingers moved from the fairy fire to one of the oak’s tightly closed buds. She turned to scan the small stand of ash trees near the edge of the clearing. The ash’s leaves were already open and flush. “Win, how will the gardens do this summer?”
Win studied the oak’s buds, then the ash leaves, and closed her eyes. “If oak trees leaf first, summer will be dry, but if ash trees leaf first, then there will be plenty of rain. So this summer will be hot, with lots of rain, and the gardens will do well.”
Nibi nodded, pleased. “Let’s eat.” She pulled strips of dried venison and rounds of acorn bread from her apron and passed them to Nettie and Win. As they ate, the wind began swirling above them, tipping treetops in waves. Nibi’s eyes narrowed as she studied the ridgeline, almost as if she were eavesdropping.
Win followed her gaze. “Is the storm coming earlier than you thought?”
“No. This wind carries no water. Listen, daughter. The mountains are restless.”
“About what?”
“They’re not saying. Yet.” Nibi stayed deep in thought until the wind died down. Dusting crumbs from her hands, she went to the edge of the woods to gather a plant with long stalks and small leaves.
“What’s she picking?” Nettie asked.
“Foxglove. It helps the heart.”
“It hasn’t flowered yet.”
“It doesn’t need to. The extract comes from the leaves.”
Nibi called to them. “Let’s head back. There’s still work to do.”
The hike down the rocky mountainside with the saplings and vines on their backs took as much energy as the hike up.
Nibi walked so far ahead of them, Nettie could barely see her. “For someone who’s supposed to be old, she’s hiking circles around us.”
“She’s up and down these mountains every day. We’ve been sitting at school desks for nine months. We’ll get faster.”
“I sure hope so.”
They caught up with Nibi when she stopped along Route 56 to harvest some long seed pods from a Catawba tree. Nettie and Win settled in nearby shade to rest.
