by Down, Reg
In the passenger car June Berry and Veronica were gazing out the window. They saw a few deer and a herd of elk with huge antlers grazing in a meadow. Johnny Top spied an eagle flying overhead and Farmer John spotted a coyote in the brush. He stood and watched them pass by.
At last, at lunch time, the train slowed down and entered a clearing in the forest. All around, redwood trees towered over their heads. Some of them looked really old. The passengers climbed down and wandered around. Aunt Sally and Uncle Finn had the picnic baskets on their arms. They chose a wooden table under the trees, spread out the meal, and everyone sat down to eat.
Far, far back at the cottage Tiptoes returned from the beach. All she found was Lucy waiting patiently in the dog house in the garden.
“What!” she exclaimed. “Has so much time passed already? I thought I’d be early.”
Tiptoes knew that everyone was going on the Skunk Train.
“I’d better hurry,” she said, and took off down the road. She got to the train station, but the train was gone. She flew down the tracks, cutting corners whenever she could. She sped up the valley—hardly paying any attention to the creatures that live in the forest: the Spirit of Noyo River swimming under the rushing waters, the Old Man of the Mountains deep inside the rocks, the fire spirit watchfully hovering over a herd of elk grazing in a meadow, and a coyote trotting alongside the tracks who looked at her with puzzled eyes as she zipped past.
Finally she saw the train. It had stopped in a clearing. All about were tall redwood trees. They were magnificent. Under one of them the two families sat at a picnic table. They were about to eat. She dashed to the table and landed on the butter.
“Here I am!” she cried, and Johnny Top and all the children burst out laughing, but the grown-ups didn’t understand why.
Chapter 54
The Spirit of the Redwood Grove
Tiptoes wandered through the redwood grove. The trees were so big, so huge! The loggers had left these last kings of the forest standing. They wanted to remind people of how the forest had been, once upon a time not long ago. The redwoods were wide at the bottom and narrow and slim at the top. They soared to the sky. Many of the trees were hundreds of years old, a few were over a thousand years old, and one, the biggest, was over two thousand years old. It was only a baby when the Sun Child had been born far, far away.
Tiptoes touched the trees. Their bark was soft and stringy. It had a warm, rusty-red color. High, high above the ground branches grew from the trunks and fanned out their dark, evergreen needles. She found the largest and oldest tree, opened her wings, and circled round and round the trunk as she flew upwards to find a branch to sit on. Then she sat far above the forest floor in the warm sunlight that played amongst the treetops. She looked down and watched the people wandering below. Further away she saw Tom and the girls running about and playing tag.
A gentle voice said, “Hello, Little One.”
Tiptoes looked around, but nobody was there.
The voice chuckled. It was kindly and deep.
Tiptoes looked around again, and still no one was there.
“You’re sitting on one of me,” said the voice.
Tiptoes leaped up—but there was nothing underneath her.
“Who’s that?” she said.
The voice chuckled again. Whoever it was, was having fun.
“You don’t have to jump up, Little One. The birds sit on us the whole time. I don’t mind at all. I like the birds—even the woodpecker who pecks holes in us.”
“You’re the tree spirit,” said Tiptoes. “But where are you? I can’t see you anywhere.”
“Oh-ho, Little One,” said the voice. “I am not the tree spirit—though they are all part of me. I am the Spirit of the Grove. Touch the space between the trees and you will see me.”
Tiptoes touched the space between the giant trees and there was the grove spirit. He had old, ancient eyes, deeper and gentler than a mother. Tiptoes also saw great suffering for all the trees that had been lost.
“Yes, yes, that is true—but I saved these trees,” said the grove spirit, reading her mind. “This grove is my heart and all that’s left of me. I filled the dreams of the logging men until they forgot about money and saw the beauty of my oldest ones. They saved them at the last moment.”
“They are magnificent,” said Tiptoes. “They really are.”
“Now I have lots of children trees beyond this grove,” said the grove spirit, “but they are never allowed to grow up. People forget that a tree farm is not a forest. A forest has spirit.”
Tiptoes nodded. She had seen the logging as she flew up the train tracks. She gazed at the Spirit of the Grove and saw again just how old and ancient he was. He must have seen so much over the years.
“How old are you?” she asked.
The grove spirit chuckled. “Far, far older than these trees,” he said. “For me, the life of an old tree is but a passing breeze. But I think you know how old I am, Little Spirit, don’t you?”
Tiptoes smiled.
“Oh-ho-ho, ho-ho,” chuckled the grove spirit. “You can’t fool me. You look so young, but if I put a wrinkle in your face for every year you have lived you would be a wrinkled old lady.”
“Please don’t do that,” laughed Tiptoes. “Don’t even think about it! I just wanted to hear your tale.”
“My tale! My tale! I have far too many years on me to tell my whole tale,” said the Spirit of the Grove. “But I will tell you one tale to take home with you to your oak tree growing far away by Running River. It goes like this.”
Chapter 55
Sequoia’s Tale
Long, long ago,” said the Spirit of the Grove, “I came as a seed from the sun. I ripened and grew inside the fruit of the fourth season. I grew quickly, too quickly; I was over-ripe. I never saw anything wrong with being so big and ripe, but I was too ripe to become one of the human-people-beings. I flew from the sun and hovered in the air. I was there when my big brother touched the great water. I was there when my big sister wove a silver ladder to the moon.
That is how old I am, Little One. I floated above the earth. I looked to the Sun Spirit shining above me. I gazed down at Asherah the Earth Mother. I loved them both, but I did not know who I was. I was large and dreamy; a cloud of bright mist in the air. I felt many things, I felt them deeply, but I knew nothing for I was almost asleep.
“O, Mother Earth! O, Great Sun Spirit!” my heart cried out at last. “Who am I? Where do I belong?”
“Look about,” said the Sun Spirit. “Some are like you.”
“Look about,” said Asherah the Earth Mother. “I have many children and some are just like you.”
I looked about. I searched the world, but saw nothing. I was too dreamy. I was a dream dreaming itself.
“O, Asherah! O, Great Sun Spirit!” I cried, “I have looked and found nothing.”
“You are looking too far,” they replied. “They lie all around you. Look for yourself—find your Self in them.”
I looked again, and I saw. I saw the trees rooted in Mother Asherah and living in the light of the Sun Spirit. Then I knew. I knew! For the first time I knew who I was for I saw myself as in a mirror. I hovered over the trees. I wandered far and wide over the forests. The earth looked so different then; all shrouded in mist and much warmer. I came to this valley. The mountains were lower, just hills, but already the river was singing her song. I saw the grandfathers of the great-great-grandfathers of these trees. I saw them and loved them. I reached down and touched them. I have been here since.
One day Mother Asherah came walking through this grove. Oh, Little One, she is beautiful. She walked through my trees touching them.
“You have found yourself,” the Earth Mother said to me.
“Yes,” I replied, “I have found myself … but I have no name.”
“I will call you Sequoia,” said Asherah. “Sequoia the Ever-Living.”
“And that is my name,” said the Spirit of the Grove. “I put
my name into the dreams of the human-people-beings and since that time that is what they call my trees.”
The Spirit of the Grove became quiet and Tiptoes waited.
“That is all,” said the Spirit of the Grove after a while. “That is enough tale for today.”
Then Sequoia the Ever-Living chuckled. “But if you come back, Little One, I’ll tell you another tale much longer than this—one so long you will definitely be old and wrinkled by the time I am finished.”
Chapter 56
Low Spring Tide
The Skunk Train rattled and clacked its way down the Noyo valley and out of the forest. It crossed over to Pudding Creek and slowly whistled its way into town. Tom was two times lucky and got to travel in the cab again. When they arrived at the station he climbed down and thanked the driver. Everyone piled into the cars and by the time they got back to the cottage it was almost four o’clock.
“The spring tide will be at its lowest soon,” said Farmer John. “Let’s go see.”
They hiked to the bluffs and climbed down to the beach. The tide was really far out—even Castle Jagged was standing high and dry, with seaweed hanging limply around its sides like a wet skirt. Tom and June and Veronica wandered around the sea stacks, gently touching the closed anemones clinging to the rock. They lifted the seaweed to see what was underneath and saw dozens of greeny-brown crabs scuttling away and hiding in the cracks.
After a while they joined Gramma and Johnny Top. They were hunkered down and gazing into a rock pool. All sorts of things were happening inside: periwinkles were wandering, limpets were clinging, mussels were huddling together, and a purple sea urchin was shouting, ‘Don’t step on me! Don’t step on me!’
“Look, Johnny Top, there’s a hermit crab,” said Gramma, pointing.
“Where? Where?” said Johnny Top. He couldn’t see it.
Gramma reached into the water and picked up a seashell. Tucked inside was a tiny crab. All they could see were his tucked-in claws. She held the shell still. Half a minute later the crab stuck out his head and looked around.
“A crab,” shouted Johnny Top. “He lives in a shell,” and he reached out and touched it. Quick as a wink the crab disappeared into his house.
Gramma held her hand flat over the water. Out came the crab again. He looked around to make sure he was safe, then scuttled off her hand. He fell with a plop into the water and walked away over the bottom of the pool.
They searched some more. They saw greenish sea anemones looking like flowers, an orange starfish crossing the bottom all by itself, and darting from cover to cover was a little fish with a tiny tail, thick body, and pointy nose. He had lots of spiky fins.
“What’s that funny fish doing?” asked Johnny Top.
The fish kept darting out from his hiding place and whizzing round and round the starfish. It looked like they were having an argument.
Aunt Sally and the two dads joined them. They laughed at the fish buzzing back and forth over the starfish.
“That’s a grunt sculpin,” said Aunt Sally. “They’re feisty little fish.”
Tom stood up and looked out over the ocean. The sun was already behind a wall of dark clouds on the horizon. Suddenly lightning flashed into the sea.
“Look, there’s lightening,” he said, and everyone gazed seaward.
A moment later a deep rumble rolled across the waters. More lightning flickered and flashed within the clouds and the wind began to gust.
“A storm is brewing,” said Uncle Finn.
“The full moon is rising,” said Aunt Sally, turning and facing the east.
“Spring tide comes high before midnight,” said Farmer John. “It’s going to be a wild night.”
They returned to the beach and the children played in the battleship as the light faded away and the clouds marched closer. Lightning flashed again and again and the deep roar of thunder mixed with the pounding of the surf. The flag on the battleship crackled and flapped as the wind picked up.
“Can we come and play here tomorrow?” asked Tom.
“Sorry,” said Farmer John. “We have to clean the cottage and pack our stuff. We’ll only have time for a quick visit before we go home.”
Tom and June looked at each other. They had wanted to visit the cave one last time. They climbed out of the ship and rushed up the bluff. Veronica and Johnny Top decided to follow.
“Where are you guys going?” called Aunt Sally.
“To the Treasure Cave,” said June Berry.
“What cave?” asked Aunt Sally. “I don’t see one.”
“Up here,” said Tom, getting to the entrance first.
They waited as Aunt Sally climbed the bluff and made her way along the narrow pathway to the entrance. She looked at the small opening and the fresh earth tumbled about.
“This doesn’t look safe,” she said.
“It’s fine,” said Tom. “We’ve been inside before.”
Aunt Sally shook her head. “No, it doesn’t look safe to me. Sorry, you can’t go in.”
Tom and June didn’t argue. Their aunt hardly ever said no, but when she did that was the end of the story.
Chapter 57
Iluna and the King of the Sea
Johnny Top was in bed and everyone else was sitting around the fire. It crackled and flamed as Tom fed it pine cones from the grove behind the cottage. Outside, the wind moaned and thunder rattled the windows.
“Who’s going to stay awake tonight?” asked Gramma with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m sure Tiptoes is going to tell us one of her tales.”
Uncle Finn laughed. “I’ll stay awake for sure,” he said. “I can stay awake all night if I want to.”
Aunt Sally smiled, but said nothing.
“I’ve seen Tiptoes Lightly a few times,” said Farmer John, “so I know she’s real. But I don’t know why I keep dozing off. It must be all the fresh air and exercise.”
Tom put the last of the pine cones on the fire and called Tiptoes:
“Tiptoes Lightly,
Fairy bright,
Tell us a tale
On this stormy night!”
“Please,” said Tiptoes, appearing on the hearth.
“Please,” said Tom, grinning.
“Please! Please! Please!” said June and Veronica and Gramma.
Tiptoes gave a curtsy. “This last tale,” she said, “is about the King of the Sea and Silver Iluna.”
A blast of wind shook the cottage and howled in the eves. The children startled and Lucy jumped up and looked about the room, but the grown-ups didn’t move an inch. All of them, except Gramma, were asleep.
“Looks like those sleepy heads are going to miss another story,” said Gramma.
“And the storm,” said Tom. He loved storms—the wilder the better.
They turned back to Tiptoes. June Berry pulled a cushion from the sofa and placed it on the hearth rug.
“This is for you,” she said to Tiptoes. “You can sit on it to tell your tale.”
So Tiptoes sat on the cushion and began.
“Oshi was already King of the Sea in the days when the Earth Mother gave birth to the moon. Great was her groaning! She tossed from side to side in her labor and the seas went wild. They crashed upon the rocks and ran upon the land. Whole islands sank and others were raised to the sky. Finally the Earth Mother gave birth and the moon rose into the heavens and shone full and round every night. Then the oceans ceased their wild heaving and the days of quiet began.
Oshi watched as Iluna the Bright gazed upon the moon and its full round face. He watched her gather moonbeams from the misty air, from the rivers of ice that lay upon the mountains, and out of the waves of the oceans and seas. Oshi the Sea King watched as Iluna spun her web of finest silver into a long ladder.
‘What are you weaving?’ he asked. ‘It looks so fine.’
Iluna didn’t answer; she was too busy. But Oshi no longer watched her spinning. He saw instead how she moved, he saw her delicate form, her tender touch as she wove the
moonbeams. More and more he had eyes only for her and Oshi the Ever-Restless fell in love with Iluna the Silver One.
Iluna never noticed. She wanted to touch the moon as much as Oshi had wanted to touch the sea. Night by night she gathered the moonbeams, and day by day she wove them until her ladder grew long and tall and wonderfully strong.
Oshi saw what she was doing, that she was weaving a ladder to the moon, and he cried: ‘Oh, Iluna, my Silver One, do not go to the moon.’
Iluna the Weaver did not hear him; she was too busy and had eyes for nothing but her task.
At last, on a night so clear the stars shone like fire, Silver Iluna finished her ladder and climbed to the moon.
‘Iluna, Iluna, my Bright One,’ cried Oshi the Sea King as she left the earth, ‘do not go.’
But the Iluna’s eyes were turned to the moon, and upwards, ever upwards, she climbed until she reached out and touched the Moon Child’s face.
Then the days of the Sun Father’s anger began. He burned and shone so fiercely that Iluna had to lead the moon into the shadow of the Earth Mother. But Asherah wept, for her child was in the shadows and she no longer saw her. Then day by day, and night by night, Iluna led the moon into the sunlight until she shone full and round for one night. After that, she led the Moon Child back into the darkness again.
