Choosing one

Stout Grove GI’m part elf and he’s part leprechaun. I like to think that magic combination was fate-arranged.

My kin are strong tree-loving folk. He’s more of water and dew. But fortunately there are places where rivers and woods wend together: where mist and fog draw streams down tree trunks and into the rocky substrate.  Trees of frugal thirst grow tall drinking the brew but lend more of it to the fish and fowl of the wood. Soon a stream is born from the interstitial seepings amid the wide root knees.

The magic of ocean breath, needle-dense crowns, and porous parent material creates runoff: it allows the trees’ leftovers to form a matrix suitable to quench the needs of the aquatic world including that of Neptune’s realm.

Stout Grove E

Just as the river gathers girth as it heads to the sea, we too (two?) – leprechaun and elf – have a momentum to our path together. Our journey’s way, like that sea-bound Sequoia tear, heads not directly to its destination. Just a few more than many a twist and turn and rocky outcrop have been presented for us to bypass. Yet, we too carry on.

Yet, unlike that stream, which knows where it flows (to the sea, only to the sea) we know not the ultimate destination until we do indeed arrive. It’s the great surprise, the great unfolding of the path that makes me grateful for the “us”. Though as a half-elf I’m one that often finds change and challenge enjoyable, still, they be not easy undertakings, so best done with a man of luck and a strong hand holding you firmly.

And that my friends is the magic of choosing to travel life with one half-leprechaun man. With that luck and firm grasp, and just a bit of my half-elf heritage, I always land with my feet well-planted. Like a cat…ah, but the story of my cat-half is for another day.