Elf Salon ~ featured elf

The Elf Salon spotlights different elves from the Gallery and tells the stories of my encounters with them. It will be updated periodically, so please check back the next time you're in the neighborhood. The Salon is now featuring:

Purple Marsh Flower Elf

Purple Marsh Flower Elf

"Preserving her Place"

As I concentrate on her face, her energy, the way is blocked at first. It seems to be taken up by a large man with a big nose, wearing a 3-piece suit, his big belly pushing out the vest in front. I donít know him and donít really feel I want to. I hold the image of the elf-girl in my mind and try to move past him.

Itís not an easy task. Heís right there with me, clamoring for attention. Thereís apparently something he wants to talk to me about.

I show him the image of the purple marsh-flower elf and tell him thatís who I want to talk to, who I am trying to find. Does he know her? Suddenly uncomfortable, he draws back with a bit of bluster. He does know her, I sense, but he doesnít want to admit it.

Intent on my quest, I tell him politely that I donít have time to chat with him now, but if itís important I will make time later, after I find the elf-girl. He is not happy but grudgingly pulls back, out of my way, allowing me to continue my journey. "Iím The Burgomeister" I hear as I pass.

I first experience her as a buzzing, an angry vibration I feel in my left shoulder and then down my arm. I shake out my hand and arm and a sticky-fingered, thorny marsh plant tries to snag me, to keep me from entering the marsh. Itís definitely not welcoming. I shake it off and stubbornly push past.

And there she is before me, spread feet planted firmly, challenging, barring the way. She is stormy-faced and sullen, ready to face me down and shout me away out of her marsh, her place, her home. That man in the 3-piece suit is one she has shouted at and chased away, I know with startling certainty.

She catches the image and twists her face in anger. "He wants to develop here" she hisses, spitting the d-word, making it ugly, an obscenity. "Drain my marsh! Not likely!" She folds skinny arms across her chest and glares, daring me to speak.

I raise my hands to placate. No threat here, nothing to fear from me. "I donít even know him." I tell her, "Not really. I just met him on the way. I only want to know a bit more about you. I painted your face without knowing where it came from. Now Iíd like to know whatever you are willing to tell me."

She relaxes a little, just starting to see me. She is used to greeting only enemies and threats on the road I have taken here. "You people" she says to me "have no respect for other forms of life or any way other than your own. You tear down and trample upon without a thought" she rages. "It is why we have to hide and guard the spirited places, all the places that are still alive ~ to keep you from destroying them all."

"Not me!" I deny. I explain that I have no such desire and have only come to her because she came to me somehow. I show her the picture I have made of her.

Her eyes pierce me like arrows, then she softens, like butter melting at the edges. "Youíre not like him, are you? Like that Burgomeister" she spits the word. "Youíre actually trying to help." She gazes into me, analyzing me all the way down to my socks. Finally she nods ~ to herself, I think, in understanding. "Yes," she says, "You can help. You do. You hold my image to help me hold my place, my strength in your world. It is a preserving magic."

What she says is news to me, strange and mysterious, yet I am relieved to have apparently won her approval somehow. Smiling, open and welcoming now, she starts to show me her home. She casts a glamour of gloom to keep trespassers and tramplers-upon away. I think of the sticky-fingered plant that grabbed me and she laughs. "Just like that." she agrees.

There is such unexpected beauty here. It rises to my ears as though someone has just added a soundtrack and turned up the volume. A chorus of birdsong swells like a symphonic crescendo, almost deafening me for a moment. There are birds everywhere. Dragonflies float lazily, gleaming iridescent in the sun as the water flows slowly, lyrically, between graceful grasses. There are teeny, tiny flowers hidden in their depths, dots of orange, red and cream ~ you have to know to look for them.

"Hold my power in your world," she commands seriously, mysteriously, "so that I can continue to preserve this place. But be very careful not to lead others here to my marsh, especially those who might endanger it. " I see a quick image of the Burgomeister in her flashing eyes.

This, I assure her, is very easy to promise as I have absolutely no idea where her marsh is in my world. I couldnít lead others to her even if I wanted to. She smiles her relief and we both agree it is best that way.