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The
long day was filled with trips back and forth from the Inn to the
new woodshed... "Tull's Wood Shed" a grin lighting my
eyes as the words sink in... ‘A Shed of my own’... ‘My
very own shed’.
Arms laden with axe heads, tools, buckets, barrels, chain, and leather ends of broken straps, all go into the shed, all the brick-a-rack collected over the years in the Inn, all safely stowed among the treasures and trophies of my own wanderings through the world. Pieces gathered and safely stowed with a sage nodding of She -Urt logic along the lines of ' never know when something might be useful'…
Smiling mischievously as I steal Tikvah's evil 'She Urt shooing brush', and with arcing sweeps begin brushing down all the cob-webs and dust, old bark, sawdust, chipping's from the walls and roof, the debris of winters and autumns of neglect a swift flick with the brooms gnarled handle and the floor is littered with spiders scurrying to escape and head off for some quiet corner to rebuild their homes. Leaves and motes of dust gather before the broom till my industrious little body swishes and turns, brushing the whole lot out the door ….. Dressed in my breeches and jerkin and totally covered in errant dirt, a sheen of perspiration glazing my skin, makes sure the dust and bits stick well, but here I am, standing with my brush in hand ,smiling , breathing in, filling my lungs with the air that is MINE, all MINE, this is my home, my space, and a door and a lock that makes it as safe as any She Urt can be in this world…My lips curl at the sides, and the smile spreads to form a huge grin……. MY HOME………
Secretively shooing away helpers, while the very important ceremony ensues, of dedicating my shed to all that I hold dear, and last but not least the extremely crucial element where I hide my money and more importantly the heart shaped stone that I have made my home stone, with solemn reverence that barely conceals a glint of wild delight, I make the sacrificial offering of crumbs of bread and honey and milk so that my belly never has to growl like it has in the past…a nod to the Guardians of She-Urtkind and twinkle of bright eyes as work begins again……
In the fresh silver light of the day, my heart beats proudly as I enjoy the pleasurable task of watching the TMI 'slavelets' work hard. bash organizing the girls with the natural maternal flair of a first girl, and carrying in the treats that she finds and keeps for me, her voice encouraging and cajoling in the kind way she has of making sure everyone is looked after …it is she who brings in that precious commodity, the capture fluid!, and a big sack. fiona working with bliss beautifully, carrying the heavy table, her confidence growing with each step she takes, a stack of furs and baskets teetering on the table top as they negotiate the ‘ chuckling free’ who stand idly by amused by their efforts and delightfully interesting approach to removals. Perched highest of all the briar rose cage teetering on top, fragile as ever, stored safely for now. In my keeping while it’s needed. tara working her body to its ' full effect' enticing passing stray 'male help', as she carries the baskets and 'warrior packs I have purloined along the way', into my home. lysi dedicated as ever in everything she does, carries in the gifts from Tikvah, of furs, pillows and wall coverings from her last home, she makes me smile with her loving nature. trinity fetching me her ‘trays’ that have me laughing, despite knowing she has her dastardly plans to try and teach urtlings in the near future!! And through it all lina has that grin as she rolls ‘a certain item’ back and forth, tormenting me as only she can laughing and full of love for this ' motley crew'.
With care the table is set on the left hand side against the slatted wall of the shed, here I will lay out the tools of my craft. Taking out the sharpening stone and chisel and placing them pride of place on what will be my work space, emptying my pockets and setting out the small bird, and the small white feather that is rather more battered now, at its side, all gifts from Troi, along with this shed. My face beaming with delight as I admire the neatness and turning to an impish grin as I wonder just how long I can maintain the pristine order. Across the table I display more treasures, bits of wood that I have whittled, and a small cube of softwood that I am working on at the moment…the rough outline of a panther already showing. Three broken dagger tips, a small saw blade again snapped of and left for rubbish, and a rasp all make up MY work zone…….smiling looking at it with pride and with such a simple enjoyment, a happy sigh…..
The final touches… The baskets tied with leather binds to the rafters, setting my pouches of polished stones, treasures, bits, in a neat order, arranging the furs on the left behind the table … the utensils, pots, and bowls, all stacked in the hanging baskets. The many wonderful gifts given by dear friends stored in the travel packs hanging from hooks from the rafters, too many to mention, but each remembered with love. Finally the placing of the daggers, one by my furs, one behind the door frame, one strapped to the right of the table, and the rest as always at my side. This is my home, I don't
ask for much from it, but warmth when cold, food when hungry,
and the freedom to enjoy my simple life to the fullest….
and I will defend it as I do my freedom with every breath of my
body…… Turning and with my back against the wooden
slats, looking at a place that is perfection for a She Urt |