Ariel's Grove by J. Z. Colby - HTML preview

Epilogue

That summer, Michael became a journeyman baker, and Issa and I were married. It was a happy time — all the remaining Sprites where there, our families, most of the Search and Rescue team, and one school teacher. We didn’t know it until a few weeks later, but that school teacher was to became the next Wood Sprite, and she found us a new Sprite almost every year. She was the only person, in the so-called real world, who ever knew I was anything but a jock or a druggie. That’s one way I knew I had become a true Teacher.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

After we were married, Issa and I rented a little apartment, but I was still going to have a garden at my mom and dad’s house. We set up the altar in our apartment for a temporary Wood Sprite meeting place.

During that fall and winter, Issa and I opened our own bakery. It took a lot of work, but we had help from lots of wonderful people. Our first regular contract was to supply pies, cakes, and rolls to the restaurant where Dulcy worked.

Penny got a part-time job with the Parks Department as a swimming instructor. All her students became well-informed about the dangers of getting too cocky in the water.

As a new summer began, ten years after our original Teacher taught me and Penny to be strong and to fly, Michael and Issa came back from a hike one day chatting and grinning. They had found a new Grove — a little farther away, completely secret, and on 160 acres of densely forested private land we

Ariel’s Grove 304

could lease. We got it ready during the month of July, although I was moving a little slower than usual.

On Lammas, we gathered in our new Grove. Penny brought her Tarot cards and the basket of vegetables. Michael had his recorder and a box of delicious pastries. Linda, with wide eyes and a very child-like grin, carried the basket of flowers. Issa brought the new bread and wine, and my big shoulder bag of supplies. That celebration of the first fruits of the harvest held special meaning for me, for in my arms I carried my firstborn child. With a special oil, Dulcy anointed my baby. At the end of the ceremony, Rachel received her medallion — Geburah, the Hebrew word for Power.



About the Author

Born in the Mojave Desert, J. Z. Colby now lives and writes deep in a forest of the Pacific Northwest.

He has studied many subjects, formally and informally, including psychology, philosophy, education, and performing arts, but remains a generalist. His primary profession as a mental health therapist, specializing with families and young adults, gives him many stories of personal growth.

All his life, he has been drawn toward a broad understanding of human nature, especially those physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual situations in which our capacity to function seems to reach its limits. He finds fascinating those few individuals who can transcend the limits of our common human nature and the dictates of our cultures.