Living From Grandmother's Land ( A short story)

The characters of this story are two sisters and a husband and a dog whose name is Raw Milk( Bainne Awh) in Gaelic Mato Ska means White Bear in Lakota. This is a morning on the farm that the family shares. This story has reference to important medical plants and the love for bees that Mato Ska has is quite important to his daily living.

The morning dew touched Thistle's face gently and aroused her from the gentle sleep she had been enjoying in the meadow. It was time to greet the day as it was going to be one in which she would be harvesting her medicines from the land. The sweet scent of raspberries tickled her nose and the familiar scent of osha was pungent. Thistle's awareness turned to Bainne Awh as he seemed to leap from his resting spot. Mato Ska had tried to sneak into the meadow on his way to check on his beehives, although Bainne Awh had picked up his scent, and was joyfully bounding up to him. Bainne Awh's joyful temperament gave Mato Ska a great sense of wonder. Bainne Awh almost toppled Mato Ska over in his exuberance. Mato Ska laughed a deep belly laugh and pat the dog the head.
Thistle was grateful that she smelled coffee in the air a habit that she had picked up when she lived in the city on her journeys. Mato Ska saw her stir from her sweet meadow slumber, his mission to see the beehives was going to be delayed because Thistle had woken up. He approached her quietly and handed her the thermos of coffee. They shared no words with each other none were needed. Thistle knew that he was on a mission to check on his hives and any delay would upset him. She let the scent of him linger in her nose for a moment. He smelled of coffee, and tobacco and a slight earthly scent of sage. She watched his swift and quiet walk as he headed up the hill. She surveyed the meadow and found the herbs that were ready for harvesting in the early morning air. This morning was going to be a good harvest of fresh berries, and Arnica flowers would find there way into her pouches which she grateful for she would be preparing arnica oil that evening. Thistle was ready for a the day to begin. Her thoughts turned to her sister who was most likely still in a deep slumber. Her lifestyle in the city had made her stay awake at night and sleep during the day. Dandelion knew it was berry season which would most likely bring her out of bed.
Dandelion woke up slowly, the cabin was quiet it had been a while since she heard the perking of coffee. The sounds of quiet were so foreign to Dandelion that sleep came in small bursts as she had become used to sleeping in motion. She know that Thistle had gone to the meadow the night before, and that Mato Ska was going to check on his bee hives. A scent that made her nose tingle, and excited with a childlike energy came across the breeze. Dandelion dressed quickly forgetting all about coffee, or any other form of adult indulgences, she grabbed up her grandmother's basket for berry picking. The scent of wild berries might be subtle to most people although to Dandelion they were a pull to nature that made more sense than any of the fast-paced living she had become accustomed to. She clumsily made her way to the meadow forgetting how to walk on bare ground in her childlike enthusiasm to reach the berries. Picking berries was a joy that she remembered from her childhood. It was this sense of wonder that had made her return to her grandmother's land.
Mato Ska was communing with his bees they covered his body and his silent stillness was a sight that Thistle was completely awed by. She had watched him grow from the wild young man whose parties were well known by almost the entire community. She watched him quietly for a moment with the bees and then continued to walk on her journey to find the abundant herbs of the forest.
As she walked she thought of her wild traveling days, and the adventures that had gone along with those days. Her gratitude for the forest increased with each step. A whirlwind of images somehow flooded her mind and the feeling of being a gypsy grasped her for a slip second. She was not sure why the sense of adventure had come to her in the quiet forest. She thought of the most wild adventure she had experienced going through the state of Colorado. Hitchhiking across the mountains and down into the windy and overwhelming town of Laramie, Wyoming. Thistle's ability to find rides was not unlike Sissy Hackshaw's from Tom Robbins Even Cowgirls Get The Blues. Sometimes it meant unusual and unsavory characters, although unlike Sissy she was able to keep them at bay perhaps mostly because of Bainne Awh or because her love for Mato Ska was a love not unlike Penelope's from Homer's Odyssey. As she thought of the rides she had taken to get up to Laramie she giggled at the absurdity of the journey and it many twists and turns. Connecting with the outside world was something Thistle struggled with although it was necessary to her artwork. Thistle loved the quiet of the woods far more than almost anyone she knew. If her day meant seeing wild creatures as she gathered her medicines she would be happy. As she walked she listened quietly to the land, and heard the crunchy footsteps, and heavy breath of a young male bear. They were fairly close to each other although he would pass by her unseen. Overhead the distinct whistle of a red-tailed hawk pierced through her being shifting her attention away from her thoughts and back to the forest. The swift and quiet movement of a deer or elk moved by.
Dandelion found her way into the berries covering herself in scrapes as she filled her basket and stuffed her face with berries she would come home covered in the red juice of the raspberries that she loved. Thistle would be laughing at her as always when it came to her extreme weakness for the fresh berries.