sacred ground

I told my grandsons that this was a fairy castle, and we built the wall of stones, one by one, to keep the monsters out. Every time they came near this circle of trees the story of the fairy castle became just a little bigger... the large lizard climbing the tree was the dragon of the castle, the cricket who lived in the bowl of the tree was the guard, the sentry, at the door to the castle... the fairy queen was the butterfly that dove and pirouetted through the circle of trees.

But as I built the story it seemed more and more real to me. It was an enchanted place. A ring of sycamores with a juniper tree in the center. It became a perfect place for little boys to play in the late afternoon and it was a good place for me to sit and be still and silent when the opportunity arose.

Sacred ground. I tend to forget to really see it in the hubbub of daily life. It takes me getting out of town, out of my everyday environment to see how beautiful and really holy place can be. In the winter, I look out my kitchen window and sometimes I am struck with the beauty of it all... but as the summer wears on in Phoenix, I live in a house with the curtains drawn against the heat, so I stop looking outward.

We had to leave the fairy castle today and come back to this sun baked city... but as I write, tonight, a rain has begun to fall. A small respite in the relentless heat of summer. This day I am thankful that I was able to go camp with my daughter and her family, to enjoy the land and the night sky, the cool spring fed creeks and the enchantment of a ring of trees that you can find in the high country.