The Green Lady
Spring had come to the forest, placing its gentle, loving hand over branch, bough and leaf, a touch so stirring that it could wake any living thing from even the deepest of winter slumbers.
As the wood burst into life, guided and encouraged by the strengthening sun, the Green Lady also opened her eyes, eyes that captured the essence of the season. The bright green of new shoots. The bold yellow of daffodils. The soft pink and purple of sweet violets. Those spring eyes were to be found on a face of silver birch-bark, framed by a living mass of evergreen ivy tresses.
The year gained momentum and during the early days of spring she spent her time singing soft songs to the trees and forest flowers. But it wasn’t until summer dawned, when the air grew warmer and the days lengthened, that the Green Lady took to wandering the Wildwood.
She was in search of her other half; the vibrant, verdant being who had loved her since the beginning of time. They had parted company at the end of autumn, for they had responsibilities beyond themselves and each other to attend to before winter arrived in the wood. And though the winter was spent alone, it was filled with dreams and memories of an eons worth of summer’s love to keep the frozen breath of the dark months at bay.
With the sun shining brightly overhead and patches of clear blue sky to be glimpsed between the branches above, it was time for the Green Lady to leave her solitary abode and venture further into the forest. It was time to find her Green Man.
For many days she walked the secret paths of the Wildwood. She made her way beneath oak and ash boughs, beech and wych elm. She danced around willow trees and skipped over woodland streams. And everywhere she went she carried a song on her lips and a tune in her heart, her voice always accompanied by the sounds of the woodland, be it the whistling of the wind, the chatter of birds or the rustling of leaves.
It was whilst she was drinking fresh water from a spring which cascaded over an ancient rock face that she heard a familiar song on the air. She followed where it led, answering the distant verses with her own.
Day turned into night, and beneath a starry sky the song continued on through to the dawn. At first light, she was walking the hidden pathways of the forest, the sound of his voice the only directions she needed.
The morning waxed and waned and the song got louder. Midday came and went, and the afternoon grew older. With every step she took, the forest seemed more and more alive, and full of music and wonder. And still the song got louder.
He was so close now that the Green Lady could feel his presence all around her. Parting the leaves and branches of a low-growing tree on the edge of a clearing, she glimpsed the cracked and creviced bark-skin that she knew so well. And those eyes! Eyes the colour of honey and tree sap and the dark gold of ripened acorns.
She stepped through the foliage and entered the clearing, their songs joining into one. In the centre of the glade, in the light of the sun, their hands entwined. No words were needed. The song was enough. After all, the summer was their season.
Sammi Cox lives in the UK and spends her time writing and making things. She can be found scribbling short stories and poetry, often inspired by mythology and folklore, at: https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/
