Simon had grown over the winter. Spring revealed someone caught somewhere between a boy and a man, trying to grow into longer limbs and a voice not his own. He and Nuala had met throughout the long winter, walking in the snow to a sheltered grotto. He had built a fire pit and they would huddle next to the fire and tell their secrets. One night Nuala stood next to the fire and threw some herbs and stones into the fire and brightly colored sparks soared into the air. She closed her eyes and began to sing a song in words he had never heard. She spoke of the moon and sadness to come and then sat and wept. He didn’t know what to do so he just sat with her until she grew quiet again.
The cold and sadness seemed far away now. He walked a little faster and his heart was beating a little harder as it always did when he was going to see her.
He had never thought of himself as anything special, but through her eyes, he was a magical slayer of dragons, a mage with the wisdom of the ages, a healer, a king. He would never understand how he had been so lucky to find her, but she made him want to be more.
Hands went around his face and covered his eyes as he walked along the bank of the stream. “Who could this be? he asked laughing. He whipped around and her hands came loose, and as he spun, he was face to face with her, just inches between them. She had Tiger lilies woven into her hair, as though a crown and the sun made her brown eyes sparkle.
She took his hand and they continued walking along the bank. Shafts of sunlight wandered down through the trees and the birds were singing. She turned, pulling him with her into the trees and he followed as she led.
The forest became thicker and they had to step over fallen trees and push aside underbrush. He asked no questions, just held on to her hand and went where she went. They came into a clearing he had never seen before. Purple wisteria climbed high into the trees and turned the clearing into a chapel. Every trunk, limb, rock was draped in purple, perfuming the air. Simon craned his neck around, taking it all in. It was a magical place, a gift Nuala shared with him. She held both his hands and they spun around and around as the birds provided music for their dance. They nearly collapsed laughing and dizzy.
He reached out to remove a sprig of grass from her cheek and she froze in place. He leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers. The forest went completely silent. For a moment there was nothing in the world but them. She stood very still and when he drew back, neither said a word. There was no need. There would be more winters and sadness would come as it comes to all of us. For now, there was spring and flowers and a first kiss, and love warm moving across their lives as sure as the spring moved on to summer.
The purple did the trick…set the scene so perfect. Loved the way you narrated.For sure there is spring and flowers to relish and relax.Nice take.
This piece was so poetic. The sylvan scene, the emotion were beautifully expressed.
You weaved a rich tapestry building up to the kiss. Nicely done.
Just simply wonderful – I could smell the wisteria and felt the anticipation – well done!
Ah lovely. I’m really enjoying all these first kiss stories… So much promise of things to come!
There would be more winters and sadness would come as it comes to all of us.
This whole piece was lovely, Dee. Gotta love the wisteria chapel.
The wisteria chapel is a real place. Up the road from my on-laws home on the road named for Dorcheat Bayou, there is what must be an old home place. The “home” is gone but the wisteria that may have been carefully pruned at one time, had it’s way with the trees and bushes and anything else that stood still long enough to be frosted with a lavender covering. I never actually walked through it because I suspect there was poison ivy under the pretty and it looked a bit snaky as well but it was more beautiful to me than most planned gardens. Mother nature is queen.
Just beautiful!
Oh, Dee, the scent of wisteria hung heavy over this one, and for a moment I thought the butterflies in the header were the tiger lilies in Nuala’s hair. I think we need the beauty of warm spring days such as this one to carry us through the sadness and cold of winter. Just wonderful.
What a beautiful piece of writing. I loved it.
Gorgeous!
The scenery may be purple, but the prose isn’t, and for that I’m thankful! A lovely passage, evoking all the simple and complex feelings of being in love. You touch very cleverly on the sadness of love, too, without weighing down the feeling of the story. Kudos!
Oh but you do well with magicalness, my dear. You never let us, your precious readers, drop for even a nanosecond. Don’t talk to me of real places! Let us whirl with your tale, with Nuala spinning us into her Tiger lilies and purple wisteria and let us dance to the birds’ music. We don’t need but a hint of beckoning because it is all so glorious a place to be and to be kissed so, with such a gentle moving of sprig and touching of lips… Lord have mercy : )
He reached out to remove a sprig of grass from her cheek and she froze in place. and that was the kodak moment 😀
Fragrant and sweet… just like that first kiss. Completely lovely.
thank you everyone. I enjoyed writing this and remembering the “wisteria chapel”. I read this again tonight and see some things that need to be pruned. I get too wordy.
My house in Austin had a wonderful wisteria bower, and huge curtains of coral vine in the back: for easily ten months out of the year, I never even needed bedroom curtains. Passionflowers all over the back yard. Lush life. I’ve just bought a new home, my first with Tina and Walden: time for more bowers…