With the mantra...Anything is possible in Blogland Lane...flowing through my brain, I follow Wolf toward the House.
I feel discombobulated. Where am I...will I ever see my new neighbours,great people I've only just met, again? Will I soon be able to visit those lovely shops which have just opened? Or visit the castle?
Deep in thought, I find suddenly that the lush Rhododendrons and Azaleas, the tall Cedars...the absolute overabundance of flora...are becoming sinister, ominous. My mind is flooded with questions...who planted them? And who is responsible for their upkeep? Who lives here?
I hesitate. There is only one way to find out who the occupant might be, even if Fear is riding my coattails. I must knock on that imposing, almost hidden old door, which looms ever larger before me, in order to find answers.
Wolf has disappeared. I appear to be alone, although I know if I were to call either Wolf or Owl or even Spider, they would come to my aid. But I have been chastised more than once for calling on them too quickly. I have been told there are some things I can figure out for myself.
I walk on, finally arriving at the foot of the old marble staircase. I look up. The staircase has overgrown Shrubbery and Vines crowding it...when I first set eyes on this strange House, I did not notice how completely thicketed the entry was.
The Vines and Shrubs now appear completely dense. Have they grown since I arrived? Is this strange phenomenon meant to keep me out?
I push my way through the brambly brush. Whoever is looking after this Home must have difficulty keeping the Shrubbery pruned, since the Plants appear to grow so quickly.
Fear is also growing quickly, weighing me down. And when Fear stymies me, Anger appears. Anger within me can overtake everything, if it is stimulated enough. Fear and Anger are not good companions, when all is said and done.
Yet Anger fuels me, deposes Fear. I have the desire to face whatever...or whoever...is behind that Door. I want to understand why I am feeling more and more apprehensive by the energy emanating from the House.
The Vines clutch at my arms, the fiery Pyracantha pushes his thorny branches into my face, the Cedar limbs appear to be attempting to block my progress up the stairs.
I am wearing my old Tweed jacket...the weather has been cool lately, as we begin the journey into Autumn. It was left to me by Great-Aunt Ida, who would be horrified at the way these Plants are tearing at it. But it is fine Scottish Tweed...it has withstood far worse assaults than this, and the material stands strong against the ever entwining Vines and Branches. I am grateful for it, becoming even angrier at the lack of respect from the Plant World.
As I edge my way through what appears to be an impenetrable jungle, Wolf appears.
It is quite a remarkable thing when Wolf materializes. It happens in an instant, yet there is a definite process to it. His eyes appear first and sometimes, these are the only physical indication he is around me. His eyes are either bright blue or yellow, depending, I think, on his own personal whim, and completely unmistakable. And then, his nose and ears and the rest of his face, his neck and shoulders, his back and hindquarters come into sight. The last thing to appear is the sparkling white tip of his tail.
I stop fighting the Branches and Vines and they stop trying to entangle me. I look at Wolf, sitting at the top of the stairs, looking for all the World as if he's just dropped in for a cup of Tea.
Where were you?...I hiss at him.
Unperturbedly, he barely glances my way. He sniffs the Wind, then yawns before he answers...You are wearing your Aunt's Tweed jacket. The Plants could not possibly hurt you, even in their overly exuberant welcome.
Back in a moment...