The Angle

Volume 1977 Issue 1 Article 3

1977

Anna Crimson And The Dryad

Joan Henson St. John Fisher College

Follow this and additional works at: https://fisherpub.sjfc.edu/angle

Part of the Creative Writing Commons How has open access to Fisher Digital Publications benefited ou?y

Recommended Citation Henson, Joan (1977) "Anna Crimson And The Dryad," The Angle: Vol. 1977 : Iss. 1 , Article 3. Available at: https://fisherpub.sjfc.edu/angle/vol1977/iss1/3

This document is posted at https://fisherpub.sjfc.edu/angle/vol1977/iss1/3 and is brought to you for free and open access by Fisher Digital Publications at St. John Fisher College. For more information, please contact [email protected]. Anna Crimson And The Dryad

Abstract In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.

"Once upon a time in a deep pine forest dwelled a solitary wisp - a creature no higher than tansy or thistle - who hovered and wandered between the trees as moths do in quiet, unobtrusive flutters. She flew without shadow in a world entirely of shade, and she flew wingless, trailing sheens of gossamer - rising on the slightest breeze as dandelion and milkweed seeds fluff away in the meadows beyond forests."

Cover Page Footnote Appeared in the issue: 1977.

This prose is available in The Angle: https://fisherpub.sjfc.edu/angle/vol1977/iss1/3 Henson: Anna Crimson And The Dryad 5

Anna Crimson And The Dryad By Joan Henson

Once upon a time in a deep pine for­ gled, bent grasses and empty pods - But when it rained, she walked, so est dwelled a solitary wisp - a creature into a hoary tableau of dying. Fragile she could feel the pleasurable density no higher than tansy or thistle - who cups of Queen Ann's lace and fuzzy of water-soaked moss and needles with hovered and wandered between the burdock stiffened and glazed alike in her toes. She walked as if she and the trees as moths do in quiet, unobtru­ the cold mornings. But in the forest, moss and the pine needles and the rain sive flutters. She flew without shadow Anna Crimson prepared for hiberna­ were an entity penetrating the forest, in a world entirely of shade, and she tion. She escaped wind and snow by nourishing and cushioning it She be­ flew wingless, trailing sheens of gossa­ burrowing underground into a rabbit came different in the rain, with an over­ mer - rising on the slightest breeze as hole until spring. whelming need to touch and meld with dandelion and milkweed seeds fluff While the pine tops howled and ice­ things. away in the meadows beyond forests. heavy snow cracked branches, she She found me in the spring. I re­ Her hair was richest, russet auburn, curled against the roots in her dark and member her far off, weaving between the essence of loam, threaded with narrow tunnel. She slept and dreamed the trees as if she were the rand om rain. gold and fli ckering fire. Its latent glory and made long journeys into hcrsclf ­ I remember that as she came closer, crowned her head with an aura more a labyrinth of pastel lights and vague the raindrops sl ipped down her auburn like leaves than pine needles. And so faces. It inevitably happened that just hair, deepening its color. Still closer. I it was the younger pines along the for­ when she could perceive a radiance ached for a form like hers, unlike hers, est edge witnessed all the maples flam­ caught somewhere in the periphery of complementary to hers. What I had ing in autumn who named her Anna her vision and trying to break out like been before. Closer. She stopped di­ Crimson. sun from a cloud, she woke up. The dirt rectly beneath me and looked up into Every year, when the fields grew sides of her tunnel would be soft and my high branches. I thought, am I green­ brown and tall with seed and the ma­ almost black with moisture, and she er, broader, more symmetrical than the ples flamed, the younger pines would would emerge with relief from the others? Or can you sense me, Anna call her while she flitted and played earth, like a luminous mushroom, free Crimson? above their rooted feet. They chanted from the frightening light of her sleep. She peeled away a piece of bark and "Anna Crimson, Anna Crimson, why do New-tipped trees opened their turned it in her hands. Bark is beautiful you burn?" But Anna Crimson would cones and seeds drifted, spinning to the when wet. Gray-brown becomes rich not answer. Sometimes she only smiled, ground. Everywhere the forest floor brown within browns striated with myr­ coiling long strands of her hair around brought forth violets and trillium and iad colors, and what was dry and rough her wrist. Sometimes she vanished into lady slippers, lulling her with a delicate, becomes texture comfortable and th ickets of fern. tranquil awakening. In the meadow, wonderful to fingertips. How like me Soon the first frost hushed the trees mice scurried, hosts of worms plough­ you are, Anna Crimson! How awed I and transformed the fi elds - all the tan- ed the soil. Tiny green shoots struggled was at trees! Joan 1-/enson, a Na za reth studenl, is married, for light while Anna Crimson lay beside She leaned against me, tearing the the mother of f ow~ and plans a ca reer as a her favorite bed of ferns, contemplating filmy stuff of her gown. novelist and pocl. the tight fronds unwinding. I spo ke.

Published by Fisher Digital Publications, 1977 1 6 The Angle, Vol. 1977, Iss. 1 [1977], Art. 3 "Anna Crimson." and falling until one unusually fine au­ late into the moonlight because she From the very first, she knew where tumn day. The air above was cool and had returned. I was. No startled pushing away at the sharp, cleansed of heat and the frag­ Timothy had indeed waited. A wed­ sound of my voice. No nervous search­ rance of late summer flowers. it smelled ding was planned as though she had ing behind my trunk to find me. She of apples. never been away. But Anna Crimson knew. Had her mother or father told Anna Crimson came through the was not the same. Much as she loved her stories about dryads when she was trees to me, holding her hands over her her people - the vague faces once small? ears and trembling. The pine trees were again in focus - and sunsets, and wan­ I was surprised when she slid down calling - "Anna Crimson, Anna Crim­ dering with Timothy by brooks and to my roots, murmuring, "I had no idea son, why do you burn?" Their ru stling over hills, the open sky always aroused I was so lonely." sifted down past the lower bare longing for someone who really knew "Comes of hiding, Anna Crimson." branches and she seemed annoyed to her, someone who in a moment gues­ "I have been by here many times, hear something she had not allowed sed her mood, someone able to en­ and you never spoke to me. Why to­ before. . Her fingers burrowed into the gage her without body or words, who day?" pine needles as if some secret lay hid­ followed and shared the eerie terrain "Because today I have been touch­ den in their depth, a collective seren­ of her mind and the infinite roamings ed free. You stripped me of skin and ity born of deep-green dropping for of her soul. That someone was not Tim­ brushed my pitch. See, your hand is years past counting and changing to othy. That someone did not exist in the sticky with me. You have released me. pale sienna. Did she notice how much fields. Many times, especially when she We all need to be touched free, Anna the smooth need les res embled faded was surro unded by relatives and Crimson, even you." And so it started, hair? friends, she remembered the first words in the rain, her wet body next to mine. Suddenly, I was intensely weary. The she had said to thedryad: "I had no idea In the summer she brought me an weight of what she was feeling con­ I was so lonely." acorn some squ irrel left behind, and we stri cted me. I could not breathe. I But the pine forest was dark, a for­ talked about oak trees. wanted to run between bushes and fly ever night, and she had eyes to see the "Do you remember the shape of oak above clover into blue sky. To take day. trees, Anna Crimson?" Anna Crimson in my arms. She married Timothy. "Do you?" She spoke without looking at me. A baby girl was born in the spring, "I asked first" "Dryad, it is time. I woke up this and Timothy believed that Anna Crim­ "Well, the leaves look like puddles, morning and saw the sun. I remember son had totally returned. He did not o r two spirits leaving each other. Timothy, and his voice is call ing, too. hea r his wife cry when she saw her child, "Or two coming back." He is waiting out there. "I am my mother now." She pressed her shoulders to my Our time - over. She had been Flowers and bees took over the broken, shaggy skin and smiled. "Or two touched free. fields. Anna Crimson and Timothy and coming back Oak trees - huge, oval "Yes, it is Lime." their baby revelled in blue and green and dense - are magnificent We had She looked up, then, bit her knuckle summer days, moving among profu­ picnics under an oak tree when I was a and groaned. sions of fragrance and rainbow blend­ child. My mother loved trees." "I will come back to see you. ings of blooms. Anna Crimson was "Yes, she did." "No." golden. She could feel her whole body She cocked her head. "What do you "No?" embracing field and sun and the teem­ know of my mother?" "No." ing earth, and now she and Timothy "She often came into the forest" "But you will miss me!" and their baby were entity fulfilling and "Did you ever speak to her?" I would not answer. nurturing each other. She felt her body "No, she never touched me. And she ''Say something. Me, Anna Crimson, whole, yet yearned to sec the dryad. never stayed long. She was always wor­ I am leaving!" She fought an ache to drop white days ri ed about you. I could hear her fretting "Goodbye." at his roots and baskets of flowers and as she went by, 'My daughter, my Her face blanched with rage. berries. Anna Crims on was golden and daughter,' and soon she was gone "You dumb, dead - TREE!" overflowing. again." I stood perfectly still, willing my "Go away," she begged his presence branches steady and my roots hard, in her mind. "Go away." She swallowed Anna Crimson picked up a bundle thinking no arms any more, no legs. I hard and picked up her child. of needles and snapped them into bits. am a tree and dead. But Anna Crimson could not forget "She was foolish to leave." She turned her head and shot off, him, imprisoned in evergreen. When it And I watched a new layer like cam­ ripples of her hair glinting like dark wa­ rained, she plucked daisy petals, think­ bium build and cover her thinly and ter, diminishing to starpoint and finally ing of bark, and then, autumn, when all surely and safely from memory and me. disappearing altogether. the leaves turned, was her undoing. The In an instant she gathered herself and Anna Crimson went home to her maples, more than flaming, raged. fled. own. Milkweed pods filled with ho ney Ghosts of pine trees taunted her: ''Anna The days piled for us in numberless were brought lo her, circles of children Crimson, Anna Crimson, why do you clusters like sheathed cones growing sang and there was jubilant dancing burn?" She stared into the high, blazing https://fisherpub.sjfc.edu/angle/vol1977/iss1/3 2 Henson: Anna Crimson And The Dryad 7 faces and knew why. For the so und of "It is past dawn. I must go." top needles whistled like keening in the his voice in its seasons. The leap of her "I know." wind. being into his. Desire flared to obses­ Her fist clenched bloodless around She screamed high and long, and sion. She went back. the scrap of bark. suddenly the light left her eyes. The "Say my name before I go." trunk shuddered with receiving, enfold­ "Anna Crimson. Goodbye." ing, becoming Anna Crimson. The crea­ She ripped her gown hugging my I heard her withdrawing, but crystal ture below them dissolved like a dream, bark, heedless, laughing and crying all visions of her lingered, clarified and bril­ and left only her auburn hair, softly at once, stretching and leaning back liant in the dark. shining. again, feckless with joy. Anna Crimson was gone. In the fi eld, ''Did you miss me, dryad?'' her baby woke up restless with hunger, I remained silent Anna Crimson flew into new day­ and Timothy called and called. "Never mind. I missed you. Always. light. The sky was aster blue and blind­ You never leave me. Do you know that? ing. She sq uinted and rubbed her eyes. "I see you lost in yours elf within my Let me tel l you where we have been, The field looked lush, tawny with deep pine forest. Li sten to the younger you and I. I have a baby. Oh, it is good weeds, and the trees were glorious in pines telling you that the maples are to sit on smooth ground and not have the sun. Wind caught at her hair and fl aming now. Instinctively, they sway to travel through wild raspberry and whipped it across her eyes, and the sun and chant a ritual of words, passed at poison ivy. I must watch the baby con­ set it afire. She sank to her knees and once by uppermost branches till the stantly. She is crawling now. If I were cried. She cri ed for a long time. When older pines nod with knowing, feel ing a smart, I would scoop her up and bring she rose, her eyes glittered with pur­ green deep stirring in their roots. Now her here." pose, and she began searching the field on the ground the heaped pine needles I chuckled. "You sound like your for a sharp stone. Finding what she darken for moments and glow fire. And mother." wanted, she crouched on a rock, hold­ the high, high rustling is in your ears. Her eyes burned, but she was very ing handsful of hair away from her, and "You must run and run out of the quiet. I realized how long it had been cut until her head was shards of color, darkness, through the younger pines since she left and how foolish it is to and the ground shimmered with dusky into the fields and sun. try to escape pain. Her eyes closed, and flame. She gathered her hair in her arms "Run. I knew she was not asleep, but incho­ and reentered the woods. "Before you break my bark. ate. We were together. The stars moved. She stood before the dryad, word­ "Before I speak. Final ly, she nodded. A moment later, less, tears streaming, and dropped her "Before you fall to the ground for­ she was stand ing and carefully peeling hair. Resin escaped from the tree. A ever, you, beautiful hair, and we are a fl ake of bark. dead branch let go beside her, and the one."

Published by Fisher Digital Publications, 1977 3