I must have walked the path before. Early on, when we first moved here, but I don’t remember for sure.
And even if I had walked it years ago, I would have seen it differently. Now it feels like a discovery, something very old, yet brand new to me.
I walked under the leaning Yoni Tree as if were the gatekeeper as well as the gate itself. Maybe it’s presence made me hyper-aware, but everywhere I looked, after passing under it, there were Yoni Trees. And, like our vulva’s, they were all different.
From thin, slight, imprints in a tree trunk, to inviting cave-like openings.
Fate and I walked longer than I intended, me gawking at the Yoni Trees, her waiting patiently for me as I stared in wonder then thought to take a picture.
I was inspired and wanted to remember the trees, to have their images for reference. I was thinking of drawing them with my sewing machine when I got back to my studio. But I also wanted to feel them, to begin to get to know all the personalities.
Fate and I turned back before finding out where the path led. We were gone long enough, I had more work to do, and I liked the idea, at least for a while, of not knowing how long the path went on for or where it ended.