Arboreal Podiamancy

So I was dwarf wrangling (also known as Father-Son Quality Time) at the park last night.

I do this fairly regularly, usually in an effort to give the Queen Spider a break, and thereby reduce the chance of her murdering and subsequently devouring her mate.

I enjoy these little forays with my spawn, as we get to do things we might not normally do when Mama is near. Some favorites include Pine Cone Hunting(tm), Wiping the nose with our sleeve, trying to catch and eat errant birds (but which is usually limited to roaring "EAT!" at them as we run ineffectually across the grass), and repeatedly pacing the toddler-defined path which from the air must form a tesseract. Or some kind of Ancient Mesoamerican Astronaut Landing Strip.

As we were tracing one of these paths, we regularly stopped at a particular bush nestled in the crook where two sidewalks meet. This bush was very important to my son, who wanted me to acknowledge its existence every time we reached it. After about the third round of this, I actually poked my head into the bush to see if perhaps the kid was pointing at anything besides leaves and branches. Sure enough, wedged between two branches at the center of the shrub was a single shoe, toddler sized. One size smaller than my son's, I think.

I looked around to see if, possibly, there was a tiny person about with a single shoe on. No luck. We were alone except for a middle-aged asian man doing pull-ups on the monkey bars, and he had both his shoes. I rummaged about in the bush looking for a second shoe, because, hey, free shoes. I didn't find the match to the child's shoe, but I did find a crusty adult hiking sock. And a single black-booted action figure foot.

Clearly, this was a tribute bush. People were coming to the bush either to revere it or ask it for a favor, and leaving offerings. Apparently this particular bush preferred foot-things. In ancient times, people probably severed their feet (or those of a captive enemy) and left the limb stub in the bush. Times have changed, though, and a foot-symbol is enough for the modern shrub spirit.

Lacking nothing in my life but the long-craved power to summon creatures of the forest to fight at my side, I opted not to leave the bush an offering. Even if it could bestow me with that squirrel army I've longed for, there was no way I was going to be beholden to that bush. Crazy bush.

I did leave the other offerings there, though. No sense pressing my luck.

Comments

[anonymous]

Oh, be honest. There are just two reasons you didn't leave a tribute:
1. Because the Queen Spider would have had your hide if the young 'un had returned home unshod.
2. Because your size 15 Hush Puppies wouldn't fit under the bush.

Great blog, by the way.

[stubby larue]

Very enjoyable.

[the wife]

Queen Spider? Am I that creepy?

I always wanted to be creepy.

[Dean]

Oh, you thought that was you? Sorry. I was referring to the 8-inch spider that lives in the closet in our son's room. Really. You better not go look, though. It might get you.

[Bonnie]

Creative mind. GREAT!

[Emilyf]

I wonder what it would be like to grow up with such imaginative parents, where the imagination is certainly nurtured.