{"id":6593,"date":"2020-12-11T06:38:51","date_gmt":"2020-12-11T14:38:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/?p=6593"},"modified":"2020-12-11T06:38:53","modified_gmt":"2020-12-11T14:38:53","slug":"lindas-christmas-grove-part-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/meditations\/lindas-christmas-grove-part-4\/","title":{"rendered":"Linda&#8217;s Christmas Grove (Part 4)"},"content":{"rendered":"<!--themify_builder_content-->\n<div id=\"themify_builder_content-6593\" data-postid=\"6593\" class=\"themify_builder_content themify_builder_content-6593 themify_builder tf_clear\">\n    <\/div>\n<!--\/themify_builder_content-->\n\n\n<p>As Linda drove Euchre Creek Road and climbed in elevation, sleet turned to snow. She parked her car at the cabin, bundled up in a couple layers of clothing, donned the rubber boots, and clomped through the snow toward the grove. About an inch of snow had accumulated and everything was quiet like only a quiet produced by falling snow can produce.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Linda entered the grove and the snow stopped falling on her. She wandered around, making her way to her favorite tree a ragged, lightning-split, half charred Sitka Spruce that seemed to evince wisdom if you stood in front of it long enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She sure could use some right about now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Linda heard a crackling behind her. She turned around and beheld a tall, dark-skinned man with long black hair wearing black from head to toe: ball cap, duster, boots. He was elderly in the face but not in the body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>There were no traces of snow on him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In all her years visiting the grove, Linda had never met another person outside of the Christmas decoration event. She stepped back, frightened. She said hello.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The man said hello back and reached out his arm to shake her hand. She took it and felt a powerful but gentle grip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He introduced himself as Albert.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI&#8217;m from the Euchre Creek band of the Tututni tribe. This valley was our home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Linda relaxed a bit. \u201cI&#8217;ve read about your history and displacement,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe&#8217;re all gone. But some of what we were is still around.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI don&#8217;t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI can save the grove.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Linda looked at Albert. She instantly believed him. She told him to tell her how.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cFollow me.\u201d<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>As Linda drove Euchre Creek Road and climbed in elevation, sleet turned to snow. She parked her car at the cabin, bundled up in a couple layers of clothing, donned the rubber boots, and clomped through the snow toward the grove. About an inch of snow had accumulated and everything was quiet like only a [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6594,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[43,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6593","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","category-meditations","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6593","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6593"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6593\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6595,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6593\/revisions\/6595"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6594"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6593"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6593"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6593"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}