Women in the Woods

In the Ardens, the women gather around the campfire at Indian Circle on the mornings of the solstices and equinoxes. As I understand it, the tradition started when, after a hike, some women were sitting on the huge rocks in Naaman's Creek  and talking. They were relishing the company of other women and said, "Hey, we need to get together more often." Feeling nature's rhythms, as women do, they agreed to meet on the quarter points of the earth-based calendar. I am not sure how many years the gatherings have been taking place or even if it matters.

I went to my first Women in the Woods two years ago today, shortly after we signed the agreement to buy our house and about three months before we moved in.  I thought it would be a great chance for me to meet the women of the Ardens and learn some names. Only one problem. The women of the Ardens are known for having some of the best winter hats I have ever seen. Several of the women are knitters, and for those who aren't, the Ardens have master hat makers who sell their beautiful, funky wearables. I am afraid that when I was first introduced to this bevy of future neighbors that I experienced "hat focus." You know how eye witnesses to crime often focus on the weapon instead of the features that could potentially nail a criminal? I was too focused on the hats these women were wearing to take notes of faces. When we moved to Arden in the middle of summer (No hats!), I had to be reintroduced to everyone because I had memorized their toppers. In my defense, I was a fine arts major in college with a concentration in fibers. I am wowed by that stuff and knew I had found my tribe.

But back to Women in the Woods. I am not going to divulge what goes on around the campfire. As minor deities, we deserve to keep our mystery intact. There is a reason that men who go hiking in the forest on solstice and equinox mornings quickly turn around and hightail it out of there when they see all that feminine power focused in one location. I will tell you this: gathering with women, in person and without agenda, is a gift, and it is treated as such. No politics here. We lose that at the entrance to the Arden Woods. It all falls away.

This morning's gathering fell the night after a particularly contentious election held by the village of Ardencroft. And by contentious, I mean police presence, death threats, and newspaper headlines. Former besties took up sides against one another. Turmoil fractured committees.  The village government was at risk of shutting down. I have not blogged about all that was going on in Ardencroft because as a resident of Arden, it is not my story to tell. I do know how scary the ordeal was for those involved. Though last night's vote was decisive, the issues are not one-hundred percent resolved. This morning some of the women who were most closely ensnared in the drama were present at Women in the Woods. You would never have known it. We were a circle around the fire without hierarchy, without a target. At one point, because of some news unrelated to the elections, a group hug became necessary. Snow falling on trees and stream, the fire purifying all of us with its smoke, the miraculous appearance of flowers. I felt the strength of womanhood that surpasses all that other shit.

As women, we gather. We mark the moment.  We herald the incoming season. We disperse to wear all the various funky hats we wear in our villages. The earth continues on its orbit around the sun. We shall meet again.