The Language of Story always starts with ...Once upon a time in a place where flowers grow around the clock, and in profusion a long time ago. Hawaii was a very different place then, and though I didn't know it I was not only prematurely born, but a newbie to the Papa the planet. Highly-strung, a sensitive from the start I came with the sight for things unseen, but as it happens sometimes, my People were going through the Hiding Times and there was very little room for them to nurture a sensitive.
These islands in the Pacific and my People would see so much more than disappearing flowers; language, culture, and values that had no definitions for 'profit' would nearly disappear. But that is where the magic took hold for magic thrives on the illusion of dis-appearing. All through the worst of the Hiding Times, one branch, one wing of magic persisted in every family on every island. Dust covered though they might have been, the magic --the stories and the genealogy of every flower--was told under a mango tree, over a pot of rice just washed, in the shallow waters of Waimanalo Beach, in back yards while patching nets and while planting sticks of hibiscus. The stories passed patiently, and the sticks of hibiscus became a wall of a hedge and the border town for my imagination.
There was no Bordertown in those Hibiscus Hedge times, but now there is. Lucky now! And yes, what is grand is the wind-like nature of luck ... it passes through time, concrete, habits and most easily through a Hibiscus Hedge.
If one is curious enough long enough, dragon wings ride those lucky winds and dragons have no never-mind about the age of curious riders ... there's room for the tot and tata, too. Read my blog "Red Hibiscus Hedge" for regular musings and stories about my Hawaiian Island roots as well as the fairy tales that grow beyond the hedge.
Mahalo nui loa to Terri Windling (original creator of Bordertown) and her inspirational blog and Moveable Feasts which have done so much to encourage me to ride the dragons.