Sunday, there was a Native American Pow Wow at Red Clay State Park. Since it had warmed up just a bit and the kids were growing restless, we decided to drive down and check it out. There were quite a few people. It was interesting but my daughter and I mostly stayed on the outskirts. (There was quite a bit of Sage burning at various booths and we both are fighting sinus issues at the moment.)
Inside one of the replica houses, we spoke with a couple of park rangers keeping warm in front of the burning fire place. They answered my daughter’s questions as well as a few of mine. (I didn’t realize that sometimes in the Summer that the clay and straw packed between the logs would fall out and the people would leave it alone until cooler weather. It would allow the air to circulate during the hotter months.)
We took a long walk on one of the hiking paths and stopped by to gaze at the Blue Hole Spring. (It was said to be an entrance to an “Underworld” where the seasons were the opposite of ours which is why the spring is always cold in the Summer.) It was nice watching my daughter delight in nature with the sound of drums beating in the distance.
My great grandparents were Cherokee. I never got to meet them but my grandparents and my father have told me stories. There for a moment standing surrounded by trees it felt like I was a part of time. My daughter walking ahead of me was the future, the echo of chanting and drumming behind me was the past, and I was the present but we were all on the same twisting path through the woods.