The Magical Hawthorn

The grounds of Riversleigh are truly magical – a place where dreams come true. I awoke this morning after a dreaming about my childhood in Ireland, and the one tree that always has special meaning for me.

Travellers call it the `bread and butter tree’, others call it the Hawthorn. It’s not a beautiful tree, but the tiny hips it produces are good for you, and even the leaves can be eaten when you are very hungry. It gave shelter to the weary traveller, and was always a welcome sight.

After waking, I went for a walk in the grounds, and found myself surrounded by elves, tiny men in green tugging at my skirt. They were Irish elves of course, the Leprechaun contingent, even more mischievous than the rest.

In spite of my misgivings, I let them guide my steps. I’m not such a fool any more as to fall for the Pot of Gold mischief – leprechauns are far too canny for mere humans and trick us every time. Besides, I’ve discovered that the pot of gold I was really seeking was under my feet all the time.

But they were so very excited, so insistent that I would enjoy their discovery, that I trusted them – and they led me into a sweet green glade, where grows the most magnificent Hawthorn I have ever seen.

This Hawthorn is the leprechaun’s home. As they skittered through its branches, pelting me with hips, I felt as excited and happy as a child. I sat beneath the Hawthorn, covered in hips and elves, and felt a cold wet nose in my ear. It was Moffy, the companion of my childhood, a lean black greyhound and the best rabbit dog in all Ireland. My father had called her Molly, but when I was only able to manage `Moffy’ with my baby lips, that was what everyone called her.

Moffy grabbed my skirt and I got to my feet – I went running after her through the trees, and every step felt light. The colours of the day were so vivid and pure I knew I was seeing them with the eyes of a child again. Moffy sped down a hill and I rolled after her, tumbling through the grass and shrieking with delight.

When I was young,
I was free,
And the world was my home,
and the Hawthorn tree
shared bread and butter leaves with me.
The waves on the shore
Asked for nothing more
Than my company.
All the world could teach
was in my reach
And the earth and sea
Were good to me.

As I returned to the Manor, I had to leave Moffy at the Hawthorn tree with the leprechauns. But I know she will be waiting for me every time I go there, and that I can once again know the heady freedom of childhood, running with her through the green wild.