Little Goose Girl

One of my favorite fairy tales is that of the Goose Girl.  It’s almost like several fairy tales wound up in one; drops of blood that lament the girl’s fortune, a talking horse, a traitorous servant, a false marriage and of course the earth kindly helping the heroine, from the wind to the mice.

At one point, while watching the king’s geese, the girl lets down her long hair and begins to brush it.  The little boy helping her wants to pluck a golden shimmering hair but she laughs and calls out for the wind to snatch his hat.  By the time he comes back to the hill where she sits her hair is done up and another day passes.

I felt much like the little boy in the story today.  I walked down to Fremont for groceries, ready for a stroll in the sun beneath my found red hat.  A few blocks from my house the wind kicked up wonderfully, but it snatched my hat.  Every time I tried again, there went the hat, spinning and tipping down the sidewalk.  Who is my goose girl, chanting for the wind to distract me?


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