Water of Earth.

Camouflaged in the swamps, a flighty earth mother avoids your gaze. Nervous and poised to flee, but grinning – maybe she’s blushing at the compliment you just paid her. Or maybe she’s treating that spanish moss above her like mistletoe; what’s one parasitic plant or another between friends? Kiss her quick, while you have the chance. She only comes around now and then.

Is the bonnet reminding you of Little Red Riding Hood? Or of a mushroom’s cap? Who else might be refusing to meet your gaze?

This is an earth mother – fecund and generous if you’re on her good side, and maybe even if you’re on the bad one. Her mirror is the world around her, the changes she’s made in the web of connections that come easy to her. She has favors to call in when she needs them, because she’s given so much of herself. Maybe she could do you a big one. But be sure you can pay it back when it’s time; the swamp has lots of places to hide a body. Not that it’d come to that. Right?

She’s the one who knows the world.