Hazel is a wonderful character with many attributes, some of which you all know about and a lot of others which may only colour your dreams.
I can best describe him as being a great old lad, though there are still many things which I do not know about him. On occasions we have long talks on a variety of subjects which interest us both.
The greatest problem I have with him is knowing when he is telling the truth and not simply filling in time with nonsense.
One night we were sitting by the fire and I asked Hazel about his fosterlings’ name.
“Her name is very unusual. I have heard of your folk using Irish and English names like Sean, Seamus and even Siobhan or Bizzie for women folk, but never before have I come across Droocta ? ”
Hazel leaned back in his favourite corner and scratched his head for a while and then with eyes twinkling he leaned forward and with a big smile and said,
“Ah her true naming will take awhile, may be even years afore her character comes shining through and she be named then for what she be. Do you see ?”
“I didn’t realise that Hazel, yes, I can see the rightness of that, but what does Droocta mean?”
Hazel gave an even bigger smile saying,
“Well, rightly it isn’t her name at all, it’s her growth-place.
What you call a Pod, is in human Irish Druchta, in our language it is Droocta.
Our language has differences and is older. Now do you understand ?”
I frowned at what he had to say for I was mystified.
“So are you saying that she doesn’t have a name at all yet ? ”
Hazel then spoke without a smile on his face.
“Ha’h now you be getting it, no, she don’t have no name of her own.
After while I shall be considering a seedling name for her when I know what might be fitting. Then down along the row of time another will give her a different name and that too might change, who knows?”
Hazel stopped talking and looked me firmly in the eye.
This time there was no twinkle in his eyes, no humour about him.
He was as serious as I had ever seen. I knew to stay silent.
Time passed and eventually Hazel momentarily gave a slight smile and started to speak.
“We, who you humans have many names for such as Elves, Faeries, Gnomes, Trolls and Pixies or Piskies, are created by Mother Nature.
We know Her as the Goddess Derbilla.
Our creation of each individual occurs at a time when the stars and planets, together with the sun and moon are aligned, for it is then that stirrings take place deep within the earth.
Our new ones are formed, each seeded within a green fungus, the droocta, which protects the new life. Similar to a mushroom, the droocta pushes its’ way through the earth out into the sunlight and the new one is cradled within. All of my folk began this way and we stay within our ‘pod’ for five years.”
Hazel then stopped, returning to his normal self he said,
“I have done a lot of talking, me throat is fierce raw so now how’s about filling
me cup Boss ?”
“It is a pleasure Hazel and thank you for telling me about your creation” I replied.
For the rest of the night the whisky flowed down his throat until all the bottles were empty.
Poor old Hazel fast asleep and snoring loudly after too much excitement!
Perhaps you, my readers, would like to help Hazel and suggest a name for her early years and you never know what Good Luck may come your way !
The nurturing and caring Hazel.