While the Fool was lifted through the clouds of scarabs, he found himself in a forest. It was a thick evergreen forest. He decided to walk over the soft grassy forest floor and explore.
The trunks of the trees had complicated bark patterns on them. They almost spelled out a message. The Fool stood in front of one and began tracing the lines in it, hoping that he would be able to read it. The bark was rough, and as he traced the crevices, he could smell the thick sappy firs.
A wind picked up, blowing from his left to his right. The trees all bent along with the wind and needles from the branches were blown off the trees. Pollen that came off the trees created a cloud of yellowish-green. Large sticks shot out of the forest canopy and hit the ground. If the Fool had taken a step forward he would have been impaled by one.
The wind died down, and a gnome came out of a small door in the side of the forest’s only oak tree. The Fool hadn’t noticed the door before, but when it opened he saw that there was a small round window above and to the right of the door, and further up, a chimney. The gnome wore a blue jersey with a thick brown belt around his middle, and soft fur boots. He donned a large red pointy cap and gathered up the sticks into a bundle.
The winds come in late fall, the gnome said. It gives me all these sticks to burn through winter, and all I have to do is pick them up. I don’t have to cut any trees down, nor do I have to spend hours hiking around searching. The sticks are just provided.
I used to live far away, the gnome continued, but I wanted to be closer to the firewood harvest. I’m further away from friends and family here, but I’m closer to warmth and security. I can visit my family and friends anytime I want.
The wind picked up again, and the gnome waited as more sticks fell from the trees and onto the forest floor. He then took his bundle into his tree home. The temperature was cool, but there was still some summer in the air.
The gnome came back out and kept on working.
If this stops working, the gnome said, I can just move on and find a new place to live. Nothing is permanent, but if it works, it works. I can’t dwell on the future possibilities if it is working today.
Scarabs began coming out of the earth around the Fool’s feet. They swirled around as if they were doing a cosmic dance. As they flew around him, the Fool could hear the almost-mechanical clicks of their wings. There were more and more flying around him until he couldn’t see the forest anymore, or the gnome, or anything but scarabs. He was lifting off the ground on the same piece of earth he was on before. He wasn’t meant to find warmth or security on this journey.