|Longhouse photo: Roadstories.ca|
Much of my inspiration for Raven’s Path comes from this nearby site. I visited as a small child and continue to go yearly. The moment I cross the threshold of the palisade, history wraps around me and drapes with the comfort of a blanket. Its call is inexplicable. Each time I enter a longhouse—plants hanging from rafters, animal pelts tossed casually on the side platforms, wood smoke acrid and familiar—I pause. Center hearths glow, flickering eerily over the bark walls, contentedly snapping out warmth. I listen with my heart, take heed of my soul and I can hear it. The echoes of the past. Out of the ashes of the fires that burn, rise the people caught in the crossfire of nations.