As my readers will remember, I wrote a few months ago about my concerns for the single swan I had been watching on Otter Pond. This species is known to mate for life, and while a female swan who loses her mate will usually leave to find another, the male tends to stay in his own stomping or swimming ground in hopes that a lady will find him. His slow, solitary, sunset swims were breaking my heart.
I had thought about creating my single swan a profile for a fowl dating site. “Has prime waterfront real estate in the Hamptons. Prefers Nestflix over flightclubs. Trumpeter swans swipe left.” I hoped both our lonely souls were cheered a bit by the triumphant, lighted Christmas tree in the middle of the pond which had been restored to its annual glory. (Thank you to whoever was responsible!)
On the winter solstice, I created a special ritual and was planning to read my favorite Mary Oliver poem called “Swans,” which is really about faith. In the poem’s honor, I found a beautiful swan king ornament to put on the altar in the middle of the circle. It just happened that I put him next to the green candle, which I had anointed with rose essential oil to manifest love. The solstice is actually the equinox when the days become longer and light triumphs over dark so it is a good time to work positive energy which I desperately needed, especially in the love arena.
Well in the days following I didn’t exactly have men showering me with gifts and attention but on Christmas Eve day, I was walking by the pond and stopped in my tracks. Shut up. There, in the middle of the pond, my single swan had a mate! This was a Christmas miracle, better than any Hallmark movie where the time-travelling prince who had to fulfill his quest to find his true love ran afoul of the curse and ghosted the girl only to appear under her tree Christmas morning with a diamond ring and gluten-free baked goods and a pony.
As I stood there, the two swans looked right at me and swam right up to the cattail reeds with a sunburst on the water perfect for the Instagram photo. Of course, I thought. I put the swan next to the love candle and he was the one who received the magic of the spell. I believed they were swimming over to thank me and not because crazy ladies in odd hats calling to the birds are the most likely type to have a little bread to throw their way.
I couldn’t wait to spread this good news and the amazing, although not exactly intended, consequence of my love spell.
When you look at various love spells it is easy to see why you might think they’re for the birds: Carry a whole nutmeg in your armpit for 48 hours, grind it up, and add it to a bottle of red wine and serve it to your heart’s desire. Pick up his shoes as soon as he takes them off and put yours inside of them and leave them like this until morning. And there’s something about fingernails and no underpants in a cemetery but I think I will not go there.
All I can say is if, in the end, what I accomplished is to bring two swans together who fly off into the sunset to Boca Raton, I am satisfied.