It was not for his wealth that she stayed with him, as many thought. The riches he possessed--souls and spirits, granite and rock--were worthless to her, who counted wealth in harvests and rainfall. And he knew this and loved her all the more for it.
No, she stayed with him because he was the only one who understood the dark circles under her eyes, who did not wonder why a goddess of spring should be so pale. Who knew why the beings most beloved of her were those that only came out at night: the tawny owl, the white-winged moth, the moonflower with its haunted glow.
Many in the mortal realm imagined her with the long flowing hair and gauzy dress of a nymph, but she was not a nymph. She was the one kneeling in her mother's abundant fields with her hands in the dirt, her brown curls cropped short, her farmer's tunic exposing the bristly hair on her legs. Her body was stout and stocky, her arms well-muscled from digging, just like her mother's. But where her mother's skin was a deep, rich tan from centuries spent in the sun, her own remained pallid as ever, like a plant's white roots buried beneath the soil.
Yes, people too often ignored the roots, forgot where things sprang from. A tree's leafy branches may touch the sky, but it is the roots that give it stability, the roots that plunge deep underground and flourish in perpetual darkness.
She relished the yearly walk to the underworld. She refused all offers of chariots and winged sandals, preferring to take her time and feel the earth beneath her feet. As she walked, she observed how the undergrowth changed from riotous blossoms to spiraling ferns, clusters of mushrooms, dark carpets of moss. The path sloped further and further downward. Darkness dawned slowly. At the end of the path her husband would be waiting for her, and she would finally break into a stride, and meet his embrace, and feel his strong wiry arms encircling her. And she would think of her mother, there up above with the winter descending. Each turn of the seasons was bittersweet--forsaking one love to be with another. Such was the cycle, and the goddess was pleased.
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