Bitter the Cherry

Let it burn, let it blight.

Moon above and out of sight. 

Cloudy the welkin is tonight.

Peak the tale, let it start.

Let your wisdom lips unwrap.

Tell the story oldest friend.

Reach the end and start again.

Somewhere in a village, far from the home you call your own, lived once a good woman. She was happy and big herself, as was her laughter. And known was the woman truly in her little village, for the bestest pies ever were prepared by her hands. All the other women in the village were always jealous of her and often tried to distract her and steal her recipes, but the woman never told them any, and she wasn’t planning to either. Her recipes were her own. For her husband and her daughter the pies were meant to feed.

But what was truly the magic secret, that made her pies so yummy?

The woman’s secret was using the wild fruit of the forest. The woman had never once bought fruit from the town. No!

The wildest berries had a magical taste, as if the magic of the forest had blessed them. Their sugar boiled and bubbled. Cinnamon the woman added, vanilla she did pour. Ginger root she grinded and pepper she did too. Spices and honey to put inside the most delicious food. The oven she heated up and stuff them there for good. When the pies were ready the woman would run around the town to spread the joy of life and open up her windows so the smell of magic could reach everyone in town and take them always by the most wonderful surprise.

One day, drisk rainy and dull, the woman decided once again to climb up the mountain hills and pick up fruit. She hoped that with her pies even in a day so bad the taste and sweetness could make things feel better again. Even in the pouring rain the people could be happy. She could make that happen!

And so once again she walked into the wood. With big basket in her arms she headed. But this time things were different. And the woman crossed the bridge over the running river and down the path of mushrooms, she reached her spot like she always did. A clearing in the middle of the forest! Lush and luscious plenty with shrubs and greens and flowers blooming of all colors, shapes and sizes. And down there, by the end of the path she saw her favorite trees and bushes, the ones she always visited to fill up her basket.

She walked and sang herself the oldest country song.

Up I’ll take the country road, into the mountain’s peak I ‘ll go

Up the hills and down the river, wear thick socks so you don’t quiver

Bless mi soul to be strong, wish that nothing will go wrong

Fruit so tasty I shall pick, sweet and juicy, fairly meek

And as she sang so she hoped and reached the first shrub. A shrub covered up completely by strawberries. And down she fell on her knees to pick the most juicy strawberries she had ever seen. But there strangely from behind the shrub jumped out curious creatures. She counted one, two and three. She did. When the woman looked up she recognized what they were, but she did not believe her own eyes.

“Are you?” she asked them “We are indeed!” replied the fairies. Three of them and gorgeous as they flew around on their fragile-most wings. The first sat quietly on the branches of the shrub. Her dress made of bluebells and sea-holly flower, magical and blue. The second fairy had rosy cheeks as red as her dress. Thorny her attitude like thistle and she rhymed an old forgotten song. But the last fairy and third was perhaps the most beautiful of all. The fairy in green had a dress made of grass and she quickly begun looking at her reflection in the running river.

“My good fairies” said the woman “Forgive me, but I do not understand. What is it that you want from me?” And the fairies looked at each other and laughed.

“Woman of the village are you now? Well here we came not to worry your good nature but to guide you in your bad decision” “What bad decision?” replied the woman scared and the fairies rushed themselves to explain.

“The strawberries you are picking up from the shrub are awful and dry. So unlucky anyone who eats them. Please leave them right this instant! Otherwise, no one will enjoy your pies” But the woman did not understand.

“My good fairies, I have been coming to this shrub for years and picking my strawberries off the leafy branches. I have made pies to many I must say to fit a handful and no one has ever said a single bad thing about them” but the fairies did not like that at all.

“No” they said “Woman you are mistaken. This shrub is dry, not juicy, as it always has been. Listen to our word old woman and trust our knowledge. We are fairies, guardians of the forest and ancient as much as time. We know better than you do and you should not dare question our judgement!” so the woman could not refuse all that they said and simply sighed. Sad for there were no strawberries now in her basket, she moved on to the second shrub. A shrub wild and green, bearing the freshest berries her eyes had ever seen.

Berries of blue and berries of red. Berries old and new, berries all around her. On her knees yet again the woman fell, holding the basket firmly. But as she picked the first berry here came the fairies once again with their beauty and songs they flew in circles around the woman.

“What on earth are you doing?” they asked brightly and pondered.

“Picking up berries I do, for my pies back home” replied the woman. However the fairies didn’t like that either.

“No, no! You shouldn’t. These berries are so old, look at them there rotting” and the woman as they said se did and looked at them in wonder.

“My good fairies I do not mean to be disrespectful, but these berries look fresh as spring to me and tasteful as always. Forever I’ve been putting these berries in my sweets and people couldn’t stop to eat them” “Always?” questioned her the fairies “Listen here old woman, to our words prosperity. We are the fairies, guardians of the forest. You will not find creatures more brilliant and magical as we are in these woods, that we can assure you. These berries are old and squishy, so awful, as they always have been. Don’t you dare disrespect our knowledge human. You are neither magical nor wise. The people in your village are liars! They lie about your sweets and nobody truly likes them. Just trust in us and move along”  and so the woman did trust in them, for they seemed wise and magical and as advised so she did. Along she moved the path.

But soon enough she stopped again in front of her most trusted friend. A cherry tree she called Jerald. Rich plenty and strong. Up there on the heavy most branches she saw the sweetest cherries she had ever seen. Cherry pie was her favorite sweet to make and people in the village would like it too. She did not have strawberries or berries, but cherries now she did. And up the tree she climbed to pick up the sweetest treats.   

But here came the fairies once again and on the roots of Jerald they laid to rest. “Oldest tree Jerald is” Said the red fairy “So old, so very old” agreed her two sisters. The woman was now sad and hopeless. Cherries were her lats chance to do things right.

“My good fairies. Jerald has been my friend for many years and I always get down the best cherries off his branches. The sweetest cherries anyone has ever tasted. People would kill to get the recipe which I do not share. Let me at least have the cherries, please my fairies, please” but the fairies did not care the least bit.

“You are a disrespectful old woman. What would you know? Jerald is as old as we are, and we have known him since before he became so tall and mighty. However, the beauty of the cherry tree does not compare to the distasteful taste of its fruit. Cherries hear are bitter. The bitter-most you ever had. We are fairies, old and mystical. Our knowledge surpasses yours and our word you better cherish. People hate your pies woman and that they always have. The cherries here are bitter, as they always have been. You better not pick them up and if you love your pies, you wouldn’t dare put them inside of them”

Losing all hope the woman was now left alone by the fairies and she was almost crying. With basket empty she walked down the road. She returned home and locked the doors and all the windows. And people waited for her days after days to smell her pies and taste their sweetness, but the windows never opened again. Because the woman trusted what the fairies had said and as they advised her, so she did. She never went back to the forest to pick up fruit, but instead she went to the shop. As a result, her pies were awful and people really hated the new recipes, but the woman had faith in the fairies. Indeed, she did cherish their words.

What the woman didn’t know is that the fairies had lied to her. They had lied not once, but thrice. Three times and no less than that. About the strawberries and berries and all the cherries. Lied about their nature. Because the fairies weren’t the good kind. They were mean and selfish. And with the woman out of the way now they had all the fruit. Juicy, fresh and sweet, all of it for themselves alone. Yes. The fairies were wise. But hey were also devious tricksters of the forest.

And as the years went by the woman grew even older and her husband passed away and when her daughter came of age, she asked of her mother to give her the basket. The daughter was planning on walking all the way to the other town to pick up some of the things they needed. Like pasta, jam and buttermilk. And the woman of course told her daughter that she could go.

As the daughter began walking, she realized that the forest was the fastest way to go. Instead of going around the mountain, she would cross the forest and make it to the next town in half the time. She headed so, as she decided, deep into the wood. She followed the old path and there she crossed the bridge above the running river and then down she headed a road of many mushrooms. The daughter ended up in a place she had never seen before. A clearing in the middle of the forest. A clearing lush and luscious as any.

And right there, where the long path ended the daughter was lost for words to spot a wild shrub, heavy full it’s branches of strawberries unlike any other. All of them so red, big and juicy. Mother could make a great pie out of these ones, thought the daughter, because she still remembered that sweet and magical taste of her mother’s pies. But mother hadn’t made a single pie in many many years. And the daughter, curious and rather hungry moved towards the thick shrub and went down on her knees to pick some of them for herself. She looked around and nobody was there to stop her because the fairies you see that day had all stayed home to sleep the day in. So the daughter with pockets full of strawberries noticed a second shrub and as the first so she did the second. The daughter kneeled and begun picking up the berries off the second shrub. They all were fresh and moist from the morning rain and smelled of the exquisite scent of the forest. And when the daughter was done, she surely moved a tad further down the path and came across a known tree by name, a friendly tree as any.

Jerald was still there! Cherries plenty on his branches, yet to be eaten by someone. And so she turned her jacket now inside out and begun filling up the pockets with cherries. As she was almost finished, unable to carry more with her at the time, the daughter decided to head back home instead of the town. And walk back home she did.

When mother saw her with pockets full of fruit she gasped “Daughter” she said. “Daughter my where did you find all these fruit” “In the forest I did mother. In the clearing I did find them by the river. Here, mother, try them too. They are wonderful, with taste almost magical I’d say. I thought that maybe if I got you some of the wild cherries you would make again one of your special pies. We haven’t seen one of those in years” Now mother was furious! Because poor mother had trusted the fairies so long ago. Year the year slowly she had actually convinced herself of a truth that wasn’t real. That the wild cherries had horrible taste. So sure she was it was as if her tongue didn’t recognize their sweetness. No. What she though, that she felt. And the taste she felt was bad.

“How dare you bring in my home these disgusting fruit. So Dry and old and squishy. So very bitter those cherries are. Awful!” mother yanked one of the cherries out of the daughter’s hand and ate it, but she didn’t swallow. No. Instead she made a weird face and spat the cherry on her hand and then tossed the fruit out of the open window.

Now, what mother and daughter expected the least to happen, was for the cherry that landed on their backyard to actually be a good seed and before they knew it a stocky Cherry tree emerged from the ground. But this time things were different. Because the soil on the village was mostly dead and barren. Infertile-most in all the land and dry as a dandruff skull. The people who tried the cherries of the tree were not impressed at all. No. They were furious and devastated. The cherries from that tree were so bitter and distasteful even the pigs wouldn’t eat them. So they decided one day to tear out the tree and throw it over the cliff. And everybody gathered, all the people around that tree. They tied to bark with ropes and pulled as hard as they could to try and yank the tree out of the soil. But before all that happened suddenly out of the tree came the three fairies again. 

The first sat quietly on the branches of the tree. Her dress made of bluebells and sea-holly flower, magical and blue. The second fairy had rosy cheeks as red as her dress. Thorny her attitude like thistle and she rhymed another old medieval song. But the last fairy and third was perhaps the most beautiful of all. The fairy in green had a dress made of grass and she stood up in front of the tree to look at the humans. And brightly addressed them all. 

“How bad a judgment you got humans, I look at you and ponder. This tree right here is the best of the best. A thoughtful gift from the ancient forest and lucky you are so to see it grow in your own garden. What fools are you really to try and yank it out” But the people were angry and looked at each other confused more than calmly settled.

"Maybe you are wrong! We tried to fruit ourselves and found them horrible to say the least"

“How dare you!” said the fairy “Listen to me humans and my words dare you not take lightly. This tree is a gift and I would know better. Fairy and magical myself, so old I am and wise. The cherries on this tree that grows in your garden are the most delicious. All of the animals and creatures of the forest are so unlucky and sad not to have a tree as tasty as yours in the forest. But we are not here to steal your gift. No. The tree is yours and you should be happy we let you keep it. But since you have such a wonderful tree here there is no reason for you again to visit our forest. Keep your tree and we will keep our own. Now doesn't this sound fair?” And indeed her words, they did sound fair.

So the people of the village agreed to the terms. One of them even tried the cherries of the tree again and admitted they were not so bad as he had thought at first and so the people proudly called this tree their own and for ages to come they never again step a single foot inside the ancient forest.

And as you would expect, the selfish and canny tricksters, the fairies had proudly won. Making humans believe that the cherries on their garden where of the good kind, and the ones in he forest were a disgrace to all the fruit. When in reality, it was exactly the opposite.

So learn from their story and wisely keep, that not all that we hear is true and that you don’t trust someone simply because he tells you so, without any proof. In this cloudy curious world. Let knowledge be your weapon and judgement, your brightest light. Believe in yourself and things will magically be better