Author: Susan Minarik

The elves, of course, were still busily decorating the forest for the Festival.  When they weren’t making drums for the fairies’ dance, they fashioned garlands of the colored, fallen leaves to decorate the pines’ boughs, and draped strands of ivy around the hardwoods’ trunks. They were happy and industrious workers, mostly because, to them, their work was play.

Today they were into the piney section of the forest.  The air there was filled with the wonderful fragrance of the trees.  They started as soon as the morning light broke.  But because the days were so short now, they had to work quickly to meet their day’s goal before the darkness fell again.

That didn’t mean skipping lunch, though.  Elves let nothing interfere with their meals.  Food keeps them happy so that they can whistle merry tunes as they work.

Just before noon, they put aside their tools and found the lunch sacks that their mother had packed.  They were talking amongst themselves, trying to decide where they would like to rest, when the youngest one heard a sound off to the east.

“Listen!” he said.  “Do you hear music?”

The elves fell silent, and sure enough, a lilting melody was drifting through the trees.  They decided to follow it.  The only thing better than lunch, after all, was lunch with music.  So they skipped through the woods, in search of the sound.

Before long, they came to a clearing where the music completely filled the air.  In its center, a young tree dressed in her fine autumn leaves was pirouetting joyfully.

She stopped in mid-twirl when she saw them.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting an audience!  I was just rehearsing for the Festival.”

The elves giggled at her shyness and the elder one introduced himself and his brothers and explained that they were taking a lunch break from decorating the fairy drums.

“You’re the ones who do that?” the tree said.  “I’ve been seeing them all over the forest.  You do such beautiful work!”

“And you do such beautiful dancing!” the elder elf said.  “We would love to watch you rehearse while we dine, if you wouldn’t find it an intrusion.”

“Please do!” the tree said.  “I dance much better, actually, when I’m dancing for someone.  You just took me by surprise.”

So she danced, and the elves ate, elated to be treated to such a wondrous show.  And when at last she took her bow, they applauded and whistled until she blushed.   They gave her a cup of the morning’s fresh dew and shared their cakes to thank her.

When the last crumbs were gone, they bid her farewell and returned to their work.  And she danced on and on.

It was raining when Little Pine woke in the morning.  He loved the way the round little drops slid down his green needles and hung at their tips like pearls, reflecting the world all upside down.

After breakfast, he decided to visit the lake.   In a way, he giggled to himself, the lake was like a giant raindrop.  It held the world upside down, too.  He found his favorite spot, next to a big granite boulder, and sat down to watch the show.

It was a light, gentle rain, and the drops drew little circles as they slipped below the lake’s surface.  Then the circles spread themselves out in wonderful curving ripples that grew larger and fainter until they finally disappeared.  It was really quite beautiful, Little Pine thought.

But even more beautiful was the rain’s song.  It was a soothing sound, almost a whisper, like the sound of a faint breeze dancing through summer leaves.

Little Pine stilled his breath to hear it more clearly, listening with all his being.  The song made the world seem more luminous somehow, and larger.  The boundaries that separated him from the lake, the forest, and the sky almost seemed to disappear.

He sat listening for a very long time, lost in the beauty of the sight and the song.  His heart filled with a sweet and spacious tenderness that he couldn’t quite name.

But when he finally rose to return home, he noticed the tiny waves lapping against the lake’s shore.  And listening very closely, he heard their clear, small voices singing, “Peace.  Peace.  Peace.”

On the morning that Jack Frost sparkled the woods, Little Pine set out to visit his cousins at the far end of the forest.

As he neared their neighborhood, he heard a deafening, buzzing sound unlike anything he had ever heard before.   It frightened him a little, but his curiosity drove him onward.

Just as he got to the edge of the neighborhood, he heard humans loudly yelling.  He stood absolutely still, remembering the First Rule was never to let a human see you move.

Then, to his amazement, one of his cousins fell to the ground, making a mighty crash.  Looking around, he could see that others had fallen before him, large and small, young and old.  The humans were fastening giant chains to the trees and hoisting them on a big truck.  They laughed as they worked and steam came in great clouds from their mouths and noses.

As soon as the humans left, Little Pine ran back home to tell his mother what he had seen.  He was confused and dismayed.

Mother Pine told him that this happened every year.   She told him that Grandfather said that he learned from the birds that the humans took the fallen pines into their homes.  They hung tiny, brilliant lights and decorations from their branches and laid gifts at their feet.   It was the way, he said, that some humans celebrated the return of the Light.

That night, when Little Pine fell asleep, a snow owl came to him in his dreams.

“It is a great blessing, dear child,” the owl told him, “to be an evergreen tree.  With your bright needles, you sing to the world that life can endure the days of cold and of darkness.  You are a messenger of comfort, and hope, and promise.

“Those cousins of yours who gave their lives to be part of the humans’ celebrations receive special honors as their spirits return Home.  They expressed love beautifully through their earthly forms, and they offered them with thanksgiving.

“And while none of us knows in advance how long our earthly stays will be, or how our adventures will end, what a privilege it is to be one of those who gets to visit here.  Let your heart be glad, Little Pine, and your days filled with joy.  For we are all children of the Great Yes, and we are all dearly loved.”

Jack Frost was a little peeved with December.  (He had the temperament of an artist, after all.)

He had planned to start work in the forest two weeks ago.  But December let the warm weather go on and on.  Didn’t she know that he had to have cold?  Didn’t she care about his schedule at all?

He needed to create his jeweled designs!  He had orders from the Christmas elves for new ones, and they were up against an absolute deadline.  They had brooches to make, and earrings and pins.  She was holding up the whole show.  His reputation was on the line.

December, of course, hadn’t forgotten Jack, or Christmas, or the elves.  She laughed affectionately at his tantrums.  Someday, she sighed to herself, he will learn to trust that all things happen just as they should.

But now his day had finally come, and Jack rushed in, his irritation replaced with excitement.   He danced and laughed throughout the long night, tossing his frosty magic everywhere.  And when the sun rose in the morning, all the world shimmered with Jack’s jeweled designs.

The Christmas elves flew in to collect them, giggling their ooohs and aahhhs at every turn.  This was Jack’s finest work yet!

They returned to their workshop brimming with inspiration.  They could hardly wait to fashion their wares.

And as Jack slipped away from the day’s warming sun, he whispered, “Thank you, December.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Frost,” December said.  “You did a spectacular job.”

Little Pine wandered through the woods all day thinking about his friend, Red Leaf.  What could he take home as a token of their friendship?

Of all the leaves he had befriended this year, Red Leaf held a special place in Little Pine’s heart.  He had grown so close to the ground, right beside Little Pine’s branches.  They had shared so many adventures.

“What could I find that would remind me of him?” Little Pine wondered.  Red Leaf had loved everything and heard the song of the Great Yes in every sprig of moss, every blade of grass.

Little Pine remembered how Red Leaf would laugh out loud sometimes for no reason.  And when Little Pine would ask him why he was laughing, he would say “Just because I’m so lucky to be here.”

When late afternoon came, Little Pine stopped beneath the branches of a cousin pine.  He and Red Leaf often rested here together in the afternoon.  Red Leaf loved to watch the songbirds at play high in the elder pine’s boughs.   They were one of his favorite things.

Little Pine sat down and leaned against the tree’s sturdy trunk.  He would rest here, he thought, for just a little while.

As he closed his eyes, he imagined that he could hear the singing of summer birds and that Red Leaf was sitting beside him.   The sound of softly fluttering wings caught his attention, and when he looked up, he saw a beautiful white dove with golden ribbon tied in a bow around her neck.  The spirits of leaves danced all around her.

“I bring you greetings, Little Pine, from Red Leaf,” she cooed.  “He sends you great waves of joy.  He wants you to know that he hears the singing of your heart and that the two of you will be brothers in spirit always.”

Then the dove flew away.  And when Little Pine opened his eyes, right in front of him he saw a soft, pure white feather.   When he picked it up, he thought he heard the singing of summer birds, and mixed with their song, Red Leaf’s gentle laugh.

He laughed, too, and skipped happily home, the feather floating in his hands.

The sun was already well up into the sky when Little Pine woke.  As he peered out across the still waters of the lake, something felt different to him.  He listened deeply, but he couldn’t quite tell what had changed.

His mother set a bowl of porridge before him and sat down by his side.  “Little Pine,” she said softly, “The great oak released Red Leaf and his mother last night.  They’ve gone back Home.”

“Oh, then that’s what’s different.  I could tell that something had changed,” Little Pine said.  For a few minutes, he sat quietly, letting the news sink in. He was surprised, but he knew that it was the time of year when all the hardwoods’ leaves returned to their true Home.

“I’ll miss him,” Little Pine said. “He was special.”

“I know,” Mother Pine said gently. “But you’ll feel his spirit beside you every time you think of him. Just wait and see.”

The mother and son sat in silence for a while, remembering all the wonderful times that they had spent with their friends.   Forest creatures don’t mourn when their friends’ earth adventures come to an end.  They know that the love they share connects them always, across all the dimensions and beyond all time.  Only the human creatures believed that leaving their earthly forms meant good-bye forever.

Little Pine sat still for a moment, his thoughts focused on his friend. Then, remembering the previous day’s adventures, he chuckled and said, “Red Leaf sure had a great last day!”

Mother Pine smiled.  “He sure did! And I’m so glad you got to spend it with him,” she said.

“Me, too,” Little Pine said.  “Haha!  Wait until the other leaves in Home World get to hear his report!  They’re going to love it.” He took another bite of his porridge, still giggling inside as he imagined Red Leaf telling his leaf-friends in Home World all about his days in the forest.

“What shall we do to celebrate them, Mother?” Little Pine asked as last.

Mother thought for a few moments, then grinned.  “I know!  I’ll make a ground acorn cake for dinner in honor of Red Leaf’s mother. And you can find something special in the forest today to remind you of Red Leaf’s friendship always. Then, when we eat the cake, we can share stories about our friends together.”

“What a great idea, Mother!” Little Pine laughed.  Then he finished his porridge and ran out the door, eager to see what special token he could find in honor of his friend.

Red Leaf’s mother tucked him into bed right after supper, and as she always did, she kissed him tenderly on the forehead and wished him the sweetest of dreams.

He fell asleep immediately, drifting easily away.  Fragments of his day danced through his dreams.  His visit with Little Pine to the elves’ house, the images of troupes of fairies dancing on the ornamental drums, and the wondrous songs of the golden grasses all wove themselves together.  He saw his feet racing across a forest floor dappled with sunlight and striped with the shadows of the great trees.  He felt the softness of moss and the crunch of fallen leaves beneath his feet as he ran.

Then the music of the grass choir returned and lifted him gently above the ground.  It carried him high into the treetops and  upward into a vastness where glittering stars hung in a velvet sky.   He floated there for quite some time, borne on the flow of the choir’s soft music.

As he gazed at the stars, a cloud of light drifted toward him, shining with silver and gold.  And when it was right before his eyes, the image of a shimmering silver maple leaf appeared and it spoke to him.

“I heard the question in your heart, my child,” it said, “as you ran across the layers of fallen leaves.  I heard you ask, ‘Where do they go when they leave their forms?’ and I knew that you had forgotten the place where your essence dwells.   That often happens when your spirit inhabits its earthly body.

“Because your love is so strong for the leaves with whom you danced in the summer winds, I wanted to remind you of your heart’s true home.

“It was your request to have this earth adventure, to experience being an oak leaf.  Do you recall?  You and all your leaf friends had to practice a long time to be slow and steady enough to hold molecules of matter in your energy patterns.  You had to study all the kinds of magic that a leaf performs and to master them.  And when you finally passed all the tests, we sent you to curl inside a tight bud, right here, on this tree, in this forest.  Remember?”

“Yes! Yes! I do remember, Silver Leaf!” the little oak leaf exclaimed.

“Then you remember, too, that when your tree releases your leaf-form, you float to the ground below.  And the instant you touch it, your spirit is released, your adventure complete, and you wake to find yourself back home, with all your beloved friends.”

“Yes, Silver Leaf,” the little leaf sighed, his heart filled with gladness.  “And in the meantime, I got to be here, right now, to play with Little Pine and all my leaf friends, and to watch the Festival of Light unfold!  This was even better than I ever could have dreamed it would be.”

And as he spoke, the Silver Leaf faded away.  And the little one floated through the velvet, star-sparkled sky on the music of grasses until he was far, far away.

Supper had been ready for nearly an hour, and still the boys weren’t home.

You might think that their mothers were growing anxious.  It wasn’t like young boys to be late for a meal, after all.

But worry is unknown in the hearts of the forest creatures.  They know that all things happen by design at exactly the right time, and that each of us is perfectly and forever safe in the loving embrace of the Great Yes.

Nevertheless, the mothers were curious.  They decided to ask Grandfather where the children were.

Grandfather was the forest’s elder spruce.  He stood on a slope at the far end of the pond.  From there, he could gaze across the entire expanse of the forest, and he watched its entire goings on with great love and care.  He awakened the forest beings at the first sliver of dawn, and whispered good night wishes as the last hint of day faded from the western skies.

The moment that the mothers thought to ask him what had become of their children, he heard their requests in his heart.  And they heard his laughter in return.   “They’re nearly at your doorsteps,” he told them in his telepathic way, “and they’re famished and full of stories.   If I were you, I’d turn down their beds.  They have had quite a day.”

The mothers thanked Grandfather.  And no sooner had they followed his suggestion and prepared the boys’ beds, than the boys were bursting through their doors.

“Mother!  Mother!”  Red Leaf shouted, filled with excitement.  “I’m sorry that I’m late.  But wait until I tell you about my day!”

Mother Oak reminded her son to wash his hands, then she poured him a bowl of soup and sat down to hear all his adventures.

At the far end of the pond, Grandfather smiled and watched the moon rise.  The he began to sing his night time songs to all who dwelt within the circle of his loving care.  And peace descended on the forest, and all its creatures were content.

As the two forest friends neared their homes, dusk was indeed falling, spreading deepening shadows across the woodland’s floor.

For a moment, when they first heard the music wafting through the trees, the two boys thought that they must have gotten turned around, that the sound was the whistling of the elves.

But then they realized that this was a different sound altogether, a rich and melodious harmony of tones sung by many voices.

It was so beautiful that they couldn’t resist following it.

The nearer they got, the more thrilling the song became.  The high notes seemed to rise to the sky, and the deep ones to penetrate the very earth beneath them.

They felt as if they were floating on it, called by its source.  And at last, as they rounded a bend, they saw the golden singers.

“Peace to all!” they sang.  “Peace and love and joy!  The Light has come!  The Light has come!  Let our hearts rejoice.”

The forest friends stood listening to the choir until the moon rose in the sky.  Then, breaking from the music’s entrancing spell, they turned toward home.  And still, even though their feet were on the ground, they felt as if they were floating.