Category: Little Pine

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.

Back on solid ground after climbing down from the elves’ house, the Little Pine and Red Leaf headed for Holly Trail.  As they walked along, they could see that the elf children had been hard at work.  Every few skips and jumps they saw another decorated drum, each more beautiful than the last.  They seemed to stretch in every direction all across the forest floor.

It was a good thing that Mother Elf had reminded them to listen for her children’s whistling.  Otherwise, they never would have found them.  Their handiwork was everywhere you looked and gave no clue about what direction they had headed.

But since the songbirds were gone now for the winter, there was no mistaking that the sound they heard up ahead was the whistling of the elves

They bounded down the trail and when they turned the bend, sure enough, there were the elves, putting the final touches on yet another gorgeous drum.  They shouted to the elves in glee.  “Look!  Look!  Some lunch from your mother!”

Soon the two friends and their elf pals were seated in a circle on the ground, sharing the wintergreen muffins that Mother Elf had sent along.  Red Leaf spoke up and asked the elves why they decorated the drums, and who would play them?  (This was Red Leaf’s first Festival of Light and he found all of these preparations quite amazing.)

“We decorate them so that when the sun turns to make his northward journey, he will be welcomed by their beauty,” one of the elves said.   “And on that day, all the creatures of the forest will rejoice.  These drums are for the fairies’ celebrations.  They will dance in wondrous troops, dozens to a drum.  And all the forest will echo with the sound of their dancing.”

Red Leaf tried to imagine what it would be like to hear ten thousand fairies dancing.  But he could not.  So much magic would happen on that day!  He could hardly wait for it to arrive.

The elves had to get back to work.  Countless drums were still waiting for their creative hands.  They thanked their friends for the snack and said goodbye.

So the two friends began their walk home.   It would be nearly dusk before they got there.  The sun was already starting to sink in the northwestern sky.   Down Holly Trail they tumbled, the happy sound of whistling in their ears.

After saying goodbye to Holly, the boys headed to the elves’ house.  Maybe they could come out to play.

The climb to reach the house was tricky, perched as it was atop a pile of fallen, moss-covered logs.  But that was half the fun.

They were surprised when they finally got there to discover that the front door was closed and the place was so quiet.  Usually peals of elfin laughter rolled from a wide-open door.

But when they knocked, the elves’ mother opened the door and greeted them with a happy smile.

“Come in, boys!  I’ve just finished baking wintergreen muffins.  I’m sure you would enjoy one after your long climb.”

She poured cups of fragrant tea and set out the berry-studded treats for them to enjoy.

After politely thanking her, they asked, “Where are the elves?  We thought they might want to come out and play.”

“Oh, there’s no time for play for them right now!” she laughed.  “Elves have a lot of work to do to get ready for the Festival of Light.”   Today, she said, they were out decorating the drums down by Holly Trail.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said.  “I’ll make up a bundle of muffins, and you can deliver it to them for a lunchtime surprise.  They’ll be easy to find.  You know how they whistle when they work.”  She piled the muffins in a bright, woven sack and handed it to the boys.

As they climbed back down the mossy slopes, they could hear Mother Elf singing.  Everything the elves did, it seemed, they did with laughter and joy.

By the time they got to the far end of the lake, the morning sky was milky with clouds and the air was thick with moisture.  In the woods, the high branches shivered in the wind, rattling a signal to the woodland’s creatures and birds that a storm was on the way. The two pals didn’t mind. To them, all weather was a marvelous ever-changing show.

“I think we’re going to get some snow,” Red Leaf said as he and his friend skipped across the frosty ground.

“That would be wonderful! I had a great dream last night about snow,” Little Pine said.

They were just rounding the curve of the lake when Holly Tree came into view. They stopped for a moment as the wind blew the strains of her song across the cold waters.

Above her, the boughs of the tall pines whipped in the wind and the hardwoods’ branches clattered as they swayed. But beneath them, Holly stood tall and unshaken, her evergreen branches reaching to the sky.  This, after all, was the season of her glory. 

From ancient times, the humans had sought her ancestors’ bright leaves and crimson berries to decorate their homes for the Festival of the Light.  Her family had served to carry the legends of many tribes from one generation to another.

Some of the legends spoke of man’s suffering and pain, and of redemption, forgiveness and renewal.  Some told of elves at play.  Some told of humble gifts given and graciously received.

Holly was pleased to represent the peoples’ stories and to play a part in their celebrations.  But even more, she was glad to stand in the middle of this magical forest singing to its creatures her glad songs of the steadfastness of the Light and its promise of everlasting life.

“Hi, Holly!” the boys said as they finally stood beneath her bright, scalloped leaves. “That was a wonderful song!”

“Thank you!” she said. “I’m practicing for the Call to Festival Day. I’m so excited that it will soon be here! Where are you boys headed today?”

“We’re going to the elves’ house to see what they’re doing,” Red Leaf said.

“Well, tell them I send my greetings. They’ve been up for hours. I heard their whistles at dawn. They’re such fun-filled, industrious little guys! Just like you two. Have a wonderful day!”

After his night time visit from the Snow Queen, Little Pine was surprised to discover that the woodland still wore its late autumn garb. Not a snowflake was in sight.

Still, the air was cold and everything around him sparkled with frost.  You never knew, when you greeted a December morning, what the day would hold.

When he told his mother about his dream, her eyes sparkled just like the frost.  “What a gift!” she said.  “How beautiful!”

“But why isn’t there any snow?” Little Pine asked her. She told him that dreams had a timing of their own.  Some of them foretold events that might take a while to unfold in our world.

“But it’s a very pretty morning, nonetheless, don’t you think?” she said, as she set his breakfast out for him, “A blue jay stopped by earlier and told me that the whole forest is tingling with anticipation for the Festival. It’s only a few days away now, you know. He said everybody is excited and busy.”

Mother Pine laughed remembering her conversation with the bird. “After you eat, why don’t you get your friend and see what surprises the woodland might have for you today?” she said to Little Pine.

And before the words had left her mouth, Red Leaf appeared on their threshold, his eyes bright and eager for adventure.  Off the two pals ran.  And Mother Pine smiled and wondered what tales he would bring home with him today.

Little did the Little Pine know when his mother wished him sweet dreams how sweet those dreams would truly be.

He drifted for a while into deeper and deeper sleep.  And then, when they had left all traces of their everyday world behind them, suddenly a vision appeared.

Emerging from a field of white pine boughs and golden light was the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

Her face was kind and filled with love.  And although she didn’t speak, he somehow heard her message .

“Hello, sweet child.  I am the Snow Queen, come to tell you about the miracle of Light.  Soon the glorious sun will begin his northward journey, and on the day he sets out, your world will rejoice.  For the sun is Light’s messenger, and he brings to your world new life and new beginnings.

“I create the winter snows to reflect the light he brings.  Every snowflake that falls celebrates its joy and peace.

“And all of this—our light, our hope, our promises and joy—are just part of the song of the Great Yes.

“The day of the Light’s return is a new note in that song.  And it will find its way into your hearts and sing there, for we are all its children.  And we, sweet ones, are dearly, dearly loved.”

And as the last words of her message floated into Little Pine’s understanding, the beautiful Snow Queen faded away, and he sank into deep and dreamless sleep, filled with comfort and joy.