A festive fable


As a newspaper reporter, once a year I wrote a piece of fiction in place of my weekly column. It was a Christmas story. This year, instead of mailing a Christmas card to my friends and readers, I decided to publish something different from my usual writing, that I could offer as an electronic greeting. Though it has a festive flavour, it has more to do with winter than with Christmas.

December 21 is Winter Solstice, when the sun's apparent path across the heavens moves furthest from the Northern Hemisphere. Afterwards the days start growing longer again. This is an important symbolic time of death and rebirth, and of sorrow turning to joy.

What follows is part poem, part fable, something I wrote in September 1999, but it seems just as fitting for this holiday season.


The September nymph

The meadow warlock charged a nymph
to weave a wreath of small white asters
with which to crown the snow queen
when she came.

The lithesome girl's nimble fingers
found the green canes brittle.
She could not contrive a crown
until with patience taught herself
to twist some finer twigs around the
splintered stalks.

The spirit peered askance
at the delicacy of Queen-Anne's-lace
and she pondered how better
to honour winter's white lady,
then wove several heads
into her garland.

Next it was abundant bullion
of butter-and-eggs
that caught her emerald eye.
"And shall we not welcome
the radiant empress
with all the beauty and wealth
of our fields? Let me also
add this spray of goldenrod."

Then there were pink honey orbs
of sweet clover to add.
And finally the amethyst jewels
of the larger asters
the gentle sprite could not resist.

Such was her greed
for this glorious abundance
that she did not notice October
and November passing
until frost fairies descended
painting the meadow silver overall.
The nymph's brilliant wreath
dried to brown in an instant
and she turned toward home
with tears in her eyes.

"Foolish child," the warlock
spared no sympathy. "Look at the days
you have wasted in your fantasy.
Your sisters have prepared a feast
and you will have no part in it
to celebrate the snow queen's coming."

The little nymph fled in sorrow
to the verge of a shining lake,
and that is where
the white lady of winter
found a small girl wearing a crown
of withered flowers.

"Dear child, why do you weep?"

"Lady I wove the fairest garland
to adorn your regal head,
but it has faded
and now my master is angry."

The copyright of the article A festive fable in Living With Nature is owned by Van Waffle. Permission to republish A festive fable in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.

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