When I was a little girl I dreamed of having a spring tea party in the top of a blooming tree. I fancied I could build a table around the sturdiest part of the tree's trunk, and then sip apple juice (because let's be realistic, folks: back then tea was dis.gusting) surrounded by walls of pink blossoms.
But I never found the perfect tree, and my apple juice tea party
remained a whimsical figment of my imagination. Eventually, all that
imaginative blossom-y magic multiplied and swelled, until it spilled out
of my imagination and into my wide ruled notebook in the form of a
In the story, a sly wizard turns a girl, about the age of nine, into a dandelion seed.
The wind blows the girl-turned-dandelion-seed far away to a distant
land before the spell is lifted and the seed becomes a girl again,
mid-flight. Surprised, but rather unafraid, the girl falls from the sky and
lands in a tree laden with blue apples.
curiosity, she plucks one of the plump blue apples and takes a juicy
bite. It tastes like cotton candy. Minutes later she shimmies down the
tree and discovers she is in an orchard of apple trees, each growing
apples of a different color and unusual (but tempting) flavor.
— and I can't remember how — the girl is discovered by fairies who take
her to their house, the Babbling Blossom Tree, where they sit and sip
tea surrounded by thick walls of pink blossoms.
It's a story that
never got finished (I think I was content to have made it to the tea
party in the treetop segment), and it's a story Jay must endure every time we encounter
a blossoming tree, like we did last week, tucked away in a corner of
I found me a patient man, I tell ya.
Happy almost-spring, my friends!
© by scj