The trees were given a rare chance to glimpse themselves in their reflections, watching their likenesses ripple in the breeze and finding themselves quite handsome. The water didn’t stay long enough to cause any harm, but gave them just enough time to comb out their branches and organize their buds before summer.
Those first green things, so timid in the light and so unafraid of frost, are the bravest souls I know. Before the trees unfurl their leaves they’re there, daring to bloom in the sunlight while it lasts. Before it’s hidden away. One glorious week or two of brilliant life until it fades away, happy, satisfied, willing to wait another year for its time in the sun to come ’round again. I wish I could be half so patient.
The little boy couldn’t find any red roses but he found some lovely green ones by the creek and picked those for his mother. He got out his water paints and considered painting them red, but then he decided against it. After all, in early spring green is just as stunning as red could ever hope to be.
He saw the little girl headed his way and froze. There was nowhere to hide on this desert of a roadway. She grew closer. He crouched, ready to jump. She stopped, looked at him a moment, then continued past.
He croaked with relief. He was certain she was going to kiss him. Every toad knew that little girl kisses gave them warts, cooties, and maybe even the heebie-jeebies. One of his friends got them so bad he turned into a prince. They never heard from him again.
The beast reached out its monstrous arm to comfort the frightened child. She jumped with the beast’s talons touched her shoulder. Then she noticed its talons were fuzzy. Soft, even. She swiped at her tears and turned to get a better look. “Well, you’re not so scary after all.”
The beast smiled and tried to be brave. The child had terrible, red eyes. Some sort of liquid was leaking down its face. More dribbled from its nose. Its fur was all shaved off and it was covered in strange blankets. Whimpering, the beast stepped back into the forest as quiet as it could.
The undine hummed an underwater lullaby to the eggs in her care. She tucked the salamander eggs a little tighter into their cloud and dusted the settling mud from the clutches of frog eggs. Oh, she could hardly wait till they were hatched and filled her pond with happy swimming friends.
The noise of the crowd fell away as she stepped forward to accept her scepter. She forgot to breathe a moment when she first saw it. It would be the symbol of her reign and it was far more beautiful than she had hoped. She gripped it with her left hand and held it high. “Let the leafing out begin!” she called to the trees, and the forest filled with cheering.
The little boy screwed up his face as he looked at the pussy willows. “I just don’t get it. How can something start life at the end of a tiny branch and grow up to be an animal that purrs at our feet and chases mice in the basement?”
His sister shrugged. “Maybe that’s where the stork finds them before he brings them to their mommies.”
He stared at them a moment, considering. “That makes sense.”
Jennifer Shelby 