The Flower

Once upon a time, there was a farm. And in this farm lived an old man and his granddaughter. This was always an ordinary farm. The old man excelled in raising his crops--he had the best cabbages and melons grown in town. He prided himself in his genius and ability to understand the ways of nature. His granddaughter admired him and aspired to be just as talented as he. She was only 6 years old but could already learn how to best place the plants in pattern to the sun.

However, one night, something strange happened.

As the pair were strolling along the field after supper, the girl suddenly squealed and bolted. The grandfather was startled beyond reasoning and clutched at his chest. Within seconds, the girl screamed for her grandfather to run over. The old man chortled to himself. The girl must have found another pack of fireflies. She always gets so excited when she discovers their hangout. However, this time it was different.

The most beautiful flower was blooming in the far corner of his field. This was astonishing because he had already set his mind to raise corn in that sector of the field the next day It had been abandoned for too long, and it was time to utilize that space. The granddaughter knew this and begged the grandfather to leave the field alone. She was convinced that they could learn the ways of that flower and grow more. They had never seen anything like it before--it was so angelic. The petals were silky white and glowed in the moonlight. Never had they smelled such a sweet aroma from mother nature--it was mesmerizing. The old man set his mind to his granddaughter's plan. He convinced her to go back home with him first and to come back for the flower first thing in the morning. She loved the flower with as much passion as she could at the age of 6. It was a thing of beauty and she vowed to take care of it. It was the most wondrous thing that could have happened to them.

In the morning, the flower was just as it was. Except this time it seemed as if it were absorbing the sunlight and radiating all the beauty of it from its wispy petals. It was exceptional to look upon. The old man then turned to his granddaughter and boasted his skills. He promised her that he'd raise that flower right and that many more will be able to grow in its place. She smiled eagerly and proceeded to take a picture of the flower. Just in case it dies, she told him. But in her heart she trusted her grandfather and knew that it'd all work out.

The old man flexed his muscles and proceeded to uproot the weeds around the flower. He then laid the best fertilizers and fetched the freshest spring water. His granddaughter watched him in awe. He explained to her that flowers must be watered first thing in the morning and the soil must be high in nutrition. She nodded eagerly, absorbing all of his wisdom. That night, the pair revisited the flower, but something was different. The flower wasn't standing as straight up. The girl was alarmed and questioned her grandfather. He reassured her that it was fine. The flower must have been sitting in the hard soil for too long and was dying. Now that he's taking care of it, the flower will get better. She flashed her white, white teeth in a huge grin and went back home with him after blowing the flower a soft kiss.

The next morning, the old man flexed his muscles again and proceeded to pack more of his finest soil into the ground. The flower was starving for nutrients it seemed because it was no longer shining as brilliantly. That night, the same thing happened--the flower was wilting. The granddaughter started crying, but the old man reassured her. She then ventured to suggest to her grandfather that perhaps his techniques were off. The flower didn't seem to be thriving in the rich soil and fresh spring water as he had thought. Perhaps it preferred water from the well and harder soil. But he waved away her worries and told her that the flower just needed to settle into its rich soil first. It must be the flower's deficiencies in absorption. The next morning, he was frustrated to see that the flower was wilting even further. He hastily threw more spring water onto it and patted down the fine soil. That ought to fix it!

That night, the flower died. The old man stood baffled at the event, but the granddaughter understood.

Tree

You know what I love doing? Watching trees. They're so calming to look upon. Maybe because of their green leaves. No one knows. You know what else is fascinating? The way that they can change through the seasons. I like to look at the tree, especially when there is a light breeze whispering through the gentle leaves. Sometimes I'll close my eyes and just breathe in the wonderment of it. Then one by one the leaves will change colors and the breeze will become more rough. Eventually the leaves will start cascading off the lonely branches. I watch, but there's no point in trying to catch the leaves. They will fall where they will. In the end, the tree stands alone. It looks so weak bending underneath the snow. What will happen?

The obvious answer is that the season will change once again, and the tree will regain its leaves and be as mighty as ever. But how do you know? What's to say that the tree won't snap under the pressure from the snow. What's to say that some beaver won't come along and chew the tree out until it breaks. You don't know. And I don't know.