An Autumnal story

Home/pagan/An Autumnal story

An Autumnal story

nature.jpgAs promised, although a little late due to lots of fabulous adventures travelling, more of that later, here is another little seasonal story to tickle your senses from my keyboard, I hope you enjoy it.

An Autumnal story

The apple trees bowed their bejewelled crowns, nodding as the man walked through the orchard’s avenues. He drew a deep lungful of the earthy smelling air and knew without a shadow of a doubt that autumn was here. The apple harvest was nearly on them, there was so much work to be done at this time of year bringing in the fruit harvests, soon there would be a veritable hive of activity in this quiet place.

He found his favourite spot, put down his heavy burden and sat down under the ancient apple tree to contemplate the year that had flown by. He looked up at the mistletoe hanging in the branches and mused out loud to the tree about the ancient lore that bound the two symbols of peace and love together.

“Time was when no sword would be drawn under the branch of the mistletoe, no bad word spoken. Mind you the old ideas still linger some how in our bones, we do at least try to have peace and good will under the bowes at Yule these days. And how did the apple so beloved of the Gods become a symbol of evil? Ah yes the miss translation of a word, apple/fruit/evil, no wonder the ancient ones were wary of writing things down. Funny how even though it was a symbol of rebellion and marked as forbidden by God to Adam and Eve, we still grew it and ate it regardless!  Some things just go beyond the bounds of written lore and the truth of the apple is in the eating, so to speak.” he laughed at himself for such a weak word play.

The tree didn’t seem to mind the play of words and dropped an apple into his lap. “Thank you I will take that as a gift of the old ones” he smiled and bit with relish into the fruit.

The flesh was crisp, sharp and juicy and he revelled in the taste and textures that assaulted his tongue.  “Truly a gift of the Gods and one gift deserves another in return!” he exclaimed.

The sun was dropping lower in the sky and the shadows started to lengthen, the man finished his apple then turned to the large bundle he had placed on the ground beside the tree and began to unwrap it. He loosened the ties and pulled aside the thick covering, cooing gently to what lay inside.

The sun shone a beam of light through the lower branches of the trees and lit up the carving on the harp, a slight breeze plucked at the strings and they made a faye song in the air beneath the canopy.

The harper sighed and pulled the harp closer to him, ran his fingers lightly up and down the taught strings checking the sound, before he committed his fingers to finding the tune that lay hidden within the orchard.

The first strings were plucked with a searching, a questioning hesitation, looking to find the harmony of time and place. He hummed softly as he plucked at the strings of the harp, looking up into the tree canopy, following the branches reaching out to the sky above, reaching out with his heart and mind, he followed the roots deep into the soil.

He drifted with the breeze that sent the green and red jewels bobbing and swaying above his head and in the creaking of the bowes, he began to hear the song of the orchard. The resonance and the melody found the fingers and spoke to the soul of the man, he was transformed and transported across time and memory.

From ancient forests of central Asia, the trees had travelled and grown along side man, they had become a treasured and guarded prize, the food of immortality for many Gods, a symbol of love, magic and healing for all.

In the song of the orchard the tale of the apple was unfolded to the bard as he played and sang in the dwindling light of autumn. The smell of the forests, the heat of the sun and the march across continents, time and space, all the memories of the trees came to speak through that melody. He sang the tales of Idun and Aphrodite, the Golden Apples of the Hesperides, the Silver Branch of the Faye, the Isle of Avalon, all the tales of magic and mystery held within the healing fruit fell from the lips and strings of the enraptured bard.

And, when the song was sung, the last notes fading from air ladened with the rich, earthy autumnal atmosphere, it seemed that a collective sigh was released from every tree. The bard sat in silent revelry for a while letting the breeze play over the harp strings. He watched as the last of the suns rays pierced the branches intensifying the dancing shadows of the tree’s leaves on the grass all around him.

Then as if to confirm the end of the song and the end of summer, cascades of brown and yellow leaves leapt from the branches, like so many acrobats in a circus finally, tumbling in graceful, gliding motions toward the floor to be caught by the green arms of the dampening grass, their life energy spent, their dance was done.

The bard stood and bowed to the orchard, then he wrapped up the harp and heaved it onto his shoulders, then humming the melody he had been given, he walked slowly along the leaf speckled avenues back toward the farm house.

Cerri Lee 2013

By | 2016-10-19T12:56:29+00:00 October 6th, 2013|pagan|14 Comments

About the Author:

14 Comments

  1. Bronzewing October 7, 2013 at 11:07 am - Reply

    Lovely!

  2. Linda Newman October 7, 2013 at 11:33 am - Reply

    Beautiful Cerri. Our friends have just given us 2 large buckets of apples from their trees and I will visualize your story and try to hear the song as I prepare them in various ways. Thank you.

  3. Marcus Rodriguez October 7, 2013 at 1:16 pm - Reply

    A beautiful piece, redolent with the spirit of Autumn. Thank you.

  4. Deb Shaw October 7, 2013 at 2:03 pm - Reply

    This is so beautiful! As an Autumn child, myself, I love this time of year. The close of the seasons, the drawing in, the gathering ’round the kitchen table. And your story is the perfect thing to read, when the kids and my mum are making gingerbread cookies next month. Thank you, so very much!

  5. Linda M October 7, 2013 at 4:11 pm - Reply

    So very very beautiful. Dahm the Bard shared it with me. I’m so glad he did.

  6. Donna staines October 7, 2013 at 4:31 pm - Reply

    A wonderful tale of autumnal blessings and nostalgia Cerri. Your writing is beautifully descriptive and put me there, right under that apple tree. Thank you for sharing.

  7. Claire jones October 7, 2013 at 4:58 pm - Reply

    This lovely cerrii, I could almost smell the orchard myself!

  8. Suzanne Thomas October 7, 2013 at 4:59 pm - Reply

    Fabulous Ceri, I can smell the apples and feel the autumn breeze xx

  9. Julia Weaver October 7, 2013 at 5:54 pm - Reply

    Ceri you are quite talented. Not only do you understand the magic of clay, you are becoming adept with the magic of words as well. I was drawn into the tale and I could see the apples sparkling in the sun. My only complaint is I didn’t want the story to end. Thank you so much for sharing this!

  10. Sally Broughton October 7, 2013 at 9:13 pm - Reply

    Cerri, that was just lovely, I hope to read lots more from your pen in the future – Love and Hugs xxxxxxxxxxx

  11. Kathy October 7, 2013 at 10:50 pm - Reply

    Cerri, that was lovely, thank you. I do believe you could conjure up some wonderful novels. I would love to read a series by you, that’s for sure.

  12. Raven De Bonaire October 7, 2013 at 11:13 pm - Reply

    Absolutely wonderful! For a short time I was transported to the orchard with its wondrous sights & sounds
    Thank you Cerri 🙂

  13. Peter Smith October 8, 2013 at 9:49 pm - Reply

    Just read this on Daves website – absolutely beautiful evocation of the season

  14. Max Hale October 8, 2013 at 11:11 pm - Reply

    Wonderful Cerri, Jan and I were sat late eveing on the sofa and this lulled us into a perfect peace as we retire for the night. Thank you BB x

Leave A Comment