The Hawthorne Tree by Dean F.H. Macy © 1995 Faedra stretched her arms to touch the wall behind her bed. She yawned and sighed happily. It was Saturday, a beautiful Saturday morning. She listened to the house sounds. No one else was up. She turned to the shifting sun shadows on the other wall. "Look. There's a bunny and a crow and, oh, it looks like a baby deer." Faedra studied the patterns a bit longer before she got out of bed. She swept the covers back, slid her feet into her blue bunny slippers and padded off to the bathroom. Hair and teeth brushed and washed up she went to her closet to pick out special clothes, 'cause this was a special day. It was her day to gather the apples from the Hawthorne tree at the top of the hill. "Shall I wear the aqua shorts and white blouse? Hmm. How about the purple jumper and pink shirt? No! White slacks? Green shirt? How about the long green... no! I'll wear the long blue dress with the ruffles at the bottom and the dark blue sash." Satisfied, Faedra removed her nightgown and donned the pretty blue dress. Standing in front of the mirror she smoothed the wrinkles under the sash. A Bobwhite whistled through the open window. "You do like my dress, don't you," she called to the little bird. "I do too. It's my favourite colour. Shall I wear my white bonnet?" she asked the Bobwhite. He whistled his reply. Faydra chose white sandals to complete the outfit. She lightly ran downstairs, through the kitchen and took the basket from the hook over the brick oven. Then, ever so quietly, she opened the door and slipped outside. The sun was higher now and Faedra lifted her face to feel the warm glow on her skin. A light, morning breeze caressed her hair causing some of it to tickle her face. She laughed at the wind as she tucked the ends back where they belonged. After a few moments, Faedra skipped across the meadow toward Hawthorne Hill. As she neared the little pond she heard, "rubber-boot, rubber-boot." Faedra stopped and looked in the direction of the bull-frog's call. There he was, sitting on a large lily-leaf, lazily drinking in the morning sun. "Well, hello Mister frog," Faedra said. "And don't you look dandy this morning. Did you have a pleasant evening? I did." "Rubber-boot," replied the bull-frog. Faedra stared at the frog a moment, her head cocked to one side as if in deep concentration. Then she took a few steps sideways to look at him from a different angle. She thought of her gym teacher; how much he looked like the bull-frog sitting on the leaf. "You know, Mister frog? If you held a soccer ball right now you'd look just like Mister Percy." Faedra imagined the frog with gym shirt and shorts, holding a soccer ball. The image was too, too funny and she burst out laughing. "Rubber-boot?" queried the frog. "Sorry, Mister Percy, I didn't mean to laugh at you-o-o-o..." Faedra started to laugh again. She held her hand to her lips until the laughter stopped. Her eyes were twinkling. "Yes, Mister Percy. We must maintain ourselves. I won't let it happen again. But you look so f-f-f-f..." Gaily laughing again, Faedra ran away from the pond toward the field. "Someday," Faedra thought, "I'll have to tell Mister Percy about the frog. Maybe next year." Faedra looked across the field of wild flowers to the hill beyond. Oft times she gathered flowers for her mother from this field but not this day. This Saturday was her day to pick the fresh, new Hawthorne Apples from the tree at the top of the hill. "Alone!" Faedra said aloud. "I'm old enough to do it myself." The wildflowers nodded their approval as the breeze rippled across the field. Faedra wove across the field of wild flowers, being careful not to step on them. They were so beautiful, she didn't want to hurt any; especially the little ones. Finally she arrived at the base of Hawthorne Hill. She looked up at the lone Hawthorne tree. "Here I come," she said to the tree as she began the short climb. At the top of the hill, Faedra spread her long, blue ruffled dress out and sat down in the clover. She placed her basket alongside and leaned back on her elbows to watch the sky. "How lovely it is," she thought. "And look at all the little clouds. They're soft and fluffy and..." Faedra was startled to hear the far away "rubber-boot" of the frog she left behind. "Oh, dear. It's time for soccer practice and here I am, looking at the sky, wasting time. Please start without me," she called to the unseen frog, and silently giggled. "But he's right," she told the tree. "It is time for me to pick the apples and get back home." Faedra arose and holding her basket firmly under her arm she began removing the ripe, red apples from the tree. Soon her basket was full. It was time to return home. Faedra set her basket on the ground at her feet and moving close to the trunk she peered up into the cool, green leaves of the Hawthorne Tree. Because the leaves were so thick, Faedra could make out shapes within the leaves, similar to the shapes she saw in the clouds. There was a group of them that looked like a bunny complete with long ears and even one which looked vaguely like a very small unicorn. "Hello bunny. Hello unicorn." Faedra said. "I'm sorry I can't stay to talk with you anymore. I have to go home with my apples." "That's all right, Faedra. I understand." Faedra's eyes screwed up, her eyebrows knit together. She whirled around to see who had addressed her, but she was all alone. (snip)

The Hawthore tree is one of the most ugly trees in the world. It's branches are twisted and knarled and the tree at night looks like something unearthly out of a horror movie. But then, for a few months a year, when it blooms and yields the sweet fruit it becomes an extremely beautiful tree, for the large leaves and blossoms hide the ugliness. This is a story about a real little girl who, though she lives in abject poverty in a shack on a muddy lot and has to wear old grain sacks for clothes, sees only the beauty in everything. Although the story printed above is copyrighted, you, the reader, are prohibited from copying and/or publishing it as is, in part, or in electronic form without the written permission of the author. To obtain permission to use the story in whole or in part, please contact me and list your intended use and where I can reach you by phone.

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