The Forest That Grew From Love

A camping story for children

 

 

 

"Papa, tell me again how this forest came to be" she asked.

 

"Well Peyton, not all of this story is a happy one, but sit down here beside me and I will begin. A hundred years ago this place was just a field."

 

"Papa!" Gage bellowed. "Don’t start the story without me." He flung himself through the air, landing in his grandpa’s lap. Caleb, two years older than the other two tried to act uninterested but hung on his every word.

 

"Ok, where was I? Oh yeah. Prairie grass, tall and waving in the wind, stood right in the spot we are camping. A river partly circled this spot, forming a horseshoe bend. An Indian tribe lived on either side of this place, but no one lived in the center. In the beginning the two tribes did not trust each other, and this was neutral ground. Now on the East bank lived a Kiowa Tribe and a certain boy named Thundering Bear. On the opposing bank the Choctaw people lived with a little girl named Willow.

 

One day they both wondered to the prairie field. The two became fast friends and met there often. As time went on they fell in love,

and on their seventeenth year by the harvest moon wed. The two tribes were furious but finally the elders gave in and decided to let them live on the prairie meadow that fell between them.

 

They enjoyed many years together. They had two sons and a daughter. They were blessed to see them all wed and the grandchildren that were added to their namesake. Now Willow loved the forest and the songs sang by nature. She especially loved to hear the wind. Many an evening she sat on a large boulder by the river’s edge and listened to the babbling waters and the wind walking through the trees. She never outgrew her love for this place even after years of living kept her from climbing on the boulder.

 

On her seventy-first birthday, just as the sun rose and the wind crept up the prairie side to meet her, she died. Her husband laid her to rest next to the lodge where they spent their lives and at the foot of her grave planted a willow. In hopes that the wind would keep her company. Now as time would have it and before the next full moon he joined her. It was not by chance that the next full moon was the harvest moon, and on that night under the evening stars each member of the family planted either a tree or a flower or bush. Until this great forest in which we sit was formed.

 

 It took only twelve short years to build this forest and on the thirteenth year the family had spread across the country like the wind, that Willow loved. Now each year on the harvest moon Willow’s children’s children take a tree, flower or bush home with them. In tribute to their love.

Author's Note

any comments, welcome

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

' It took only twelve short years to build this forest and on the thirteenth year the family had spread across the country like the wind, that Willow loved. Now each year on the harvest moon Willow’s children’s children take a tree, flower or bush home with them. In tribute to their love.'

What a captivating, magical story for children.. but also, the child in adults too. There should be and always is, if one wants it enough.. a way to choose a path where smiles pat dry our fallen tears.

(( Cherrie ))

[Cherrie]

:) thank you Emma the grandkids really liked this one I'm glad you did as well.

[M. J. Smith]

Native legends... They speak so profoundly. Love the shamanic feel of this one. One can almost see an old dream keeper calling the children together for tribal stories. Well written, Cherrie.

[Cherrie]

The kids use to love when I would add them into a story. I'm glad you enjoyed this one.

[Viki Rachel]

Oh, how sweet! This reminded me of Pocahontas a little, just because of the Native Americans (teehee). This was incredibly cute and it wasn't too long, as we all know little children rarely have the patience to listen to a drawn out story.
Love this. I would read this to a child, if I ever have one.

[Cherrie]

thank you very much I write these for my grandkids, they love them. I must confess I hate to edit, and put it off way to much.

[Samuel Dickens]

Bravo! This is a marvelous story and you've told it so well. I have to tell you that there are certain kinds of tales that march right into my heart and take a seat directly, and this is just such a tale. I can't commend you enough for this outstanding piece of work. (Maybe a wee bit of editing is needed, but not much)

[Maurice]

A very sweet and lovely story.

[Casper Cross]

This is a beautiful. You spin it very well, reminded me of an old book I read when I was in the sixth grade called "Where the Red Fern Grows".

I have only one suggestion. Write about where the father or grandfather tells the story. I like to think that he is sitting on the edge of a log next to a stream. Add that and you add a little more to the story without detracting too much from your main theme.

Lol... so you are the Carrie Underwood of the Writer's Cafe... Love Okie, spent some time there back in 2003 and 2004, wonderful people.