There is a tale dating back to the time of Adam and Eve. It’s not one you'll find in the Bible, but the Philistines spoke the tale for generations how, on a warm spring day a green leaf would turn red as apples which told the various tribes the summer would be extremely hot.

As centuries passed, this tale was told in a separate way by the Greeks that if you witnessed a leaf turning orange to almost a rusty gold color; someone close in your family would die before the first flakes of winter hit the ground.

Many tales, or myths, were told even by the Chinese that if you saw a leaf change to any color, it would bring prosperity to your family, but if the leaf turned red, devastation would befall a neighbor.

Perhaps, the best myth I have ever heard came from an old man on a street corner, panhandling for whatever he could get. He said, “Ya wanna know something, mister?”

“What,” said I.

“For a dollar, I have something good to tell you.”

I smiled, figuring this was his way to make a quick dollar and had nothing of import to make me go, ‘wow, simply amazing’ and then I would walk away knowing he just made a buck on something that wasn’t true.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me.”

He bent over and picked up a small box and opened it.

“You see this here leaf? It’s green, ain’t it?”

I nodded.

“Well, mister, I’ve had this leaf with me for more’n three-hundred years and it’s never changed color, and truth is, I’ll never die. This here leaf is my good luck charm and even though I look poor and a mess to most folks, I’m the luckiest person on the planet. I’ve seen and done things that would make your hair stand on end. And you want to know where I found it?”

I smiled. “Where?”

“Found it where the Garden of Eden is where. And the funny part was it was the only leaf on this here one tree. What’s even more interesting is, I heard a voice whispering inside my head that said, go on, take it, you’ll live forever. It was the voice of Jesus.”

Well, I gave the old man his dollar and walked away. Helluva story. No one lives forever, right? Just another twist on the fountain of youth myth. Another story that belongs in a creepy movie. Just then, he ran up, grabbed my arm, and spun me around.

You don’t believe me, do you? DO YOU! I’ll tell you what then. Come back to this same spot twenty years from now and I’ll prove it to you."

And this is where this ends because twenty years later I did exactly that. He wasn’t there. I knew all along he wouldn’t be, but I came regardless. Call it curiosity, or a small part of me wanted to believe the old man would be there.

Just one odd thing though. The box was there on the cement sidewalk with a green leaf inside.

Mother told me it was just a fright. But the old woman that came to me that night told me words I would never forget. She said that she speaks with the earth sprites and that my name came from their lips. They had chosen me as sacrifice, a fate I would not escape, try as I might. I had made them angry by sharing my luminescence and giving life to that which they did not want in existence. I knew she was speaking of the shadows and feared for a moment that they'd make me into gallows. She assured me that would not be the case but for my contravention a price must be paid. It was decided then that when the sun fell the next night my essence would drain from sight. What was once a vibrate green the shadows would no longer be able to see. Only once the shadows all perished would my presence be allowed without forbearance. As the sun fell the next day my life force left me as I heard the shadows writhe in pain. They were made to suffer but I was to blame and so I dropped my cover and laid myself bare in shame. This was not enough however, and so to remind me of this lesson each year I must relive my transgression.

The leaves

know

they must go

that their time

has come

to an end

to fiery death

as one compressed

and they blush

while Life

is drained

from the face...

from the dry wrinkled

stem and veins

that in old age

still caress

the sodden

surface

of the Earth

for final place

of rest...

to compost

with the

colors in the

underworld,

of the Universe.

03.21.2023

Myth leaves-color challenge @Ola_8

In a time

Long ago

When the mountain snows

First blushed

Under the kiss

Of Father sky

When the raging rivers

Were still but babbling brooks

Singing sweetly to the stone

There was only one forest

One great wood

Under the mountain

And it was green

It breathed in

It breathed out

Sweet, warm, comforting

Like the breath of a lover

And it's lover

Was Father sky

Who's heat

Made the trees of the forest

Tremble

Twist and turn

Reaching for his warmth

The Great forest unfurled her leaves

Birthed of the loving light

That Father sky had given her

But one day

Father sky was different

He gave less of his warmth

He gave less of his light

He gave less, of his love

But the Great forest was ok

She knew Father sky still loved her

So her leaves still breathed

And the forest was green

But the next day

Father sky gave even less

And the great forest, began to wonder...

If he truly loved her

But the warmth was still good

The light was still strong

So the Great forest breathed

And the forest was green

But, every day

Father sky gave less and less

Until one day it began to feel cold

In the absence of his love

And the Great forest knew

That Father sky loved her no more

She became angry...

Her leaves turning from green....to red

In anger, she withheld her breath

But soon, her anger dissolved

Into an unbearable sorrow

And all the leaves of the Great forest

Withered, died...and fell

As she wept for her lost love.

There was once a boy named Gavisti, who was hot headed but brave.

He had a sister named Prajña, who was wise and cunning.

One day their land went to war with the Yamāntaka. They fought on and on for years. Gavisti would lead their troops into battle, and Prajña would plan their next move.

One day Gavisti fell to the one of the Yamāntaka's blades. It was a silent death, one with no goodbye, for he didn't believe Yamāntaka could kill him.

Prajña was full of great sorrow and refused to play at war until her brother could somehow say goodbye.

The great Goddess Sok took pity on the girl and caused all the leaves to fall and change color. When Prajña noticed the lively leaves turn away from their green color, then fall to the earth, she questioned the gods, and if they were punishing her for not continuing the fight.

Sok came and told her that it was only what she wished. He brother would come back as the green leaves. And every six months would say his goodbye again when the leaves fell.

With thing knowledge Prajña's will for the war returned, and eventually her people won against the Yamāntaka. Then the leaves came back.

Six months later they fell again.

The Leaves are a beautiful species that many overlook. The Leaves live in the trees, watching the world change before their very eyes. The Leaves are social creatures, and loved to mimic nature. Their soft skin allows them to absorb the colors of their surroundings.

In the spring, they would take on the bright yellows and oranges of the rising sun. In the summer, they would become the shades of green from the thriving plants. In the autumn, they would turn into the browns of the resting trees.

But in winter, they would freeze. Such fragile beauty could not handle the harsh snow, and so they allowed themselves to fall from the trees and start anew.

There was a time in a village unnamed when a witch came 'round each and every year on the eve of a dying summer and would appear with word of a new yearly curse. Given no exact date each year as far as could be told, the townspeople panicked as the summer winded down, and the town's farmers worried year after year over their harvest, for the witch possessed the power to ruin all the fields in their crops, or so was said.

In years previous, the witch had come and had turned the ground to sand; she had moved every tree 5 feet to the left, leaving many houses in ruin, and in the year before present, she had wished away the town's spoons. The only good bit of news involving her soon return was the fact that she reversed each prior wish when she came. She had turned the ground back to the way it had been before the sand, she had moved the trees back 5 feet to the right, and soon, she would bring back their spoons. To the children, the witch meant good news; they could eat cereal once again.

The day began swiftly as the colder temperatures began to kick in. Harvest season kicked off in a rigorous succession of the summer, and the witch arrived much the same. No one saw her come into town, though some speculated that she lived underground in an undisclosed location, and some claimed to have spotted her when in reality, they had seen some form of harmless animal on the village’s outskirts. She was an unkempt witch, with dark frizzled hair that appeared fried running down to her stomach and wearing all red. With a red hat on the top of her head, a red coat, tattered red pants, and an absence of shoes on her feet, she reeked of petulance.

The witch’s face was composed of much the same absurdity as her outfit. Eyes of slightly differing sizes (her left eye slightly smaller than her right, her left being orange in hue and her right eye blue), a nose that only barely ran with snot, cheeks that harbored moles, warts, and dirt, and a smile missing all but five teeth. Two on the top and three on the bottom. Unsettling, unsettled.

She had come, as she had years before, to the town square, an area of the road next to which an old-timey bar and a children’s playground were situated, and she yelled at the top of her lungs to alert the people that she had come and that they better arrive. It was believed that the more people present for her yearly wish made her kinder due to a greater amount of attention, and so when that scream came, everyone knew that they were to show up; drop what you’re doing, and come to the town square. She’s back.

Within five minutes, the entirety of the town’s population had shown up, which wasn’t much considering it was a village of only about two hundred-and-fifty, but it was all that could attend. The witch seemed satisfied with the turnout.

“All here?” she asked in a shriveled tone that must’ve smelled putrid up close. The villagers looked around and nodded their heads. Some of the children that had come began to cry; the witch paid no attention to these kids, and their parents shut them up by using their hands to cover up their mouths.

“You all know what happens next,” said the witch. She looked out to the children after their tears had halted, and aloud she said, “I wish for the villager's spoons to be returned to them.” Though nothing flickered or changed to the seeable eye, the people knew that when they returned home, there would be spoons right back to where they had been a year before, in cupboards, in shops, and most importantly, soon in the hands of the children. But this wish was merely one of two, and the villagers were plagued with quick flushes of anxiety.

“Okay,” she heaved. “Now, it is time. You all are to respect my wish and abide by it, and anyone seen attempting to reverse my curse shall be met with an even worse sentence. Is all understood?” The shivering townspeople nodded their heads, some saying “yes” as the question was asked.

“I wish..” spoke the witch, and the villagers held their breath in worried anticipation, “for the leaves to turn red during the harvest season as a reminder of my power.” The farmers clutched their hats, put their other hand in their pockets, and gulped down; worrying news.

Suddenly, the leaves around the villagers began to change. They turned an orange color immediately, some straight to red. It almost appeared as if the witch had done the spell wrong due to the variety of colors laid out around the town, but she seemed satisfied with the look of the newly colored leaves.

“The leaves will then turn back after the harvest season and the winter ends. I choose to be light this year and watch the pretty leaves; next year will be much, much worse.”

With these words, the witch turned around and walked off down the road past the old-timey bar and soon out of sight. But as she left, the voice of a child, whose mouth had become unbound, rang out, “I wish she could go away and never come back!”

Suddenly, though far away, it became noticeable that the witch had been lifted into the air by some unique force, and before they knew it, she had disappeared. Her frizzled hair, her hat, her pants, her diseased feet, all gone into the air before the men, women, and children, and in a flurry, the conclusion beset them all.

The witch wasn’t all-powerful like they had thought originally; this day of the calendar, or perhaps this time of the year, harbored some magic it seemed when anyone who had discovered the correct time frame could make a wish! A wish that could come true. And what the villagers found when the witch had been cast away was that the leaves she left were beautiful, and reflected well the feel the autumn gave to the farmers and the children.

The villagers decided to keep the leaves.

The decision was not a tedious one and began with a farmer, one who had but until that moment been utterly afraid, muttered under his breath, “my, I wish the leaves changed to be this color every year.” And some force did it for him, and for everyone else but couldn’t help but fall in love.

The years went by in annual succession, and every fall, the leaves turned red, as the farmer had wished. The witch remained wherever she had been cast, and though the villagers remained rather conservative in their wishes, some were able to get their way and make the most out of once was the worst time of year. The leaves were a reminder of a horrible curse, but as that farmer saw it, the leaves were leaves, and they were, like all the people of the town, absolutely beautiful.

Ahh yes. Leaves. They are a very delicate natural condition aren’t they?

Did you know that leaves didn’t always change their color?

When I was very young and the world was new, the trees all had the same green color of leaves all the year long.

Each tree had different shapes and sizes of leaves, but the colors always stayed green.

One day a great argument arose as to which species of tree were the most beautiful. The Great Oak said it was the most beautiful because it’s leaves were shaped differently than the Elm and the Alders. Then the Birch spoke up and said it had the most spectacular trunks! Then the Redwoods and Sequoias spoke up saying they were the most beautiful because they were taller and stronger than everyone else.

The arguments got so loud that even the birds couldn’t be heard over their bickering.

So to put an end to all the arguments, Mother Nature called a meeting and told everyone who bore leaves that at the end of summer, during the Autumnal Equinox, she would hold a beauty pageant for all leaf bearing beauties just before the Winter Solstice when everyone takes a long winter nap.

Everyone was encouraged to color their leaves in bright cheerful colors or colors they thought would look good against their trunks.

The winner with the best colored leaves would be announced in spring during Beltane, and would be crowned king or queen for the year.

Well this was such a great idea that all the arguments stopped and everyone concentrated on putting on their best colors!

So that’s why the leaves change every autumn and the way it’s always been from the time I was very young and the world was new.