A WINTER’S TALE.

Long, long ago there sat a village kingdom high in the mountains, nearer so it seemed to the gods, and which certainly had a feeling of being  “heaven on earth.”  Or so it felt to the local residents, who sometimes whispered that their tiny village was indeed, “the spiritual center of the universe”.  And it became known as truth that some residents were indeed higher than others, for the land flowed with mead and many various flavors of the nectar of the gods, as well as a pipe filled with local and imported greenery, which was also revered highly by most of the grateful inhabitants. As the deep snows of winter set in, the residents gathered in their halls of worship, huddled together for warmth and companionship, and partook heartily of their sacred substance of choice.

In this village lived two fair maidens who brought joy to those around them.  They, being short of monetary treasures, were long indeed on wit, creativity, flair and beauty.  It came to pass that one of the fair maidens had received a large quantity of the imported greenery in exchange for a favor that she had rendered to another. She had indeed hoped to be paid in tokens that could be exchanged easily for her honey mead of choice, and was quite sorrowful for a time as she sat with her friend and separated seeds from stems of the low quality barter. What to do? But slowly an idea began to take shape and the maidens eagerly embraced it and discussed in great lengths how they could turn this vision, which now resided only in their in enthusiasm, into a reality. It would take every penny they had between them, but vowed to one another to accept this challenge and swore one another to secrecy, until such time as it came to pass.

They separated and began their quest to secure many different ingredients, requiring mountains of  flour and butter, a whole basket of eggs  and large measures of nuts and candied fruits. And the day arrived when they secured themselves behind locked doors, surrounded by their varied acquisitions and set to task. They laughed and sang loudly as they rolled up their sleeves, pulled out their largest cauldrons and plunged their bare arms into the forming dough ~ it was a glorious sight to behold.  At the end of the day, they wiped the sweat from their brows and sat back and marveled at their creations.  

There sat seven loaves, beautifully baked to perfection, weighing thrice over what they appeared. They were in uncharted territory now and had no elder to guide them on the next step of their journey. They appraised the recently laundered cotton sheet and measured again the seven loaves. Sacrificing the sheet to this creation was another measure of their unfailing commitment to their quest, for sheets of such good structure were a prized possession of the young maidens.  Reverently they dipped the torn cotton into a bowl filled with the best brandy they could acquire and wrapped tightly the loaves ~ imbuing each with love and good tidings.  

For seven nights, the two maidens would gather and bring out the loaves from their hiding place. For indeed, word of the wondrous creations had seeped into the villagers imagination, and were whispered about in the halls of worship.  Night after night the giddy maidens stole away from the communion hall, filled the bowl with brandy, re-soaked the sheet fragments and re-wrapped the heavy loaves. It was a labor of love and the maidens became quite attached to the seven swaddlings.  Alas, one night, upon retrieving the loaves from their sacred hiding place, they found one missing and they mourned the loss.

The time came to pass to share their handiwork with their friends and family. Many who had long scoffed at the idea of fruit cake, stood in line to receive their portion of the maidens delicacy for it was known to all that these loaves alone contained the sacred greenery. And every villager knows that even that greenery which does not produce the desired affect when smoked in the pipe, becomes a powerful intoxicant when baked or cooked. And the mind blowing effect of the magic fruit cakes were soon known to all with the curiosity to take them in.

And many a glass was raised that holiday to toast the ingenuity of the two maidens. And many were the invitations they received to share in the holiday festivities of their beloved neighbors.  It was a winter to be remembered, but never repeated.

And so ends this tiny tale with these words of advice.       Pure Love and Joy are free dear friends.     Imagination is your goddess given right ~ partake and be of good cheer.

Merry Christmas and green blessing to you all, each and every one, and to your friends and family, and their friends and family, and so on.

<< And, oh yea who so stealthily stole the seventh loaf, you are forgiven, but the maidens would love to hear your side of this winter’s tale. >>