Mama Maple
by Dale Haas
It was October.
Mama Maple raised her branches to the sky and felt the first cool breezes. She looked down and whispered to Baby, “My Dear One, soon we will sleep.”
“Why, Mother?” the Baby wondered. She had already forgotten. But Mama remembered.
“My Dear One, the Father of Light will soon take the sun to far off places, where other children can drink it in. He asks us to rest as we wait for it to return.”
“But what will the squirrels that enjoy your branches do? And where will the robins that live in your boughs go?” asked the Baby. She loved to watch the squirrels and robins dance through her mother’s limbs, and she longed for the day when she too could feel them tickle her trunk.
A gentle breeze helped Mama Maple’s leaves hug the Baby as she whispered, “They too will sleep. But the Father of Light will also take care of them.”
As night fell on the meadow, the Baby wondered how she would know when to go to sleep. But when the sun came up the next morning so much farther down the hill than usual, she noticed a strange heaviness in her branches. As she looked down, she noticed that just a few of her tender leaves had grown golden from the night.
“Mother, why do my leaves grow golden?” she asked. As she looked up, she noticed that ever so many of Mama Maple’s leaves had burst into fiery orange.
Mama Maple swayed in the chilly morning breeze and breathed, “My Dear One, it is so that we may praise the Father of Light for His awesome beauty and thank Him for His gentle care.”
This warmed the Baby’s heart, and she raised her branches to the sky so that the cool wind could paint her leaves crimson.
After a few days, both Mama and Baby had seen their leaves turn from orange to red to brown, and Mama began to let a few of her dry leaves fall to the meadow floor. Baby asked, “Mother, why must we sprinkle our leaves on the ground?”
“To feed the soil, my Dear One," Mama replied. “The Father of Light has given us many gifts, and we must now be selfish with them.
“Will they help the squirrels and robins, Mother?” the Baby asked.
“Oh, most certainly!” Mama sang as she grabbed a passing wind like a sail and flung a shower of leaves across the meadow.
“This is fun, Mother!” the Baby shouted as she too let go a branchful of leaves.
Not many nights later, the Baby felt a strange tickle come over her whole body, and as the sun came up that morning (much much farther down the hill) she noticed a thin sheet of white covering over her from root to tip. It hugged her like a satiny blanket, all cozy and snug. She said, “Mother, why am I covered with this heavy blanket that weighs down my branches?”
“The Father of Light has sent it to protect us while we sleep, my Dear One,” Mama Maple sighed a deep sigh that lasted all day, and it sounded like a lullaby to the Baby.
Just as the sun was setting, both Mama and the Baby were almost asleep. Baby whispered to Mama, “Will the sun come back in the morning?”
Mama looked down at Baby and smiled. “The Father of Light has promised it.” And she closed her eyes.
And Baby drifted off to sleep, dreaming of squirrels and robins.
Copyright 1997 Dale Haas