As Great Aunt Nature Walker turned the page, the autumn birch forest that had risen up out of her big green book fluttered away like leaves in a fall wind. The Magical Story Room no longer felt magical but was filled instead with the restless air of those two large and unanswered questions:
And just how did Adora Birch end up in that door?
Lucy was distracted from her reflection on these solemn matters when Hannah burst into tears. "Dora seed gone," whimpered the two-year-old.
"It's only a story," Lucy was saying in an effort to console her sister when suddenly —the air in the Magical Story Room fluttered and then in a flash of sunlight opened up into a wide meadow full of sun, birdsong, and the sweet breezy fragrances of a warm fall day. The Nature Walkers were now sitting on the soft meadow grass.
“Woooo-hoooo!" came the sound of a merry voice from up high. And who should swirl down on a ruffle of air but—
"Dora seed!" exclaimed Hannah.
"None other," replied the tiny winged fairy seed as it came to rest on the corner of Great Aunt Nature Walker's big green book.
“And so, my young Nature Walkers,” the little seed inquired of Lucy and Hannah, “are you ready for the magical journey through my very long and true story?”
"Dora story!" exclaimed Hannah as she jumped up and began twirling and swirling, dipping and flitting with the breezy way of the little seed.
Tempted as Lucy was to join in the swirly twirl, she sat in the quiet and attentive manner of a five-year-old setting a good story-time example for her rambunctious sister.
Hannah dropped down beside Lucy, fluffed out her pink dress like a flower, and folded her hands.
“Now, then,” began the little fairy seed, “All very long and true journeys are easier if you have someone to direct you. And so I have arranged for a very excellent guide.”
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| The Great PoetTree |
As the little seed spoke, a very old tree rose up before them—a tree so old that its bark had gone all gray and craggy. A
huge yawning hole in its trunk was filled with darkness instead of wood. Hannah curled in close to Lucy.
A ruffle of air lifted the little seed up off the corner of Great Aunt Nature Walker's big green book, and a ghostly sound—was it a voice?— shivered across Lucy and Hannah. ”Aaaaddddooooraah Birrrrrch . . . Aaaaddddoooora Birrrrrch . . . issss thaaaaat yooooou?"
Now Lucy herself was alarmed until she realized that the windy old sound was nothing more than a tall breeze rustling the leaves of the old tree.
Except there it was again: “Aaaaddddoooora Birrrrrch . . . issss thaaaaat yooooou?"
And now there was no breeze. Oh but, of course, Lucy thought, it’s just Aunt Nature Walker's very excellent story voice stirring up the breezy feeling of an afternoon in a big country meadow. But then the windy old voice drifted across Lucy and Hannah like ghost fingers—and Great Aunt Nature Walker’s lips weren’t moving. “Aaaaddddooooraah Birrrrrch . . issss thaaaaat yooooou?”
Lucy was about to grab Hannah and run when the little fairy seed winged itself up in the direction of the old tree. ”Oh yes, Oh yes, my Great PoetTree,” cried the little seed, “it is I—your own Adora Birch.”
“Aaahhhh,” sighed the old windy voice. And as the branches of the big tree swayed and creaked, the ghostly voice continued, long and slow and full of air: “A need is a seed awaiting its tree.”
“Indeed, it is so, Great PoetTree!” exclaimed the tiny winged seed, “And this is why I have brought my new Nature Walker friends here that you may guide us on the very long and true journey of how I ended up in a door.
The branches of the old tree creaked. As Hannah curled in closer to her sister, Lucy wondered if she should just grab her sister and run. But then she decided to hold tight, for she really did want an answer as to how Adora Birch ended up in that door. Besides, strange as the old tree was, it seemed too creaky to do any harm.
“Aaahhhh,” the old windy voice sighed and after a waft and a whiff and wheeze full of leaves, drifted on mysterious as fog:
“Slam a door and you close a tree
Open a door and you know how a tree loves.”
“Oh, yes, Great PoetTree,” exclaimed the little seed, “no truer words were ever spoken.”
No truer words? To Lucy, the windy words were so foggy in their meaning that she wondered if the old tree had spent too much time breathing in clouds.
Hannah, however, had suddenly been struck quite silly by the Great PoetTree and was now waving her arms like tired old branches while singing in her most ridiculous ghostly voice. "Open Dora Tree, Close Dora Tree, Open Dora Tree, Close Dora Tree . . ."
Lucy tried not to laugh, for making fun of anyone, even a poor old tree, was unkind.
But when Hannah got so dizzy that she fell over, Lucy had to hold her face stiff as cement and listen hard in an effort to keep from going completely silly herself.
In an effort to return to matter at hand, Lucy asked the fairy seed, “When are we going to start on our journey of how you ended up in a door?”
“Well,” said the tiny winged seed, “It’s always best to start at the beginning. And for a door like mine, you need a strong forest with very excellent trees. Trees started growing out of the Earth into into forests about 400 million years ago. This, then, is where we must begin.”
Lucy had recently learned to count and had gotten past 400 to 4,000. But 400 million. “How many zeros would that be?”
The little seed flitted about and using wisps of imagination, drew the number 400 million in the air.
A 4 with eight zeros added on! Nine numbers in all!
Lucy’s eyes bugged out of her head.
Now wait a moment, she thought, recalling how long a year took between her five birthdays. 400 Million years did not seem possible. Lucy began to wonder. Could a tiny fairy seed, charming as it was, be trusted with complicated matters such as counting? Well, her father worked as a mathematician, and she would certainly be checking out this number with him.
Meanwhile, Lucy thought of a way to test the little seed. “Do trees grow up to be 400 million years old?” she asked.
“Oh my, no,” replied the fairy seed. “Trees have come and gone over the years. While they are living, they make seeds that drop to the ground or get blown away so they can find a place where they can grow up to become young trees. Young trees are like young people. They like to change. Forests today are not what they used to be.”
“What did they used to look like?” Lucy asked.
“Adora story too long,” complained Hannah who was rarely interested in particulars.
“I quite agree,” concurred the little seed, which is why the Great PoetTree and I have arranged for all 400 Million years worth of trees to find their way into one.”
“Aaaahhh,” sighed the windy old tree, “a tree is a seed with all of its history inside.”
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| 400 Million-Year-Old Forest |
The Great PoetTree got all pixelated and fluttery and then went hazy around its big yawning darkness. And in that darkness there appeared a strange looking forest—place that Lucy determined was one of those once-upon-a-time make-believe forests. “Bad witch?” Hannah asked, snuggling close to Lucy.
“Oh, no,” the little seed reassured her. “You will find no witches here. This was what forests looked like 400 million years ago. There were not yet any people—so no reason for the fairies to make up their tales.”
The forest was very quiet without people bustling around with all their cars and phones, supermarkets and malls.
“No fun,” complained Hannah.
“Ineed!” agreed the fairy seed. “Which is why it is time to move on in our very long and true journey.”
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| 400 Million-Year-Old Forest Swirling Up to Now |
And with that, the 400 million-year-old forest went zooming up and around, inside and out, turning all watery and rocky,
Lucy and Hannah sat mesmerized—as over it all hung those two nagging and impossible questions:
How you get a door out of a teeny tiny winged fairy seed
And how Adora Birch ended up in that door?
And barely breathing, the sisters sat tight as Great Aunt Nature Walker turned to the next page of The Very Long and True Story of Adora Birch.
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