Janda looked out the window. Steam rose from her favorite butterfly mug as the half moon illuminated clusters of pale pink blossoms on the old apple tree in her front yard.
On this particular March night, an unseasonably strong foehn blew down the normally calm mountain side and caused quite a stir in the quaint mining village. Shutters slammed against the sides of houses, leaves and leaflets glided through the air, and dogs barked with protective panic. Even the rooster that lived at the end of Main Street managed to get an alarmed call out before his owner tossed him back into the barn.
The 10-year-old had a stomach ache. She and her mother had already been up half the night trying to find relief for the girl’s pain. Her mom was dozing within earshot on the sofa, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before leaving for work early in the morning. Janda was perched at the bay window with a cup of fennel tea, awake and feeling a little sorry for herself. But not too sorry. She didn’t like having an upset stomach, but she did like staying up late.
Janda was watching the windy madness from her safe spot in the house. Despite her sore tummy, she couldn’t help but feel excited by this rare windstorm. She enjoyed watching the flowers and grass dance in the moonlight. The girl giggled with delight as the neighbors’ calico cat Lucy triumphed in maintaining her balance while trotting along the tall wooden fence, chasing runaway leaves.
A sudden gust lifted the branches of the old apple tree into the air, and violently whipped them back and forth. In a split second tens of thousands of petals that had just before been attached to the delicate apple blossoms shot into the air. A flurry of flowers fell gently to the ground like light, fluffy snow. Janda’s eyes were wide with wonder at the ethereal scene. She screamed for her mother, who shot up off the couch and ran over to see what was the matter.
“Mamma, mamma, It’s sparkling! It looks like fairy dust!”
“My goodness Janda, is that it? I thought something was wrong. Sweetheart, it’s ok if you’re awake, but please, I need to sleep. Only get me up if it’s an emergency.”
“Ok mamma. But doesn’t it look like fairy dust?
Her mother, smiling and drowsy, cradled Janda’s head against her chest.
“Yes honey, it sure does.”
The wind had died down to a gentle breeze, lazily blowing petals back and forth across the grass. It was really late and sleep was threatening to replace the excitement of the night's events. Just as Janda was starting to nod off, she caught a curious sight out of the corner of her eye. A little old woman in a pale pink dress was crouched down in the garden, scooping the fallen flower petals into her crisp white apron. Her long, silver hair was shimmering in the moonlight. Startled by the stranger, Janda thought about calling for her mom again, but decided against it since the woman didn’t seem to be a threat and her mom did say “emergency only.”
The shimmering old lady was working quickly, scooping and dumping, scooping and dumping. A light seemed to glow in the her palms as soon as she had a handful of flowers. At first, Janda thought it must be the flame of a candle flickering in the breeze. After watching for a minute or two, she realized that the woman was using both hands to scoop, which meant she couldn’t be holding a candle.
Determined to figure out where the glow was coming from, the girl pressed her face against the window, straining to see more. The old woman didn’t seem to have any light with her at all. Instead, she herself was glowing, emitting a gentle, sparkly-silver light from around her body that intensified when she picked up the petals.
Janda decided she wasn’t feeling sick anymore. She quietly placed her tea down on the window sill, silently slipped past her sleeping mother, and crept out the door into the front yard. She tip-toed around the yellow roses and squeezed herself between two towering purple rhododendron bushes about 15 feet away from the old woman.
The girl watched as the glowing elder scooped handful after handful of pinkish-white blossoms into the big pocket at the front of her apron. From this angle, Janda could see that as the petals fell from the woman's hands, they shimmered with the same sparkling silver glow as the woman herself. This must be the source of the curious light she saw from inside the house. Janda stood there, motionless and in awe.
“If you want to know what I’m doing, just ask.”
The girl froze for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to talk with the strange lady in her garden. The old woman’s back was facing her and Janda didn’t really understand how the woman saw her in the first place. “Well come on then. I’m not going to hurt you, darling. In fact, come over here and help me. There are so many flowers and I don’t have much time. I could use an extra pair of hands.”
“Hey, how did you see me? I was so quiet.”
The old woman chuckled.
“I heard the roses whispering to each other about it being past your bedtime. They were surprised you were outside at this hour.”
“You mean the flowers know me?”
“Do you know the flowers?”
Janda pondered the question for a moment.
“Well, I smell them every day and they are my favorite yellow color. I help momma prune the old ones and the new ones always have red around the edges of their petals, but that goes away when they open up. Sometimes when I get home from school, I read them my favorite book. It’s about a boy who starts a circus with three of his animal friends.”
“You seem to care for your roses very much. I’m sure they enjoy hearing your favorite book as well. If you know those vibrant yellow flowers so well, doesn’t it make sense that they might know you, too?”
“I never thought of that, but yes. I guess they must know me since I spend so much time with them. I like the idea of being friends with the roses.
Janda paused, thinking about the roses before remembering the whimsical woman was still kneeling a few steps away.
"What are you doing with the apple blossoms?”
“Come take a look, it’s a beautiful sight to behold.”
The girl walked over to the old woman and crouched down beside her. She peeked into the apron and saw what seemed like a million galaxies spinning around in harmonious spirals.
“Are those the apple blossoms? How are they lighting up like that?”
“They were the blossoms, yes. But now they’re stars. Grab a handful and you’ll see what happens.”
Janda reached down and secured two fistfuls of small, pink petals. They were soft and so light it almost felt as if she wasn’t holding anything at all. As she slowly brought the flowers up toward her face, the velvety buds began to glow and gently vibrate. It tickled her palms and she giggled quietly to herself. In her small, cupped hands, she held a mass of silver, sparkly apple blossoms. Janda sniffed the flowers to see if she could still smell spring.
“Eww it smells sour.”
The old woman chuckled. “Yes, you’re smelling the destiny a few of those blossoms had of becoming vinegar this summer. Take another handful, what do you smell?”
The girl grabbed another handful and took a big whiff.
“Wow! I smell candy and… furniture polish?”
The glowing woman let out a hearty laugh, amused by the girl’s discovery.
“Well yes, some of those blossoms would most likely have become candied-apples, and one had a strong chance of becoming an apple whose seed would have become a tree that would have become a beautiful table about 30 years from now.”
“You can smell the future in the flower petals? How is that possible?” Janda sat back on her heels, trying to understand.
“You see flowers, but they are so much more than that. These petals are also the apples, the seeds, the pollen, the trees, and even the pies and ciders you enjoy in the winter. In each petal lives every possible destiny for every part of the apple tree. The future of some of those blossoms was more set than others, and this is what you’re sensing.
If you open your imagination, you can perceive destiny in many ways. As you just experienced, you can smell the different futures. You can also taste, feel, hear, see, or even simply know them. The potential future of many of the blossoms hadn’t yet synchronized with a certain path. They still smell like spring because that's exactly what they are right now: spring buds. There are a few flowers whose path had already synchronized with the potential of becoming something specific, like vinegar, candied apples, or a beautiful table. You were able to smell those potential futures because they already exist in the present moment.”
“Well what happens to them now? They obviously won’t become those things since they were blown down by the wind.”
The glowing woman scooped up some petals and piled them on top of the girl’s overflowing handful.
“You are correct. Because the wind blew the flowers off the tree, these specific blossoms won’t become apples, or anything else. The destinies you perceived were simply strong possibilities. Another, stronger influence called a 'wind storm' appeared and created a more probable future, namely the blossoms blowing off the trees. We have to keep in mind that, from our vantage point, we don’t know the truth of the blossoms' entire story-of-becoming. The destinies you perceived were likely, but not set in stone.
We only know that the foehn came through and enabled the flowers to experience being young, wind-blown petals, falling to the ground in the light of the springtime moon. Their synchronized future may have indeed been to experience this exciting night, and be held in the glowing hands of a little girl and an old woman talking about destiny and the stars. While their particular adventure-of-becoming has concluded, that’s not the end of their story. The future is never set in stone until it happens, and even that's up for a friendly debate."
The glowing woman smiled and placed another handful of blossoms in her apron.
“You asked what we’re doing. Well, you and I are collecting the petals and returning them to the stars so they can start another adventure-of-becoming. Some may give it another go as apples next year. Others may choose to become an ocean wave, or a puppy, a hearty laugh, or a beautiful idea. They may even go to another world and see what it’s like to be an alien fern or some unknown animal. As starry energy waves floating out in the universe, they can become whatever they want. Since you are here scooping up petals with me, you get to help these flowers return to the stars to find their next destiny.”
Though Janda had never heard anything like this before, she understood exactly what the old woman was talking about. As strange as the experience should have been, it was the most natural, obvious activity one could do. Of course the flowers returned to the stars.
Janda reached her arms out toward the old woman. As she opened her fingers, the shimmering petals crumbled and fell like glitter into the miniature universe that had pooled in the elder’s apron. The girl’s eyes widened with wonder. She looked up to see the old woman’s kind, luminous face beaming down at her.
“You’ve touched the stars now. Isn’t it amazing?”
Janda gave the kind woman a big, toothy grin and added two more handfuls of flowers to the mass of glowing galaxies. They continued their magical task until the first light of day illuminated the horizon.
“It’s time for me to leave now. I’ve got to go shake out this apron at the edge of the Milky Way, and then come back to follow that tricky wind to another apple tree. Thank you for helping me. There are many petals who will remember your kindness for helping them on their journey.”
“Will I ever see you again?”
The old woman smiled. “Yes, of course! Next time a wind blows the blossoms off the tree, I’ll be back and we can collect the petals again together. In the meantime, enjoy spending time with your yellow roses. Now that you know they consider you a friend, you’ll have a lot to talk about. If you ask nicely and listen quietly, I’m certain they would even read you their favorite story.”
Janda gave the woman a long hug before sneaking back through the rhododendron bushes, past her yellow rose friends, and into the house. With her mom still asleep, the girl slid a colorful quilt off the arm of the couch and quietly curled up in the bay window. She fell asleep dreaming of apple blossoms, roses reading books, and her new glowing friend adding stars to the night sky.
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About
In her writing, Nicole Yazolino explores themes related to spirituality, self-discovery, personal growth, and the journey of awakening to the abundant wonders all around. With its vivid imagery, compelling depth, whimsy, and universal appeal, her writing is accessible to a wide range of readers. Her work in the genre of philosophical fiction often contains profound insights and wisdom that inspire readers to reflect on their own lives.
Yazolino's own life experiences and spiritual journey have deeply informed her writing, giving her works an authenticity and magical quality that people find captivating. She invites the reader to explore themes of destiny, the human experience, expanded consciousness, and the connectedness of all things.
© Nicole Yazolino | 2024
Images: AI Generated by Nicole and Canva Magic Studio
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