In The Glade by Christina Nyenhuis

This story uses the scientific names of the Black Willow, Cucumber tree, Southern Magnolia, Red Mulberry, and the Northern Red Oak, as the names of the characters. The characters are introduced in the same order as the above tree names.



The wind blows softly and the sun shines brightly through the glade, a glade familiar to many. This glade is beyond the base of a mountain, and before the panoramic view at the peak of the mountain. From beyond this mountain come many storms. Around this glade is a magnificent wall of trees: Oaks, Maples, Poplars, Magnolias, Pines and Cedars. The roots of these trees are strengthened by these storms of time, and yet their branches have not been haggard by those same storms. These trees rightfully hold their heads high and erect. In this glade runs a stream from the mountain. A stream that one day flows coolly and quietly, bringing rest to the glade and another day leaps and tumbles over itself trying to expand its bed and dissolve the banks. This stream will forever separate the two sides of the glade.
On the bank of this stream there is a willow, a willow named Salix nigra. Her boughs dip into the stream on one side and brush the grass on the other. The wind plays through her branches. When the stream flows smoothly, Salix’s branches feel the calm rest. But when the stream leaps, Salix’s boughs are sprayed with the sparkling tear like droplets. Salix knows the stream well.
But Salix is not alone in the glade. Toward the mountain, on the edge of the glade, there are two Ancient trees. Each tree stands on a bank of the stream and bends to touch in an arch over the stream. It is as though through time these two trees have drawn together to better span the stream that will forever separate them. On the same bank as Salix stands Magnolia acuminata, tall and erect, yet softened by the years of her existence. Acuminata’s roots are deep in the soil and the stream’s flowing does not expose them. Her roots reach beneath the stream to support it, and contain it.
Across the stream from Acuminata stands Magnolia grandiflora, hardy and strong. Grandiflora’s trunk is thick and round, strong from years of storms. He does not stand as straight as Acuminata, though. It is evident he has passed through terrible storms over the years of his growth. When storms come to the glade, his branches wave in a greeting to the wind, as if it were a playful exercise. His roots reach deep below the stream and twine with Acuminata’s. Salix often looks to these trees with a sense of awe and respect: awe and respect for their strength, fortitude, and survival through years of obvious danger.
Slightly down the stream from Salix a little tree is firmly planted on the opposite bank. This little tree is named Morus rubra. Morus is an energetic tree that tries to make up for his lack of height by being in constant action. When the wind blows, he flings his branches with the wind, to appear as if he is about to be uprooted. And when the stream floods, his branches go limp and he looks as though he is going to be swept away. In the late summer, he likes to flaunt his berries to attract the flashiest birds.
Salix often smiles at Morus’ antics, and then unconsciously looks across the stream toward the ring of trees opposite her and compares Morus with Quercus rubra. Quercus is a stately tree that has his roots buried deep in the earth and tightly wound around the rocks and boulders that make up the hillside. Salix often looks with admiration towards Quercus. He is tall and she is short. The wind tosses his branches. The water tosses hers. When a storm comes, Quercus raises his branches in welcome while Salix frantically digs her roots into the bank to not be uprooted by the rushing torrent of the stream. Quercus was all Salix believed she lacked, yet he was unconscious of her.
That is why Salix wept when the woodsmen came. They came behind Quercus through the ring of tees behind him, felling one trunk after another until Salix feared for the glade. She knew the trees would grow again, but nothing was as sad as seeing the familiar trees fall. Salix trembled as the trees around Quercus fell and she wept afresh as the men surveyed Quercus’ girth. They tapped his trunk to hear how sound his wood was and smiled in satisfaction at the sturdy resonance they heard. Above their heads, Quercus held himself upright and quiet, calmly waiting for the blows of the woodsmen’s axes.
From the mountain burst a storm in all its fury. The clouds poured a torrential spring rain across the glade. Salix rejoiced to see the men run to seek shelter, and then grew concerned with the rate which the stream overflowed its banks. With her roots, she dug deeply to keep her balance while the stream ripped at her branches. Salix glanced up to see Quercus raise his branches in welcome to the saving storm, and then she looked downstream to see Morus struggling with the foaming water.
As Salix looked toward Morus she did not believe what she was seeing, Morus was struggling and then Morus was gone! He was not acting this time; he had actually lost his grip. She saw his branches swirl in the current and disappear. Salix jerked herself back as she felt water rush over her roots. The dirt was being swept away from her roots, and she was losing her grip. Just when Salix felt as if she was going to rip loose, the rain calmed and the torrent slowed. Salix gazed despairingly towards Acuminata to see her reassuringly shake dripping rain from her branches as she stood erect above the stream.
Salix shook her waterlogged branches and wiggled her roots. A fresh breeze caught her upper branches and shook her leaves. She watched the breeze leave her boughs and rustle Quercus’ raised branches. Salix looked down to see her roots bare and exposed on the stream bank. The warm sun shone through the patchy clouds to reflect off her exposed roots; Salix could feel them drying. But if they dried, they would wither. She wiggled her roots more to bury them deeper in the bank. Salix saw downstream the patch of dirt that had been where Morus stood. She softly cried for the little tree that was not strong enough to hold on during the rush of the stream.
But the storm was only temporarily in recession. Salix could see dark clouds rolling in behind the ones that had just released their burden. Salix watched the clouds as they jostled and tumbled over themselves. The clouds were dark and swollen with streaks of lightning already visible on their undersides. Salix was paralyzed with fear; what would this next storm do? With a rumble the storm was upon the glade. The rain came in sheets over Salix as the sum was blotted from the glade. Lighting momentarily illuminated the glade as it struck where Morus had stood. The clouds clapped with thunder. The stream did not have time to flood; the whole glade became an intricate pattern from the rivulets.
With a sizzle, lightning flashed across the glade and exploded the right side of Quercus’ trunk. Salix was deafened by the roar of thunder. It was all she could do to keep her roots tightly wound around the rocks in the earth. Salix fought to keep her grip as the stream tugged at her trunk and whipped her branches. The lightning flashed again as the storm started to leave the glade. The crash of thunder was lessened as the heart of the storm passed out of the glade. The rain slacked and the stream did not pull so hard while the sun reappeared. The mellow sunshine again bathed the glade in warm light.
But, alas, Quercus was not the same. His trunk was crooked and his right side was completely splintered. The branches on his right side were gone and his upper branches were frayed and hanging. Salix’s tears spilled over the loss, and she shook with grief that Quercus should be so maimed. A fresh breeze swept through the glade and hurried the remainder of the storm on. As the breeze blew past Grandiflora his branches lifted and Salix saw that his trunk was crooked; but the wound was not recent, it was mottled and scarred with the years of healing.
Salix wondered at this wound and began to weep again as she looked at the hillside and saw the woodsmen leaving their now tattered camp to walk toward Quercus. They slowly circled his now misshapen trunk and sadly shook their heads at the damage the storm did to him. They quickly turned and started to survey the surrounding trees. Then Salix understood why Grandiflora still stood and rejoiced that Quercus was still standing, also.