Wise Lily Stories
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Dandelion Dandelion You are so much fun Gold and bright and round you are You look just like a sun! Dandy Dandy Lion A soft and white balloon Silver, dreamy, round you are You look just like the moon! Dany Dandy Lion How changed again you are! Your seeds now travel far and wide You look like tiny stars!
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As I looked up in my apple tree
Two little friends I did see A fairy boy all dressed all in blue Talking away with someone new. His wings of green were all a glimmer And his curly hair in the sun did shimmer He creeped and crawled on a branch up high Then stopped and said "my oh my" "Who are you with wings of brown Flitting and flying down to the ground? Your breast of red is soft and furry You seem to be in such a hurry..." And this was her reply: "You may call me Mrs. Robin, I come here in the spring I build my nest up in this tree, and how I love to sing! My nest is strong and sturdy so, with branches dry and brown But inside it is soft and warm, a cozy bed of down For soon, I'll lay my eggs you see, all blue and speckled and round I'll sit on them and keep them warm, until you hear the sound Of babies with their voices high, a-chirping and a-cheeping Until they settle down again, curled up and a- sleeping. Then I'll fly away a bit and look for worms so long And bring them back for feeding time to make my young ones strong." The fairy boy he listened to the story of the bird Never a tale so magical he had ever heard. He wanted to help and be a friend to the Mother Red And so he offered his services and this is what he said: "Mrs. Robin I will help while you fly away Your babies I will gently watch and keep them safe at bay And should they wake and look around and give a little cry I'll softly wave my fairy wings and sing a lullaby." The mother gave a friendly nod and a smile she did lend They joined their wings together and became the best of friends. And so the two they shared their days in that apple tree Tending to the babies young, birdies one, two three. And when the birdies did grow up and away from the nest they flew Mrs. Robin stayed best of friends with the fairy boy of Blue. written by Christine Summerfield/April 2017 Two brother black birds high in a tree Cackling and crackling their voices at me Wings flapping now they fly away free! Tiny yellow catkins
Full of fluff and delight Arise out of long, tender leaves Arching up towards the morning sun Pinecone looking up at me
You look just like a tiny tree Small at the top, at the bottom wide Inviting me to peek inside Your tips they spiral round and round Within a secret can be found! Pinecones growing on my tree What a wonder you are to me! Violets oh-so Sweet
As I walked along in my garden today Dreaming of roses that bloom in May I touched their branches climbing so high Reaching towards the morning sky But down below, I heard a gentle sigh... "Yes, the roses tall do grow But do remember to look down below..." So, on my knees I did crawl And found a family of flowers so small Colors of purple, dark and deep Awakening from their winter's sleep Their tiny soft petals looked up at me And told me their story with gentle glee... "We come from the family of Pansies you know But we are much smaller and don't make a show Johnny Jumps Ups are our cousins too Be we prefer to play peek-a-boo! And we do have a story to tell Our special gift is our flowery smell Gently press our petals fine And we will give a gift divine Our fragrance is found only in spring That you can use us in so many things! Our perfume it is sweet and fair On your skin our oil you can wear Infuse our petals in water at night Or in the warmth of Father Sun's light A floral drink you can enjoy A spring time treat for each girl and boy! Bakers let our flowers dry And dip them in sugar-do give it a try! Then sprinkle us on your birthday cake The fanciest treat you ever will make! We may be gentle, we may be small We're not as popular as roses tall But do not judge us by our size For you will get a big surprise! For we are the violets and in spring we do bloom Remember us by our sweet perfume Our time to flower is short and sweet For we do fade with the summer's heat. So take a moment on bended knee And share a greeting if you please To the violets, humble and sweet That bloom in spring at your very feet! It was spring time at Green Cottage. The dandelions dotted the grass with yellow polka dots and the lilacs filled the air with sweet perfume. The apple blossoms were finished blooming and green leaves filled its tree. George's mother had taken down her heavy, winter curtains and replaced them with white lace ones for the warmer days to come. "Ahh, that feels better" she said. "Now, we can open the windows and enjoy the evening breeze in our sitting room." How George loved to watch the gentle wind blow the soft, airy curtains back and forth. Each day, George put on his red rubber boots and walked outside. He wandered around the cottage, looking for signs of spring. This time, he noticed the vines that grew up all around the house. Their yard was a small city garden, but his mother and father filled it with plants. Each year, they would dig out some grass and put in more flowers and ground covers that creep along the ground. "The birds and the bees love all kinds of plants" his parents would say. "Not just trees, but bushes and vines too. You never know where they might next build a home." George could see that all kinds of vines grew around the house. Climbing roses and honeysuckle climbed along the front porch. It was a good place to sit at night and smell the sweet perfume. Around the arbor in the back garden, purple clematis twirled around bright pink roses. And all of the old fences were covered in Silver Lace vine. "That one is nick-named 'mile-a-minute' " said his mother. It grows so fast, you would think it grows a mile a minute!" And on the north side of the house, the whole wall was covered withVirginia Creeper. That was George's favorite vine, as its leaves turned bright red in the fall and they were full of purple berries for the birds to eat. George knew all of the names of the vines around the house, except for one. All of the other vines lost their leaves in the winter, but this one stayed green all year long and its stems were quite sturdy. It was an evergreen and it climbed up and up and made a frame around the entrance to the front door. "What's this vine called?" he asked his mother, pointing to the shiny green leaves. "That is a euonymus" replied his mother. "You-won-a-what?" George tried to wrap his tongue around this big, new word. "You-won-a-muss" she repeated slowly. "It rhymes with Grandpa Russ. And it sounds like Michaelmas and Christmas, she said. "Oh, I can remember that!" said George. "You-won-a-muss" he repeated to himself over and over as he looked at the leaves.He liked learning new words and he made up a little verse to help him remember: You won a muss, You won a muss You sound like Grandpa, Grandpa Russ You won a muss, You won a muss Your leaves stay green, even at Christmas! He thought of his Grandfather Russell, who lived at the bottom of Precious Mountain and his big vegetable garden. He remembered Grandpa's favorite crop to grow was potatoes, of every shape and color.It was his grandfather who taught George's mother a love for the garden and all things that grow. He would be visiting him soon in summer and eating fresh food from his garden. One day, as George stepped outside for his usual morning walk, he was just about to go out the front door when his mother stopped him. She put her arm around his shoulder and whispered "shh...there is a tiny new nest at the top of the euonymus vine. While I was tying my honeysuckle to the porch fence this morning, a mother house finch swooped right over my head and landed in the apple tree. She looked right at me, as if to say in a scolding voice: 'stay away from my new nest!' Sure enough, I tip toed across the porch and peeked at the vine. There, I could see a tiny brown nest, no bigger than the palm of my hand." George looked at his mother's hand and marveled at how small that nest could be. Then, he remembered how tiny the house finches were. They flew away every winter and returned to his home each spring. They were quite colorful, with red or yellow feathers. And how they could sing! Their sweet songs awakened him each morning outside his bedroom window. George's mother continued to tell him about the house finches. "The mother and father finches have built a nest in the vine.It is a safe, protected place from the wind and sun. The mother will lay her eggs and keep them warm until they hatch. Let's remember to quietly walk on the front porch to let them be in peace until the babies are born.Listen closely George, and some day soon, you will hear them sing in the early morning." George waited and listened. He kept the feeder filled with linseed and and placed a clay saucer with fresh water on the ledge. He found a flat stone and put it in the center for the birds to land on. He watched the mama bird fly from the nest to the feeder to the apple tree trunk and back again. He smiled at her, thinking 'your secret is safe with me'. As George waited every day, he finally asked his mother "how long before those eggs hatch?" It was getting harder to wait until he could hear those baby birds sing. "A few more days" replied his mother. When the dandelions and lilacs are finished blooming, that will be just about the right time." Soon, George found other things to do in the garden.He poked about here and there with his lucky stick and found all kinds of bugs: worms, beetles, ants and even some lady bugs. Then, one morning, he noticed that the purple lilacs were fading and turning to brown. "Oh" he said to himself. He remembered what his mother said about the baby finches being born. He tip toed towards the front porch and sat down on the steps. He was quiet as a mouse. He listened and waited. He tried not to look up too many times at the wee nest, but he was so excited! Just then, he saw the father finch fly to the nest. He knew it was the father, because his head and chest were rusty red. George heard the sound of tiny baby birds "peep, peep, peep, peep, peep" they all cried in high voices. The mama and papa were perched on the edge of the vine, bending their heads inside the nests and feeding the babies. There was a flurry of sound and a flutter of wings for a moment, then all was quiet and still. Mama finch settled into her nest and wrapped her wings around her babies, keeping them warm and safe. Papa finch stood on the sturdy vine just outside the nest, looking out and keeping watch. And the euyonomous vines wrapped its shiny green leaves all around the nest. All were safe and warm. George thought of those babies and smiled. "I know just how they feel" he said to himself. "After supper, when my belly is full, my mother puts her arms around me too. We snuggle in bed with a story to help me fall asleep. My bed is a lot like that wee nest." And for many days that spring, George awoke to the sweet songs of a happy family of house finches. He listened to the changing sounds of the babies from peeping to squawking to singing. And one day, they flew away and were free. But George always kept the feeder full and the saucer filled with clean water, as he knew the songbirds would return the very next spring. written by Christine Summerfield/May 2016
Old Tree Finds a Friend It was early spring by the shores of Silver Lake. The quiet earth was waking up from her long winter's sleep. Green shoots were peeking out of the ground and buds swelled on the branches of the apple trees. Grandmother Winter had knitted one last blanket of snow over the land in the meadow. The animals were building their homes for their babies to be born in spring. One apple tree stood all by himself at the edge of the meadow. He was the oldest of all the apple trees and he lived all alone. His trunk was crooked and leaned down towards the earth. There were no buds on his branches. Underneath, his bark peeled and fell to the ground. As he watched the other trees fill with nests of robins and squirrels, he bent his head down low. He too wanted a friend to make a home in his trunk. "Who will come and visit me?" he wondered. "My bark is old and rough and I have no soft, green buds anymore." Just them a white tailed rabbit hopped by. She was looking for a home. She leaned against the tree, trying to burrow herself inside and feel cozy. "Oh, this tree is too rough for me" she said. "My fur is so soft. I will itch and scratch on this tree." And off she hopped to find a softer home. A little while later, a mother lady bug gently landed on the tree. She too was looking for a home for her babies. As she crept along the brown bark, she cried "this bark is too brown for me. My pretty shell is much too shiny and it will show up too much against these dark brown walls. I need a home where I will feel safe and no one can spot me. And away she flew in search of a more colorful home. Molly mouse scurried along the bark of the tree, looking to settle in to the right home for her babies that would be born that spring. Her soft whiskers brushed against the rough, dry bark. She looked for a little pond of water to bathe in but could not find any. "Ooh" she cried. "This tree is much too dry and far away from the pond, where I like to collect my thistle down from the milk weed pods. I must find a home closer to the pond." And off she ran in search of water. "Goodness me" thought the tree. "Who will make a home in my trunk? Surely someone will come and keep me company this spring. His trunk sagged a little lower to the ground. He felt sad and lonely. Some of his bark even peeled off and fell to the ground. As the sun set in the evening, he bent his head down low and cried himself to sleep. The next morning, a mother spider awoke early. She crawled along the bark under the old apple tree. She carefully looked at all of the nooks and crannies inside the rough, dry bark. "Ooh" she said to herself. It is nice and quiet here. Far away from other creatures. I won't be bothered here and I can spin my web in peace. The walls are dark brown, just like me! I could hide safely in here and no one would find me. And just look at this scratchy bark! It is just right for me to build my web onto. It will attach well to the rough edges and be strong and sturdy against brother north wind. This is the perfect house for me!" And so, Mother Spider set to work, busily spinning her web. She carefully crafted each thin strand and her web stuck strong to the bark. The old tree watched with wonder as the silvery, delicate web came to life. And as she finished weaving her last thread, tiny dew drops collected in the web and they twinkled and shone in the morning sun. The old tree smiled at those sparkling jewels and said "thank you dear spider. You are just the friend I have been waiting for.Your web is so fine and delicate against my scratchy, old bark. How I delight in watching you spin and weave. And the fresh dew drops remind me of when I was a young and supple tree. You have made me happy in my old age." Looking up towards the sky, he stretched his trunk up high and smiled at Father Sun. And so, the spider and the tree lived together that spring. The old apple tree shared stories of his past years in the meadow and the spider spun stories of spring times yet to come. written by Christine Summerfield/March 2016
George and the Curly Catkins Catkins catkins hanging from a tree Dancing in the wind...tra loo, tra lah, tra lee It was late in the month of April on the shores of Silver Lake. All that week, it had been sprinkling and raining, but this time, George woke up to see a blanket of heavy, white snow on the branches of the lilacs and willow tree outside his window. "That snow is much too heavy for those soft, delicate branches" he said to himself."They might break. I must go outside and tap the snow free from them." George pulled on his shiny red boots and buttoned up his warm coat. He covered his head with his woolly cap and stepped outside. There, leaning against the wall by the front door, was his walking stick. It was strong and sturdy and was as long as he was tall. He had found it under the grandfather cottonwood tree after the early spring snow storm. He walked outside into the chilly, snowy wind with his lucky stick. Smishy smashy, Smishy smashy...went his little red boots as he walked in the soft, black mud. Drippety droppety, drippety droppety...fell big, fat drops of water from the branches above his head. The drops made pretty polka dot patterns in the mud below. "My, oh my" he cried. "Mother Earth is getting a good soak today.I am sure the tree roots are drinking up the water and the worms are happy too." George took his stick and gently tapped the snow off of the lilac branches. He reached up as high as he could to do the same for the willow tree. The branches bounced happily back up, being set free from all that heavy snow. He knew that he was helping the branches from breaking. As George poked about here and there with his stick, he found curly green catkins all over the ground. They were everywhere! He crouched down to look at them more closely. He picked up one and held it in his hand. "Ooh" he said, "this is soft and furry. It looks just like a caterpillar." He petted it with gentle care. "Wouldn't these be nice to put inside a bird's nest? George thought about how much he loved his warm and cozy bed at home, with the blue and green quilt his grandmother had knitted for him. Then, he smiled as he thought of Mother Robin and her babies curled up cozy in their nest of furry, green catkins. Just then, George had an idea. He skipped back home to the garden shed and found his new basket. It was round and was the size of his dinner plate. His mother had just woven it out of soft, young willow branches earlier that spring. He took the basket back to the great willow tree. He gathered the green fuzzy catkins and placed them in the basket. While he worked, he hummed a little tune: Catkins catkins hanging from a tree Dancing in the wind...Tra loo, tra lah, tra lee When his basket was full, he walked along the path, looking for the perfect place to leave his gift for the birds. "It must be just right" he said to himself. "It must be safe from Brother Wind or they will all scatter and blow away." George was a slow but steady walker. Patiently he strolled, with his arms lovingly wrapped around the basket of green curly catkins. While he walked, he hummed his little tune. Catkins catkins hanging from a tree Dancing in the wind...tra loo, tra lah, tra lee. He stopped to rest on a stump by the edge of the path. He listened. High above in the sky, he spotted a robin, with her round, red breast. She was brave and sturdy to be out in the spring time snow. She was flying high. Something was dangling from her yellow beak. George looked more closely. It was a catkin! "She must be building her nest!" he said to himself. George got up with his basket and followed the bird until she landed on the branch of the tall willow tree, the one just outside his bedroom window. George knew just what to do. He crawled under the bushes that led to the roots of the great willow tree. He brushed aside the dry, brown leaves and carefully placed the basket of catkins at the bottom of the tree. George smiled and dipped his hand inside the soft, furry bundle one last time. Then, he looked up to Mother Robin and said "here is my spring time gift to you. May you and your babies be safe and warm in your new home." George walked through the door of his own home, happy to see the pot of cinnamon tea steeping on the kitchen table. He placed his little red boots by the fire to dry. He poured himself a cup of tea and curled up on his bed, deep in the folds of his blue and green quilt. As he sipped his tea, he looked out the window and saw the long willow branches swaying in the wind, back and forth, with the green curly catkins dangling below. It was is if the tree were waving to George saying "thanks for taking such good care of me!" Then, George drifted off to sleep for his afternoon nap, gently humming the words to his little spring time tune... Catkins catkins hanging from a tree Dancing in the wind...tra loo, tra lah, tra lee. written by Christine Summerfield/March 2016
As I walked along the sand on the shores of Silver Lake My feet did tread so softly- a sound they did not make. And then I saw a family of tall and slender stems They nodded their heads as if to say "won't you be my friend?" I stepped a little closer then and what did I behold? Cat tails firm and plump and fat- Big and brown and bold. I ran my finger up and down its body firm and fat It felt so long and kind of strong, like the tail of my cat! "Yes, our name is 'cat tail'" they all replied to me "The red wing black birds like us so and sing a kickereekee!" And then a wind came rushing by and a tail it opened wide I stepped a little closer then and took a peek inside. It was filled up to the top with white and silky stuff It tickled my finger and made me laugh- soft and feathery fluff! I plucked the cat tail from the stem and held it in my hand The wind it blew that feathery fluff all along the sand. The seeds they whirled and twirled around happy as can be Exclaiming "we can dance in the wind- finally we are free!" I waved that magic wand around and watched the faeries fly And then I waved my hand to bid them all a sweet goodbye. And when I went back home that night I petted my kitty's fur I told her all about the plants that are named just after her. So when you walk along the shore and the autumn winds do blow Be sure to look for cat tails high and stop and say 'hello'. You too can wave your magic wand and watch the faeries fly And wave to them a gentle hand- An autumn sweet goodbye. written by Christine Summerfield/September 2016
Tiny, yellowy greeny dots Speckly spickly tiny spots Dotting the water and branches brown Dragonfly stops and settles down. Written by Christine Summerfield/July 2016
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