Holiday Magick (24 page)

“Jupiter?” Earth shakes a few tornadoes loose on the plains of Oklahoma. “You think?”

“Maybe.”

“Why would Jupiter get involved with me?”

“We all know that Jupiter doesn't have the kind of metal you do. Maybe they have a special anniversary coming up? Keep going, I'm curious now.”

“She said I could use my humans' love of celebrating to my advantage. So she created a plan for me. She called it the Arbor Day plan.”

“What's it involve?”

“Well, first I told her that I didn't want to do seaweed plugs, because it wouldn't look natural. She said it wouldn't be plugs, that we would use my already existing seeds.”

“Makes sense.”

“Right? So maybe I wasn't as rash as you thought.”

“We'll see. How's the Arbor Day plan work?”

“The plan was
supposed
to work by implementing a holiday all about my trees. Rings said that we could play on the humans' guilt about using up so many of my trees and have each of them plant a new one during each one of my Arbor Day treatments. You know, to circumvent all the nonsense with wind, squirrels, gravity, and the risky hope that my seeds get under the soil. She said all I had to do was apply an Arbor Day treatment once a year and I would see results in as little as a few decades. A century, tops.”

“Blue.” A quaking rumbles through Mars' crust. “It hasn't even been two centuries yet! After four and a half billion years of existence, you think you're going to change that drastically, that fast? Are you out of your orbit?”

“I
am
changing that fast! Look at me. My trees are thinning like crazy!”

“Blue. This Arbor Day plan actually sounds pretty solid. You just have to give it time.”

“I don't have time!”

“What, you think Venus is going somewhere?”

“No, not that. It's just that when I applied the first coating of Arbor Day in 1872, a million trees were planted. A million, Red! It was incredible. I felt like I was four billion years young again! And it was going well for a while, but things have slowed down. My humans seem to be getting immune to Arbor Day. They just don't plant like they used to.”

“Listen, I'm glad that it made you happy, but I'm telling you, Venus doesn't really care about your problem. Just be yourself. Be confident.”

“I'll feel more confident when my rainforests grow back and hide all that nasty topsoil.”

“I'm so sick of this. Hey, Venus!”

The Amateur Astronomy Club for Avid Beginners, or AACAB, located in Bristol, England, furiously begins scribbling an article about how it looked like Mars has moved slightly closer to Venus, and that if it continued its current trajectory, a devastating impact would occur and eventually, Earth's gravity would pull in the debris and destroy all human life.

The article will almost certainly never be published.

“SHHH! What are you doing?”

“What
you
should have done a billion years ago.” Mars actually does move a trivial distance closer to Venus' orbit. “Hey, Venus!”

“Hey Red.” Venus rotates with galactic grace as the sun reflects a lustrous white off her. Her thick, cloudy atmosphere makes her the brightest of all planets. “How's it floating?”

“Just right, thanks. Blue has something he wants to ask you.”

A cold front moves in over Earth's Northern Hemisphere.

Some of Venus' clouds move apart to reveal a few dimpled impact craters. “Is that right?”

The temperature in Canada drops drastically low. “Um, hey Venus.”

Deep under Venus' surface, the mantle gets a little hotter. “Hey Blue.”

A giant whirlpool forms in the Atlantic and millions of gallons of water are sucked under the Earth's surface and fizzle violently as they meet the steaming rock. “You look nice today. Is there more nitrogen in your atmosphere?”

“I can't believe you noticed!”

“So sorry but I gotta fly. Catch you two on the other side.” Mars follows its orbit away from Earth, hurling through space at thousands of miles an hour.

Earth and Venus come closer together.

“So…” Earth wobbles on its axis. “How ‘bout this weather?”

“Yeah. It's…nice.”

“The solar wind is pretty strong today, huh?”

“Um, sure. Isn't there something you wanted to ask me?”

“Yeah…” It gets so cold in Vermont that the sap freezes in some maple trees, causing a bunch of them to shatter. “Shoot!”

“What is it, Blue?”

More clouds form above Earth, covering most of the continents. “It's nothing. I just have to—I'll see you later.”

“Wait, Blue, I don't care—”

“I have to go!”

The Earth swiftly follows its orbit around the Sun, away from the lovely Venus.

Maybe I could make it Arbor
Days, Earth thinks as he globally warms himself, ridding his body of some pesky ice.
Yeah that'll do the trick. Three treatments a year. No
. Four
treatments a year
.

Then I'll be ready. Then she'll be interested
.

In the USA, the first Arbor Day was held in Nebraska in 1872. J. Sterling Morton, a former Governor of Nebraska, worked with children to plant over one million trees. This idea spread throughout the USA, and, today, similar events occur on all six inhabited continents.

Was this simply the idea of one man and a group of children, or was there an agent working with the children to start Arbor Day? Maybe it was a tiny agent, with roots deep in many cultures worldwide. Is this another time where young, open perceptions see what older people learn to ignore?

“Let's fly higher, Muime. It's fun. Higher is more fun.”

“Yes. You're right. The earth is incredible from up here.”

“See the tops of the trees,” said Aria as she pointed up. “Couldn't we fly up there? There's an airplane.”

Muime laughed at Aria's excitement, but then turned serious as she warned, “Aria, this is the first time you've flown outside our grove, and there are dangers you must learn about. We are so small that winds can grab our colorful wings and pull our light bodies far away, even over the ocean. We must be very careful to stay within the protection of the trees.”

“Ohhh. I forgot.”

As they rounded a branch and could see more of the sky, Muime called out, “Uh oh, Aria. Look! Dark clouds! They're coming straight toward us. We've got to get home now.”

As they darted through the trees, the sky quickly darkened and lightning flashed.

“We need a safe place. Follow me, Aria.”

“Okay, Muime.”

Their tiny wings fluttered quickly as they dove down. Muime's experience told her they were seconds from disaster, since heavy rain could smash their dragonfly-sized bodies against the ground. Muime flew to their old oak, with Aria close behind. They slipped through the familiar opening and into their home.

Splashing sheets of rain and thunder filled the air, shaking the tree. Aria curled up against Muime as they huddled inside. The heaviest part of the storm passed by and allowed them to relax. Muime wrapped her arms around Aria. They napped in their twisting-tunnel oak-tree home as the storm quieted.

Hours passed; once the sun was shining again, Muime said, “I'm going out to see what's happening. I'll be right back.”

Muime walked to the opening, fluttered her wings, and pushed off. Her experienced eyes, wary of birds and humans, noticed every movement around her. Flying through the grove, she heard a loud jarring sound, something like “Drdrdrdrdrdrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.” Moving closer, she saw a downed tree near the road, and a man with a chainsaw trimming off the branches.

Muime turned around and flew home as fast as her wings could carry her.

“Aria, come here! We might be in danger.”

Aria came instantly. Her grandmother was rarely frightened. “I'm ready. Let's go.”

They flew over and landed in a tall maple a few trees from the chainsaw man. As he cut down each tree, he removed the branches and sawed the trunks into smaller chunks.

“Daddy! What're you doing?” yelled a girl who came running toward him with a small boy.

“I'm cutting down trees so they can bring in trucks and put up the house.”

“Hi, dear,” called a woman as she walked over. He put down the chainsaw as she gave him a big cup of lemonade. “You got a lot done, sweetheart.”

“Yes, I'm making progress. There's still a ways to go to clear the area where we want the house.”

“Where's that, Daddy?” asked the girl.

Pointing, he responded, “Over there, Shyrelle, where the white oak is.”

“Are you cutting down the oak?” asked Shyrelle.

“Yes. That's where Mommy and I want the house.”

“No, Daddy. Look at that tree! It's huge. I bet it's older than you.”

“I bet you're right about that,” said her dad, chuckling.

“Daddy, remember when I showed you the Arbor Day papers from school?”

“Yes.”

“We need to save trees, Daddy, and plant new ones. Look at its thick trunk, and how tall it is. That's the oldest and most beautiful oak I ever saw. I don't want you to cut it down.”

“I understand, but we need a driveway and space for the house and garage.”

“Maybe you can save the oak
and
some of these other trees. Jim and I are going over there to look,” Shyrelle called over her shoulder as she ran to the opening in the grove where the oak stood. Her brother followed.

Muime was shocked. The white oak the humans were discussing was their home. Aria turned to Muime and said, “Can we do anything? You've said how hard it is working with humans. But the girl knows about Arbor Day, so maybe we have a chance.”

“Humans are tough to work with. Most adults can't see or hear us. They see what they believe, and few believe in us.”

“You've been alive a long time, Muime. Do any adults believe in fairies?”

“A few do, in a handful of places. Some young ones can notice us. Maybe the little boy will be one of them,” said Muime as she flew down near Jim and Shyrelle.

Muime stayed back as Shyrelle called, “Jim, look up there.” She pointed to the opening in the oak, the doorway for Muime and Aria's home.

“Why's there a hole in the tree?” said Jim.

“I don't know. Maybe a branch broke, or it's an animal's home, or the tree has a disease,” answered Shyrelle.

Muime carefully fluttered near Jim and whispered, “It's not a problem in this tree.” Jim jumped, surprised, and turned toward the voice. He saw a tiny person flying next to him.

“Who are you?” asked Jim.

“A fairy,” answered Muime, staying near him. “Find out if your sister can see us. Whisper to her. I don't want to startle your parents.”

“Shyrelle,” whispered Jim. “Look.” He pointed toward Muime, who was fluttering next to him.

Shyrelle looked, but didn't seem to notice anything.

“Say something,” Jim asked Muime.

“Shyrelle, I live in this tree. Can you hear me or see me?” inquired Muime, flying closer to Shyrelle.

“I hear you, but…” Shyrelle squinted in the direction of the voice. “Oh! Now I see you! Who are you?”

“A fairy, and my family lives in that hole in the oak tree. Please help us save our home. Your parents probably don't believe in us, and probably can't even see us. That happens to most adults, so we need
your
help.”

“Jim, Shyrelle, come over here,” called their mom. “Let's talk about the oak and cutting down trees.”

Shyrelle and Jim looked at each other, and at Muime, who flew up and into the oak tree's opening. They ran over to their parents.

“Daddy and I are talking about the oak. We don't think we should change where the house is going since we start construction soon. We can plant new trees later,” said their mom.