There is a single tree in the middle of a field, it’s a normal enough willow tree. In the winter there are kids that go sledding by a nearby hill and sit under it hiding from the harsh and cold winds. There are couples that sit under it in the spring, having picnics and falling in love. In the summer people hike up to see the fields of flowers not expecting the giant tree that sits there, they usually decide to sit under the tree, cooling off in the shade. Then as fall approaches the flowers wilt and die, everyone would expect that because of all the death in the once beautiful area that it would be hideous during the fall. But the golden brown hues made the beauty shine just as much as the other seasons. People would come to sit under the tree in the fall, reading Alice in Wonderland or other fantastic books. To say the least the normal looking willow tree that sat there has many stories, some sad, some happy, and some wild. (But the best story is the one where hot met cold and where life met death.) This is the story of the seasons.



The willow tree had been half its size when Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall met. They had been in hatred up until their meeting right now. They had been harsh to each other. Stealing turns, and playing nasty. Making the world turn to chaos and destruction. There wasn’t supposed to be snowstorms in the middle of summer, or the death of plants in spring. Everything was out of balance, out of order. It had all started out of a petty argument about when the seasons started. That was enough to fuel the hate and caused the nasty tricks to be played. The seasons were all intelligent, just all in their own way.


Fall was by far the most strategic. His curly auburn hair, his dark brown eyes, his lanky frame and the glasses that were much too big for his face made him seem innocent. None of the other seasons had thought of him as a threat, until he started to strike. He killed the flowers and grass the Spring had worked so hard to grow, he caused unbearable humidity that Summer had balanced perfectly, and Fall had ruined Winters perfect snow by putting dead leaves into something that she had been proud of. Winter was the first to strike back against Fall.


Winter was the strongest, she was definitely the smartest when it came to ‘street smarts.’ Her near white hair that went to her mid-back, blue eyes that looked straight into you, and skinny frame hid how fierce she really was. Winter was the best season at messing with the others work, unlike Fall she didn’t have the element of surprise. Everyone knew that she would strike. She’d make it snow in the middle of Summers work, she liked to torment Summer the best. After that Spring and Fall were careful. Spring dropped his guard and was working on bringing up the flowers that the Fall had ruined when he turned around to the the earth he had just re-bloomed covered with at least five inches of crystal clear ice. She saved Fall for last, needing to plot the perfect revenge though their skills met each other nicely. From Falls death to Winters cold bitterness. So as Fall was ruining the flowers that had just begun to grow again Winter froze the boy. He stayed like that for a year.


Years passed different for the seasons. One day - from the time the sun dared to rise to when the moon fell back to her place. The Stars, Moon and Sun were all scared of the seasons the controlled everything, including them. But that was another story that the old willow tree had to tell, and the tree couldn’t tell you all his stories at one time. You’d never come back to keep the aged willow company.


Spring was the next to attack. His wild strawberry blonde hair, bright green eyes and plumper stature made the boy unpredictable for the other seasons. He was able to play mind games with the others, making him more of a mental threat. And it scared the others, more than they would like to admit. Spring started with Summer, making the sandy beaches she had spent so long on filled with bees and flowers. Then he moved to Fall, that twig needed to be taught a lesson. Spring started to bring all of the leaves back to life, and restoring life to everything as he walked in the path of the forest. Fall was upset, but he supposed that he deserved it. After all, life brought death. It just meant that the two were doing their job. Spring needed something big for Winter. So she sent a tornado. That was what needed to be done. Spring set back to work on everything that needed to be cleaned up, which was everything. Afterall all of the seasons caused pranks when the others weren’t looking.

Summer had had enough at this point. The normally sweet and motherly one of the four was also the one with the biggest temper. While Winter was emotionless and cold to them all, Summer was a hothead that blindly went into a rage. So she started with Fall. Making the air around the dead leaves and trees dry, sucking up anything in the air and started everything to blaze. The once golden hues that looked fantastic in the setting sun was now burning as hot as the sun. Next she moved to Spring, drying out the water, so that the once beautiful flowers started to welt. Last was Winter. Summer and Winter fought hard and long, they always had to beat the other. Summer was annoyed and her temper made her untouchable. She melted the snow as she walked over to Winter, just glaring until a small tree left in the middle of all the chaos called out to them.


The seasons looked around. The land that they had been fighting was ruined, the trees too dead for even Spring to fix. They looked to the lone willow tree that now looked sad, and then back to each other. Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring all agreed to take turns so this wouldn’t keep happening. And soon the seasons grew on each other, even Winter and Summer got along now. The years turned to more than a day, they turned to 365. In summer the days seemed longer, making her happy. And in winter the days seemed shorter, leaving her to sit inside and read.


There is an old willow tree in the middle of a field with more stories than a library. And if you sit long enough you get to hear thousands of them. The aged and brilliant tree has seen it all, from the beginning and she is still living. Once a year the seasons come and talk to the tree, listening to the stories that they missed out on. This willow tree was anything but ordinary, this willow was extraordinary. This old willow had lived through Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall all at once. Willow had lived through the heat of the sun and the bitter cold of space. She had lived through death and was even more revived through life. The seasons didn’t call her Willow anymore though, the teenage appearance of the four called her a special name. And soon all who came to see her didn’t call her Willow anymore. They all called her one thing: Mother Nature. And Mother Nature still lives, you can hear her stories if you listen hard enough, and who knows. Maybe one day when you are sledding down a snowy hill you’ll spot her, perhaps you’ll relax in her shade in the heat, maybe you will find yourself running across her when you were just there to see the flowers in bloom, or maybe you’ll sit in her old branches listening to her stories of the world that was once in chaos.