Folksburywoods Story Blog

“It seems the weather has turned Acacia,” said the matron to her owl.

Efterår lived alone and liked it that way. Her parents had moved from Copenhagen when her mother was still pregnant.

“We should go and check the hedgerows to see what berries are ripe today,” the woman said.

Efterår’s mother gave birth surrounded by the fall colors. The parents chose Efterår, Danish for Autumn, to celebrate the child’s beauty.

Efterår took to the land. In a short time, she knew every inch of it as if it were her hand.

“The elderberries are ready. I heard Sebastian telling the other crows to get them before the lady does. I’ll have a talk with him about manners,” said Efterår with a wry smile.

One winter, her mother caught a bad cold. Her father attempted to fetch the healer but never returned.

“Don’t you think we should make dewberry jam this year?” asked the matron.

Acacia nodded enthusiastically. “Mother always loved when we had enough berries to make jam,” remarked Efterår as she fetched her basket.

Efterår was able to cure her mother of the sickness. Sadly, the woman passed over the following spring from a broken heart.

“Acacia, be a good lad,” the woman asked. “Scout ahead to see if the grumpy old bear is anywhere near.”

Burying her mother behind the house, the girl set about making things right. She planted gardens, cleared hedgerows, and even dug a shallow pond for fish.

The villagers pleaded with her to leave her home and take work at the tavern as a serving girl.

“As long as I have two strong hands, I’ll not leave my home,” replied Efterår.

For over sixty years, Efterår has lived and worked alone deep in the ancient forest. “Time is approaching for the festivities. Better get my harvest in or those young ones will strip the bushes clean,” said the matron.

Once a year, on the Fall Equinox, the local villages bring cakes and wine to celebrate at Autumn’s home.

“To long life and happiness, Efterår. You bring joy to those who cherish the Autumn season,” says the mayor.

“I only wish my parents could have a few more seasons to enjoy. A toast to those who grant me my name,” replies Efterår.

“To Ella and Rulph Höst, Hip, hip, horray,” cry the villagers. Then it’s time for food and more wine.

“I hope you can hear us and know you are not forgotten,” whispers Efterår.

Someday Efterår will follow her parents. But as she says, “As long as I have two strong hands, I’ll not leave my home.”

Her grip is still firm.

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