Birth of the Arbutus

"Birth of the Arbutus" by Julia Darrow Cowles is a richly illustrated children's book that explores themes of nature, growth, and the changing seasons. Through lyrical prose and vivid images, Cowles takes young readers on a journey to discover the delicate beauty of the Pacific Northwest's landscape, highlighting the importance of the Arbutus tree. The narrative not only celebrates the wonder of the natural world but also encourages curiosity and appreciation for the environment, making it an engaging read for children and parents alike.

• Children
• Short story

								
LONG years ago, when only the red men lived among the hills and
valleys of the land, an old, old man sat shivering over the low fire
of his tepee. The old man was Peboan. He was chief of the winter
spirits.

The outside world was covered with snow. The branches of the trees
bent low with its weight. The sides of the tepee were heavy with snow.
All the tracks of the bear and the rabbit were hidden.

The old man shivered, and bent over his fire. He was clothed in furs,
and furs covered the floor of the tepee. But they could not keep out
the chill winds, for the fire was low. There was no more wood to
replenish it. Snow covered all the fallen branches, and the chief was
old and feeble.

Peboan had been a mighty hunter. He had killed the moose and the bear.
The skins of many deer were about him. But now his hair was white as
the icy fringes of the frozen brook.

He blew upon the coals of his fire and they glowed, bright as the eyes
of a startled deer in the forest. But the glow faded. The old man
shivered.

There was no food in the tepee. The bear and the rabbit were hidden in
the forest. Their tracks were covered with snow. Peboan could not hunt
them.

Then, upon his knees, he cried to the Great Spirit for help. He cried
for help, that Peboan, chief of the winter spirits, might not suffer
want and cold.

As he sank once more upon his furs, he felt a warmth in the tepee. He
looked up.

In the doorway stood a youth, whose red cheeks and sparkling eyes told
of health and strength. A wreath of sweet grass was bound about his
curling locks, and in his hands he held a cluster of flowers. Light
and quick was his step as he entered the lodge of Peboan.

He smiled upon Peboan, and the old man felt a warmth enveloping him.

“Enter, my son,” he said, “and welcome. I have no refreshment to
offer. But come to my fire, and tell me who you are.”

Then the youth said, “The Great Spirit has sent me to Peboan. I am
Seegwun, the Spring. But tell me of yourself, Peboan.”

Then Peboan cried, “I am the great winter spirit. When I come to the
Earth, all the Earth’s children tremble. I breathe upon them, and they
cry out. The trees drop their leaves. The birds fly away. The forest
children creep into their holes.”

“Ah,” cried the youth, “when I come to the Earth, the Earth’s children
laugh and clap their hands. I breathe upon them and they dance with
joy. The trees put forth their leaves. The birds come back. The forest
children awake.”

Peboan continued, “When I come to the Earth, I shake my locks and snow
falls from the clouds. The streams grow hard and still. The wind sings
dirges through the naked trees.”

“When I come to the Earth,” laughed Seegwun, “I shake my ringlets and
warm showers fall from the clouds. The grass awakes. The flowers
bloom. Soft breezes blow. The streams are glad, and sing as they dance
along.

“Peboan,” said the youth, “the Great Spirit has sent me to the Earth,
and you must go.”

Seegwun smiled, and the tepee grew warm. Peboan became silent. His
head drooped lower and lower.

The sun shone forth, and the snow melted beneath its rays.

Then Spring waved his hands over the sleeping Peboan, and he sank upon
the ground. Smaller and smaller he grew. His clothing seemed turned to
furry leaves, and covered the floor of the tepee.

The youth smiled, for Peboan was gone.

Softly he lifted the furry leaves, and beneath each cluster he placed
blossoms of white and pink. He breathed upon them with his fragrant
breath, and they became sweet. Their spicy odor filled all the tepee.

Then the youth laughed gladly, and went his way.

The sun shone, and the children of the little Indian village ran from
their homes, and danced and sang in its warmth. A bird was caroling in
the tree top, and they stopped to listen. The stream shook off its icy
covering and went singing down its course. The children followed it.

They came to the spot where the tepee of Peboan had stood. And lo! all
the ground was covered with fragrant flowers.

“The arbutus!” cried the children. “The arbutus!”

They picked the beautiful, fragrant blossoms, and joyously carried
them home. And when the old people of the village saw them, they knew
that the Spirit of the Spring had returned to fill the earth with joy
and gladness.
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