The Story of the Year Page #2

"The Story of the Year" is a children's fairytale by Hans Christian Andersen about the journey of a little girl through the four seasons of the year. Each season has its own storyline filled with important lessons, unique adventures, and magical moments. From the awakening spring to the serene winter, the girl observes the constant change in nature and learns about life, change, growth, and renewal. Typical of Andersen’s works, this book combines elements of magic, wonder, and moral teachings.

• Children

								

get our rights, and have some return for what we suffered in winter."

Wherever the two children wandered, green buds burst forth on bush
and tree, the grass grew higher, and the corn-fields became lovely
in delicate green.

The little maiden strewed flowers in her path. She held her
apron before her: it was full of flowers; it was as if they sprung
into life there, for the more she scattered around her, the more
flowers did her apron contain. Eagerly she showered snowy blossoms
over apple and peach-trees, so that they stood in full beauty before
even their green leaves had burst from the bud. Then the boy and the
girl clapped their hands, and troops of birds came flying by, no one
knew from whence, and they all twittered and chirped, singing
"Spring has come!" How beautiful everything was! Many an old dame came
forth from her door into the sunshine, and shuffled about with great
delight, glancing at the golden flowers which glittered everywhere
in the fields, as they used to do in her young days. The world grew
young again to her, as she said, "It is a blessed time out here
to-day." The forest already wore its dress of dark-green buds. The
thyme blossomed in fresh fragrance. Primroses and anemones sprung
forth, and violets bloomed in the shade, while every blade of grass
was full of strength and sap. Who could resist sitting down on such
a beautiful carpet? and then the young children of Spring seated
themselves, holding each other's hands, and sang, and laughed, and
grew. A gentle rain fell upon them from the sky, but they did not
notice it, for the rain-drops were their own tears of joy. They kissed
each other, and were betrothed; and in the same moment the buds of the
trees unfolded, and when the sun rose, the forest was green. Hand in
hand the two wandered beneath the fresh pendant canopy of foliage,
while the sun's rays gleamed through the opening of the shade, in
changing and varied colors. The delicate young leaves filled the air
with refreshing odor. Merrily rippled the clear brooks and rivulets
between the green, velvety rushes, and over the many-colored pebbles
beneath. All nature spoke of abundance and plenty. The cuckoo sang,
and the lark carolled, for it was now beautiful spring. The careful
willows had, however, covered their blossoms with woolly gloves; and
this carefulness is rather tedious. Days and weeks went by, and the
heat increased. Warm air waved the corn as it grew golden in the
sun. The white northern lily spread its large green leaves over the
glossy mirror of the woodland lake, and the fishes sought the
shadows beneath them. In a sheltered part of the wood, the sun shone
upon the walls of a farm-house, brightening the blooming roses, and
ripening the black juicy berries, which hung on the loaded
cherry-trees, with his hot beams. Here sat the lovely wife of
Summer, the same whom we have seen as a child and a bride; her eyes
were fixed on dark gathering clouds, which in wavy outlines of black
and indigo were piling themselves up like mountains, higher and
higher. They came from every side, always increasing like a rising,
rolling sea. Then they swooped towards the forest, where every sound
had been silenced as if by magic, every breath hushed, every bird
mute. All nature stood still in grave suspense. But in the lanes and
the highways, passengers on foot or in carriages were hurrying to find
a place of shelter. Then came a flash of light, as if the sun had
rushed forth from the sky, flaming, burning, all-devouring, and
darkness returned amid a rolling crash of thunder. The rain poured
down in streams,--now there was darkness, then blinding light,--now
thrilling silence, then deafening din. The young brown reeds on the
moor waved to and fro in feathery billows; the forest boughs were
hidden in a watery mist, and still light and darkness followed each
other, still came the silence after the roar, while the corn and the
blades of grass lay beaten down and swamped, so that it seemed
impossible they could ever raise themselves again. But after a while
the rain began to fall gently, the sun's rays pierced the clouds,
and the water-drops glittered like pearls on leaf and stem. The
birds sang, the fishes leaped up to the surface of the water, the
gnats danced in the sunshine, and yonder, on a rock by the heaving
salt sea, sat Summer himself, a strong man with sturdy limbs and long,
dripping hair. Strengthened by the cool bath, he sat in the warm
sunshine, while all around him renewed nature bloomed strong,
luxuriant, and beautiful: it was summer, warm, lovely summer. Sweet
and pleasant was the fragrance wafted from the clover-field, where the
bees swarmed round the ruined tower, the bramble twined itself over
the old altar, which, washed by the rain, glittered in the sunshine;
and thither flew the queen bee with her swarm, and prepared wax and
honey. But Summer and his bosom-wife saw it with different eyes, to
them the altar-table was covered with the offerings of nature. The
evening sky shone like gold, no church dome could ever gleam so
brightly, and between the golden evening and the blushing morning
there was moonlight. It was indeed summer. And days and weeks
passed, the bright scythes of the reapers glittered in the
corn-fields, the branches of the apple-trees bent low, heavy with
the red and golden fruit. The hop, hanging in clusters, filled the air
with sweet fragrance, and beneath the hazel-bushes, where the nuts
hung in great bunches, rested a man and a woman--Summer and his
grave consort.

"See," she exclaimed, "what wealth, what blessings surround us.
Everything is home-like and good, and yet, I know not why, I long
for rest and peace; I can scarcely express what I feel. They are
already ploughing the fields again; more and more the people wish
for gain. See, the storks are flocking together, and following the
plough at a short distance. They are the birds from Egypt, who carried
us through the air. Do you remember how we came as children to this
land of the north; we brought with us flowers and bright sunshine, and
green to the forests, but the wind has been rough with them, and
they are now become dark and brown, like the trees of the south, but
they do not, like them, bear golden fruit."

"Do you wish to see golden fruit?" said the man, "then rejoice,"
and he lifted his arm. The leaves of the forest put on colors of red
and gold, and bright tints covered the woodlands. The rose-bushes
gleamed with scarlet hips, and the branches of the elder-trees hung
down with the weight of the full, dark berries. The wild chestnuts
fell ripe from their dark, green shells, and in the forests the
violets bloomed for the second time. But the queen of the year
became more and more silent and pale.

"It blows cold," she said, "and night brings the damp mist; I long
for the land of my childhood." Then she saw the storks fly away
every one, and she stretched out her hands towards them. She looked at
the empty nests; in one of them grew a long-stalked corn flower, in
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