Why the Aspen Leaves Are Never Still

"Why the Aspen Leaves Are Never Still" by Julia Darrow Cowles is a poignant exploration of nature, identity, and the passage of time. Through the lens of a family's experiences in the mountainous landscapes of the American West, the author delves into themes of change, resilience, and the interconnectedness of human lives with the environment. The narrative intertwines personal reflection with evocative imagery, examining how the shifting seasons and the natural world mirror the complexities of family dynamics and personal growth. Cowles’s lyrical prose invites readers to contemplate their own relationships with nature and the enduring impact of place on the human spirit.

• Short story

								
“WHY are the leaves on the aspen tree never still, Grandmother?” asked
one of the Indian children of the old basket weaver. “I have watched
them so many times, and they always talk together.”

“You are right, my daughter. When there is no breath in the heavens,
the aspen leaves still talk.”

“Is there a story about the aspen tree, grandmother?” asked the little
girl. “Will you tell it to me, if there is?”

“Yes daughter,” replied the old woman, “there is a story about the
aspen tree which it is good that you should hear.”

Taking her basket upon her knees and continuing her weaving, the
grandmother told her story:

“Many, many moons ago there was a young warrior who was lonely in his
father’s lodge, and he said to himself, ‘I will seek a maiden to wed,
and make ready a lodge of my own.’

“So he watched the maidens of the village, and he found two sisters
who seemed so modest, and kind, and good, that he knew not which of
them to choose.

“When he went to their father’s lodge, he was kindly treated by both.
They gave him words of welcome, they smiled upon him, and they
prepared food and set it before him. Both could weave fine baskets for
the lodge, and make rich embroidery of quills.

“Many times the young brave went to the lodge, but he could not tell
which maiden would make the better wife. And at last he said to
himself, ‘I will try magic. I will get the medicine man to help me.’

“So he visited the lodge of the Medicine Man, and after a time there
came away from the Medicine Man’s lodge an old man, bent, and leaning
upon a stick. He walked feebly, and his garments were ragged. His hair
was white, and his chin quivered with age.

“The old man went to the lodge of the two maidens and begged a bit of
food. The younger sister asked him to come inside the lodge and
rest. Then she prepared some nourishing food and gave to him, and
while he ate it she noticed that his feet were barely covered with
pieces of skins tied about the ankle. She hastened to finish the
moccasins that she was embroidering, and gave them to him, so that his
feet should not be bruised with walking.

“The older sister looked on with scorn, and made unkind remarks. She
asked her sister why she should spend time upon a forlorn old man who
could never repay her. She laughed at his ragged garments and at his
quivering chin and feeble knees. Then in a sharp voice she bade him
begone before her lover should come from the hunt.

“The old man went away, after thanking the younger sister for her
kindness.

“A short time later, the young warrior came to the door of the lodge,
bearing upon his shoulders a deer which he had shot. Both sisters
smiled at him and bade him enter. He passed the older sister without a
glance, and laid the deer at the feet of the younger.

“As they looked down at the deer, both sisters discovered that the
young man had upon his feet the moccasins that the younger sister had
just given to the strange old man.

“‘I seek a maiden to be the light of my lodge,’ he said, ‘and by magic
I have found that one. I was the old man who came hither for shelter
and comfort, and so I learned how to escape a sharp tongue and bitter
words.

“‘But the Medicine Man’s charm has not yet finished its work,’ he
added. ‘I do not want another to suffer the fate I have so narrowly
escaped.’

“He took the younger sister by the hand and led her from the lodge.
The older sister followed, and as she stepped outside, her feet became
rooted to the ground, and she was turned into an aspen tree.

“The younger sister became the light of the young warrior’s lodge; but
the aspen tree, like the older sister, while beautiful to look upon,
has since that day had a whispering and unruly tongue.”
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