How Flowers Got Their Petals
A long time ago, when humans were new to the world, there lived a young
child. This child loved to spend time with the animals. She would spend hours asking
questions of the wise owls, helping the tiny ants build their homes, and playing with the
deer. This child knew patience, kindness, and loyalty, so all of the creatures came to
know this child as their Beautiful Child. They would call on the child for help with their
problems, and the clever child always had a solution. When the Owl came to the child
and begged for help searching in the dark for his food, the child stayed up all night,
and made a special bowl to collect moonlight with. The child then poured the moonlight
into the Owl’s eyes, and the Owl was very grateful. When the Snake complained that
she had no furs to keep her warm, the child wove her a blanket so tight it began to
ripple. When this blanket was wrapped around the Snake, she was never too cold
again, but was never able to get her arms and legs out of her heavy scales. The
child honored and respected all of the animals, but knew nothing of the plants.
One day, when the child was sitting under a tree waiting for Mother Bear to
show her how to collect honey, the child came upon a small stalk. The stalk called
out,
“Beautiful Child! Come here and help me! We need you!” The child sat and
stared, for she had not ever seen such a strange creature. Remember, the child
did not know that if one sat still enough one could hear the plants.
“Small Creature, I know not what you are, but I will do my best to fix your
problem. What ails you and your kind?” The small stalk was actually a young flower,
desperate for help.
“My kind are the plants, and we are what fills the bellies of the animals and
humans alike. But we have never been able to speak with you, for you are always
moving about so quickly. I am a flower, and my kind are dying. We need the bees to
carry our pollen to each other, for we are stuck in the ground. But the bees will
not come anywhere near us. Our nectar is sweet, and our seeds are soft, but
they will not land on us. We do not know what to do, will you help us?” The child was
moved by the tiny flower’s speech, and vowed to help in any way possible. The child
moved to the Hive, and called upon the Queen Bee.
“Mother Bee,” the child begged, “My friends, the flowers, need you to help
spread their pollen. They cannot move and you do so well with the other plants. Will
you help them?” The Queen Bee was very fond of the child, but she would not be
able to help.
“Beautiful Child, the tale you tell is very sad, but I fear I cannot help you. We
Bees cannot see very well, and the stalks of these flowers blend into the ground. It
is difficult to notice such simple stalks, and we have nowhere to land! The seeds
they hold are not big enough for our bodies, and we would fall off if we tried.” The
child thanked the Queen, and went to a sacred place so she could ask the Creator.
She climbed a sacred hill and fasted and prayed for three days and three nights. On
the fourth day, Creator appeared to the child.
“Creator, I need your help! I do not ask for much, and I would beg of you to
give me a vision so I could help the flowers.” The Creator was proud of the child for
working so hard to help the animals and plants.
“Beautiful Child, I will give you this vision, but you must cut off all of your
beautiful hair to do this task. Do you still want to help?” The child was sad about
losing her hair that had been there all of the her life. But with determination, the
child cut off her hair and settled down for a vision. When the child fell asleep, the
vision was full of bright colors and sweet smells. Soft platforms were on the
stalks of the flowers, and all of the plants were joyous. When the child woke up,
she saw all of her hair spread around on the ground. Then, the child began to weave,
using her hair as thread. The child worked for days, and when the animals saw what
was happening, they brought food and water enough to keep the child strong. As the
child wove, the hair that had been sacrificed became beautiful colors, all that the
child had seen in nature before. As the child wove, she became weaker and smaller,
and less interested in anything but weaving. The animals soon realized that the child
was going to die if she kept weaving. They ran to the flowers, and begged them to
take back their request.
“I will carry your pollen! Just please let the child live!” The Hummingbird begged,
who had been gifted with the speed of the wind to escape predators, all from the
child.
“I will carry your pollen to other flowers!” Cried Brother Wind, who had spent
many days playing with the child. The flowers did not know how, so the creatures
went to work trying to stop the child themselves. Sister Rain wept, and Brother
Wind lashed against the childs hands, all in hopes of getting their Beautiful Child to
stop weaving. Grandfather Sun shone so brightly none could see through the glare,
and Grandmother Moon was so dim even the Owls could not see in the night. But still
the Child wove. Mother Earth Shook, in hopes to bump the weaving from the child’s
hands. Father Sky crowded around the child with his fog, in hopes of making it hard
to see the delicate work. But still the child wove. On and on, until the tiny flower
that had started all of this came to the the child in a dream.
“Beautiful Child,” the flower wept, “I did not mean for this to happen. I did not
want for you to wither away your life helping us. We are nothing compared to your
kindness. Please, put down your work and dance in the Wind and laugh in the Rain and
bathe in the Sun and bask in the Moon. Find comfort in Mother Earth and wonder in
Father Sky. Please, Beautiful Child, be happy and healthy once more.” But the child
simply smiled, and held the crying flower close to her chest.
“Do not weep for me, Flower. I am happy. I will not stop, for to lose such a
kind soul as you and your people would be a tragedy. I will work until my job is done,
and then I will rest with the Creator.” And so the child finished, and stood for one
last journey. On each flower the child placed the tiny cloaks, and told them, “When
the humans come to you with ailments, they will pick you and grind you into medicine.
So not only will you be beautiful, but useful, as well.” Every tree she passed bowed
and showered her in leaves colored in brilliant colors as thanks. The animals wept,
and as she passed they fell into a grief so deep they could not raise themselves up again. When the last cloak was placed around the last flower, the child lay down to
rest a bit. And then the child died, and so did the land. The tribes all feared, for
Brother Wind raged across the land and Sister Rain came down in harsh cold ice.
Grandfather Sun would not warm the people, and Grandmother Moon would not
allow them much daylight. Mother Earth would not grow their crops, and Father Sky
would not show them the sweet blue color, only clouds. But all grief fades. One
morning, the cold rain melted, and Grandfather Sun warmed the people and the
animals. Mother Earth gave forth her crops, and Father Sky was blue once more.
Brother Wind was gentle, and Sister Rain warm. The trees grew their leaves, and
the animals were plentiful again. The animals and plants vowed to mourn for their
child again, and the season of their mourning would be called Winter. When the
flowers emerged from the ground, the same cloaks were wrapped around them.
They decided that the sweet smelling soft cloaks would be called Petals, as it was
the name of their Beautiful Child.
