A Boy and his Plant

Continuing the story about a boy who once had a free-thinking lamb but then he got arrested and jailed for violating the village municipal law against possession of free-thinking lamb. (see the December 18, 2006 post for the full story behind this boy and what happened with his free-thinking lamb).

The boy, having spent a rather uncomfortable night in jail, decided to represent himself in the morning when the village elders gathered for the arraignment. The village lawyer was also the baker, and since the baker needed the mornings to bake bread for the entire village, and since village arraignments are always in the mornings, it was kind of pointless to ask for the village lawyer to represent you. Since the village had virtually no crime (other than the most recent crime which made the village newspaper front page), everything worked out just fine. The boy thusly represented pro se, the village elders regarded him with more or less indifference. The boy looked around for assistance but his erstwhile free-thinking lamb, being released on its own recognizance, did not appear in defense of the boy. The village elders, without further ado, asked him whether he thought himself guilty or innocent of the charge of violation of possession of free-thinking lambs. The boy replied,

"I did not know that my lamb was the cause of so much pain to this village. I plead guilty to this charge. I don't ask for forgiveness, but I will not violate the ordinance again."

The village elders conferred briefly but then released the boy, who felt rather severely chastened by his neighbors and not just a little hurt from being. The free-thinking lamb, of course, was REALLY no where to be found, and the boy returned home to his little cottage, alone and a day behind in his chores, but really no worse for wear. The story of what happened to the free-thinking lamb, well, that's a story for another time. The boy thought it best anyway, since the free-thinking lamb was the cause of his troubles, and since the free-thinking lamb didn't actually help out in any of the chores. Perhaps it was best this way.

So the boy continued to do his work; he would rise early in the morning, rub the dreams of owning non-free thinking, helpful around the house kind of farm animals from his eyes, and with his axe, go into the forest to cut some wood for the fires that needed tending. Then he would take the pail and draw water enough from the nearby stream to fill the barrels. Finally, he would collect the berries, the honey and any fish that got caught in the nets before coming back home. There were many chores to be done, and the boy felt his duties keenly. Without water, how would he eat, wash or bathe? Without wood, how would the fires warm the home and cook the food? Without the berries, honey and fish, surely he would die of hunger! So the boy continued his tasks without complaints. It kept him busy and the village elders had their own affairs to attend to, so all was well.

Day after day the boy continued his tasks, warily avoiding any contact with any animal that might even be construed like a free-thinking lamb. But then one day the boy chanced upon a rather odd plant, a plant with slightly bluish tint to its leaves, and a rather unusual flower petal design. Its berries were old and pitted, ans were very acidic and bitter to the taste. But rather than letting it be, the boy decided to take it home and plant it near his home, to make it grow and to see what might come of it. The boy had no herbology skills, and certainly was no farmer, but the boy knew enough to bring enough soil with the plant to keep it alive during its trip to the plant's new home. The boy then drew more water from the barrels, and kept the plant moist and dewy in the mornings before chores began.

Many months passed, and then a full season. The boy checked in on the plant from time to time, which by now had grown at least a foot, and was nearly at the boy's waist. Still, there was no fruit to be had. After the spring thaw and the rains that periodically threatened the village with flooding had passed, the boy returned once again to his home and to his plant. He looked at the plant once more, and then uprooted it and tossed it into the fire.

The moral of this story is that sometimes, plants don't always work out the way that you planned.

-David