Section 1
Once upon a time, a little boy caught a cold because his feet got wet when he went outside. It was a mystery how it happened because the weather was actually dry. His mother took off his clothes, put him in bed, and asked for the teapot to be brought in. She wanted to make him a special cup of tea using the blossoms from an elder tree, which is known to be very warm and comforting. At that exact moment, a very kind and caring old man entered the room. He lived all alone on the top floor of the house and sometimes felt a bit lonely because he didn’t have a wife or children of his own. However, he had a big heart and loved children very much. He knew a lot of magical fairy tales and exciting stories, and listening to him was always a delightful experience.
“Now, have some of your tea,” said the mother, “and maybe you’ll get to hear a wonderful story.”
“Yes, if I only had a brand-new story to share,” said the old man, giving a friendly nod and a smile. “But I’m curious, how did the little boy end up with wet feet?” he asked.
“That,” replied the mother, “is something no one can figure out.”
“Can you please tell me a story?” asked the boy.
“Sure, but first, can you tell me how deep the gutter is in the small street where you go to school?”
“It’s about half the height of my tall boots,” replied the boy. “But I have to stand in the deepest puddles to measure it.”
“Ah, now we understand how your feet got wet,” said the old man. “I should tell you a story, but the problem is, I don’t know any more stories.”
“You can create one yourself,” said the little boy. “Mom says you can make up a fairy tale about anything you see or touch.”
“That’s nice, but those made-up tales or stories aren’t really good! The best ones just appear in my mind and say, ‘Knock-knock! I am here!’”
“Will a tale come knocking soon?” asked the boy eagerly, and the mother smiled as she added elder-tree blossoms into the teapot and poured hot water over them. “Please, tell me a story.”
“Yes, if stories just appeared on their own; they are quite picky and only come when they feel like it. But wait,” he suddenly exclaimed, “there’s one right now. Look at the teapot; there’s a story inside it at this very moment.”
The little boy gazed at the teapot, and something magical happened. The lid slowly lifted, and one by one, fresh and white elder-tree blossoms popped out. They grew into long branches that sprouted in all directions, even from the spout! Before he knew it, a bush appeared, transforming into a big elder tree. Its branches reached up to the boy’s bed and gently moved the curtains aside. The tree was covered in countless blossoms, filling the air with a delightful scent. In the center of the tree sat a kind-looking old woman, dressed in a peculiar outfit. Her dress was as green as the leaves and adorned with large white blossoms. It was hard to tell whether it was made of real cloth or the actual leaves and blossoms of the elder tree.
“What is the lady’s name?” inquired the little boy.
“Hmm,” pondered the old man, “in ancient times, the Romans and Greeks referred to her as a Dryad, but we don’t really use that term anymore. In the neighborhood where sailors live, they have a nicer name for her: they call her the mother of the elder tree. Now, you must listen carefully to her and admire the lovely elder tree.”
