The Story of the Sunrise (and other related myths)

Why do leaves change and fall?

She was a girl of beauty and grace. Her face was seldom without smile and her step rarely without bounce. She spread joy and love to all around her in the way only a girl of myth ever could. Those who saw her remembered her light as much as they did her exquisite beauty.

In town, she knew everyone, but she was most friendly with a young gardener boy. She would sit on the steps of his shop and talk the day away. He would listen to the melody of her voice and thread flowers into her hair as he waited for customers. They spent long afternoons with only each other and the trees watching over them as they fell in love.

It was a cool fall day, and the trees hung above them in startling shades of green. As she danced through the forest on her way to town, the trees cast the sun across her skin in emerald rays. She had always seemed glow, but today she was radiant.

The gardener boy was waiting for her in town. He stood in front of his own shop rather than within it. When she looked at him, she knew that today was going to be different. Her heart picked up its pace and the bright leaves ruffled above her.

The garden boy dropped to one knee, and a smile split her face. She fell into his arms and melted into the world's most perfect kiss. When the trees saw their passion and love, they could not help but blush. On that fall afternoon, every leave on every tree changed color for the first time, their cheeks rosy with the sight of true love.

The gardener boy built her a beautiful home, surrounded by flowers and trees. They sat on the steps together every night and talked with all the love of a much older couple. The leaves on the trees sparkled in their bright ruby tones, and for a few blissful weeks all was perfect.

As the fall turned to winter and the air turned harsh and cold, the gardener boy grew sick. As the first snowfall coated the land, offsetting the red of the trees in a painful contrast, he lay in bed. He could hardly move from his bed, and his body only grew more still. His wife cared for him and looked after him, but there was nothing that could be done.

That winter, he died. His wife felt as though she too had been killed.

The trees of their forest grieved the dear gardener and dropped their leaves. Red leaves coated the ground like blood as the cries of a widow pierced the air.The same leaves rotted alongside the body of the gardener, turning brown and then to dust as the days grew warmer.

With every year that passed, the memory of the gardener become dimmer. The people in the town forgot, but his wife would never forget, and the trees that guided her home would never forget. Every year, she would cry on his grave. Every year the tress would blush in the autumn of their engagement and drop their leaves in the winter of his death.

Some day, the girl would die. Her body would be laid beside the gardener to honor him only in their closeness. The trees would outlast her, cycling through their emotions every day to this very day.