Burdock and the Orgs

Once upon a time in the Year One, there lived a family of Cavepeople named Org.  There was the mother, Organic, a superb gardener; the father, Organism, a skilled hunter; their oldest daughter, Organizer, who kept all their lives running on schedule; their next daughter, Organza, who made all their clothes; their son Organ, an aspiring musician; their little baby daughter Organelle; and their Swedish cousin, SmOrgasbOrg, the cook.

The Orgs lived in a big cave decorated with bunches of flowers from Organic’s garden, lit with candles created with wax from wild honeybees Organism had found, and warmed by the big fire which heated SmOrgasbOrg’s stewpot – a cauldorm forever bubbling away with some sort of wonderful stew made from the food the family hunted and grew.

Always mingling with the tempting smells of SmOrgasbOrg’s cooking were the sounds of Organ’s music as he invented new instruments and made up songs.

Organizer made sure everyone knew what their chores were for the day, and wove grass baskets to keep things in so the cave would stay tidy.  Organza made clothes and bedding from Organism’s animal skins, and everyone helped Organic weed the garden.

Little Organelle just made everybody laugh.

One afternoon, as Organism sat on a rock watching Organelle play in the grass, he noticed that the sun wasn’t shining from high above the trees as it had a few weeks earlier, but was shining through the branches, definitely moving lower through the sky.

As the days went by, the whole family noticed that things were starting to change.  The dawn came a little later every morning, the sun crossed the sky at a lower angle, and set earlier every evening.  Organic mentioned that despite all her hard work and care, many of her flowers had stopped blooming and the plants had stopped producing food.  Parts of her garden, she added, were even dying off.

Organism said that a few days before, he’d seen a flock of geese take off from their home in a nearby lake and hadn’t seen them since.  Other animals, too, were starting to disappear.

Organizer noted that there was no more long grass to make baskets, and Organ noticed that all the leaves were turning colors and falling off the trees.  Organza said it was hard to make clothes that kept out the cold wind that had started blowing lately.

The Org family began to worry that maybe Year One was the only year there would be.  Perhaps someday soon, the sun would go down below the horizon and never come up again.

And it started to look as if maybe their worst fears were coming true.  One by one, the days grew shorter and colder.  They woke up one morning, opened the big fur that covered the opening to the cave, and saw that the whole world had turned white.  Going outside, they found that the white stuff covering everything was cold!  So cold it burned their bare feet and made their hands sting.  This scared them even more, and one by one, they retreated to their own corners of the cave.  Organsim decided not to hunt that day.  Organza didn’t make anything new.  Organic didn’t even bother to go look at the garden.  Organ put away his instruments.  Organizer didn’t scold anyone for not sticking to the schedule.  SmOrgasbOrg let the fire under the kettle go out.  Little Organelle just whimpered in the cold. 

Without the family stew to nourish them, each Org took what little food he or she had and hid it in their own secret part of the cave where nobody else could find it.

The days got shorter and darker.  One day it seemed as if there might not be any sun at all.  Miserable, cold, and hungry, the Orgs sunk lower into their dirty, worn-out furs, and waited for the end of the world.

Suddenly the big bearskin flap flew open and in strode the most extraordinary man the Orgs had ever seen.  He had a huge shock of white hair on his head, a great bushy white beard, and sparkly blue eyes that seemed to glow with a light of their own.

He wore tall, fur-trimmed leather boots, a bright red tunic cinched with a leather belt, and a wonderful fur-lined cape that billowed around him as he walked.  He carried a long staff and a big, lumpy sack, which he set down with a “Humph!”  The man took a look around the poor, neglected cave and peered over at the cowering Orgs, noting the fearful, hungry look in their eyes.  He let out another, “Humph!” and walked back out the door.

Before the Orgs could even wonder if they’d dreamed him up, the man came back in with his arms full of firewood, and proceeded to make the largest bonfire those cave people had ever seen.  Then he reached outside the door of the cave, scooped up a bunch of the white stuff, tossed it in the stewpot, and set the pot right on the fire.

Steam rose from the pot, as the fire’s bright glow and sweet heat filled the cave.

The man reached into his great bag and pulled out a couple large potatoes.  He whisked a big knife from his belt, chopped up the potatoes, and tossed them in the pot.

The steam started to smell sort of good, and the Orgs peeked their heads up a little bit more.

The man took a taste of the stewpot’s contents and said, to nobody in particular, “Well, this sure is good, but I wish I had a couple of carrots to toss in here.”

SmOrgasbOrg blinked twice and then shyly crept forward and offered up some carrots.  “Well, thank you!” said the man who chopped them up and threw them in the pot.  Not to be outdone, Organizer came forward with some beets and was met with a loud, “Yum!” from the man.  Organic jumped up and threw in a bunch of dried herbs.  “How gourmet!” said the man.  Organism tossed in a hunk of meat and the stew was really bubbling and burbling now.  Organza ran outside and came back with more wood for the fire.  Organelle giggled with delight.  Organ took out a wooden flute and started playing a little tune, and suddenly the whole family found themselves gathered around the fire, laughing and singing and tasting the stew, adding ingredients and burning their tongues.

Finally SmOrgasbOrg (who had taken over the meal preparation) declared the stew ready and dished out huge portions for everyone, including their mysterious guest.

When everyone had eaten their fill, Organism turned to the big bearded stranger and said, “Thank you, friend.  Thank you so much.  But who are you?”

“Ah,” said the man with a smile, “I am a traveler.  I come from the other side of the world.  In my journeys I have visited many places, and in each distant land, I have earned a new name.”

“In one part of the world, I visited a remote village in a valley hidden amidst many tall mountains made of a shiny silver-colored metal called nickel.  The mountains were so slippery going up, that coming down, I knew I would never be able to walk it.  So I just sat on my cape, tucked up my heels, and WHOOSH! slid all the way into the village square.”

“The people there were loud and jolly, and laughed at the fact that the back of my robe was all covered with nickel from the slide.  But they also decided that since nobody had ever made it over the mountains before, I must be a blessed, holy man, and so from then on, they called me Saint Nickel Ass.”

“In another part of the world, trying to reach another remote village, I had to cross a huge desert.  The sand was so hot, it burned off my boots.  I walked for many days and my toenails grew so long and sharp from rubbing in the sand that they looked like claws.  I had no water to wash with and when I finally reached the village, I was a mess.  In particular, my feet were so dirty and my toenails so long and disgusting that they dubbed me Sandy Claws right then and there.”

“Here, in this land of green, rocky mountains, I keep getting my hair and beard and cloak all tangled up in these huge, burry weeds you have, so before you think of anything worse, you can call me Burdock.”

“Welcome, Burdock!” said Organic, “But you still haven’t told us why you’re here on this cold, dark day.  A day, I fear, that might be the very last one.”

“Well!” said Burdock, “It’s not!  I am here because I know something important.  I know that every season changes and that the sun is coming back.”  Burdock smiled a smile as bright and warm as the midsummer sun.

“Be not afraid.  Today is the shortest day of the year.”

Then Burdock took the Org family outside and with a mighty heave, thrust his staff into the ground.

“Look,” he said, “at the long shadow cast by the weak, winter sun.  But wait, and watch.  I promise you that as the days go by, and they will go by, the sun will rise higher in the sky, and the shadow will grow shorter, and warmth and life will return to the land.”

“Everything in this world moves in cycles.  The warm days will fade into cold, and the cold into warm.  But I promise, the cycles will continue.”

“This shortest day,” said Organizer, “Does it have a name?”

“Yes it does!  A name it shares with the longest day way on the other side of the year.  The day is called Solstice.”

“Take time,” said Burdock, “to honor the Solstice, the length of the days, the beauty of the changing seasons.  Live in gratitude for the wonderful life you lead – your music, the plants, the animals, your creativity, your home, and each other.  And…” Burdock paused as he swung his sack on his back, adjusted his cape, and headed off toward the mountains in the distance, “don’t ever let the fire go out.”

The End