“When I was young” Old Lop Ears said “the world was full of tales. Some happy, some sad but all treasured by the teller and the listener”. As usual on the holidays all the animals had gathered by the barn door. Each creature hoped that Old Lop Ears would tell their favourite story. “Here’s a tale that showed me that people have stories too. Listen closely and you will understand how things change in beautiful ways.. In a corner of the universe, not so far from here and now, lived and loved the princess with the rose-petal heart. Long ago when the chill winds blew her from there to here and back again she felt the worm of doubt gnaw at the bud she carried locked inside her chest. The giants of storm and calm ruled her young life and she danced between the shadow and the light looking for a place to play. High in the castle was her special place. It was filled with all the books she loved and the pictures she took. This was where she kept her things: snapshots of happy memories and imagined places. Her dreams, of what could be: wrapped in blankets of secrets and put in her twice locked box. The giants never knew what she hid from them and very rarely even thought about what she might want. The taller she grew the bigger her pile of woes grew. Words of pain and nasty names filled her little life but in her heart the rose bud pushed up looking for the sun. Years passed to fast and as she grew the rose in her heart felt like it would never open to the sun. One day, whilst the giants slept, she crept into the garden and saw the most amazing sight bushes and trees shaped like all the creatures she had read about in her books. Running barefoot from tree to tree she marvelled at this strange display and felt the petals in her heart stir and begin to open. “Who could have created such magic?” she asked herself. “How can this be true in a place so close to dark and cold?” She reached her trembling hand out to touch the conifer cat and nearly cleared its top when a voice spoke to her. “Well are you a princess or a gardener? Walking barefoot in my garden and holding that young flower in your heart.” Knowing that trees can’t talk no matter what shape they are she tiptoed around and saw the funniest little man. Dressed in black from head to toe except for a little piece of white by his throat he barely came up to her chest. “Well are you going to answer me? Who are you and what are you doing in my garden?” he said, throwing her a strangely comforting look. Taking her courage in her hand she said, “I am the princess with the rose-petal heart”. “Well you don’t look much like a princess to me with your bare feet and tangled hair” he replied. “So I’m a little untidy. You are just little!” she cried, her delicate petals curling with the imagined slight. “Now, now has your rose got thorns? You come along with me and I will teach you how to snip and prune. Shape and bend. Till everything around you is as beautiful as this garden” he laughed. With only a moments hesitation she took his hand and together they set off. Leaving behind the giants of calm and storm and headed into the sunny lane. For the rest of that year and a year to come they tended gardens and walked side by side. As if by magic the gardener was no longer short and funny but grew tall and handsome. Little by little the rose in her heart grew ripe and full. Its petals still delicate but tinged with the colours of joy and love. Never had she been so happy. “Happy is as happy does” the storytellers say and so by and by the princess began to feel uneasy. “Why do we have to twist and shape everything in the garden?” she said. “Because that’s the way I was told it should be” said the gardener. “‘Please can we leave a patch of wildflower to greet the sun” she pleaded. “Bend and shape, prune and snip, sometime soon you’ll lose this itch” the gardener sang. So on and on the journey went her heart growing heavier at every step. In her heart the petals began to curl up and fall. One night by the fire she slipped into an uneasy sleep. Her dreams were full of strange gardens full of flowers and trees reaching towards the sky with limber limbs. Clear lawns peppered with birdsong, winding paths leading to secret places. “This feels so familiar” she thought to herself “I wonder where I am”. “This is the garden of your hearts desire” a woody voice spoke from inside a tree. “This is the garden of infinite possibility.” the brook babbled in joy. “This is the garden where winter reigns only to strengthen our hearts.” the birds sang far above. “This is home.” her rose-petaled heart wept. With a start she awoke beside the gardener tall and true. Telling him of her dream over breakfast she asked him what it meant. “Bend and shape, prune and snip, sometime soon you’ll lose this itch” the gardener laughed “That’s just the garden tempting you to let it be. Stay close and I will keep the dream from you”. Slipping into slumber after dinner she found herself back in the garden. Remembering the gardener’s words she forced herself awake. “I won’t be tempted, let me be.” she cried. But night after night the dream came. A season passed and then one more, our princess could not take it anymore. In her dreams the garden grew, each flower blessed by morning dew. Waking in the early morning light, she decided to see if she could find her garden. Taking her leave of the gardener she said “I must find my own space far from here and plant a garden free of fear.” Turning from her teary eyed he begged her to reconsider. “Bend and shape, prune and snip, sometime soon you’ll lose this itch. Letting a garden grow and spread is wrong,” he said “there are ways and ways and yours is bad. Leave my sight and never expect me to look into your garden”. His words were as sharp as pruning shears and her rose petal heart felt like it would die. From town to town and ditch to crown our princess travelled looking for the garden in her dreams. Nothing seemed like she had dreamed and everywhere she looked she saw gardens trained and gardens wild each tended, or not, by thoughtful hands and well meaning hearts. From each gardener true she took a piece of knowledge and a clever cutting. And her heart still struggled to open. One morning she saw a young man weeding and tending a small piece of land. The farmer’s back was broad and strong and in his laugh she heard warmth and care. “So my princess what can I do for you?” he said. “I’m no prince but my heart is true and if you like I’ll walk with you”. Laying her things on the ground she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It’s been such a long walk and still I have not found my garden” she explained. “I don’t know much about gardening” he said” but if you like I’ll give you part of my farm down by the river and next to the hill. It’s no good for cereals and such but maybe you can make it flower”. So our princess came home. Side by side with the farmer she worked to make their farm and by the river her garden began to grow. Like all good stories this one has a happy ending, of sorts, at least for here and now. The farmer prince and the gardener princess married and in time started a family. In her heart the roses bloomed and everything was well. Our brave princess had found her path and soon came into the garden of her dream. But still at times her heart was full of pain when she remembered the gardener’s last words to her. “Maybe when spring comes his heart will thaw and he will look into my garden” she said “Maybe when the spring comes my heart will blossom again in his eyes”. A season past and then one more, our princess ceased watching by the door. Everything in her garden grew strong and true. When the frost came it was tempered by her love. When chill winds blew she protected the flowers with her care. As word of her skill and knowledge spread people came to her for advice and such. Cuttings from her garden began to appear in gardens all over the land and in her heart roses bloomed and bloomed again bathed in the love of those close to her. Her garden lived in her dreams and in her world. Sometimes she could not believe how wishing had made it so. But still she wanted the gardener to look at her with joy. She wrote him once then once again but our proud gardener never came. He sent his message in this rhyme “Bend and shape, prune and snip, sometime soon you’ll lose this itch.” Like a worm the rhyme grew strong blighting the delicate petals of her heart. As it grew stronger her garden began to wither. Powerless to stop this blight those around her said she must fight. But how could she fight when her heart still loved the gentle spirit and strong hands of the man who saved her from the giants care? Sleepless night and daytime blight seemed to be all she could expect. So unable to make things right she started planning her flight. “I’ll leave this place and plant anew, beyond the hills and over the ocean,” she thought. Weary and worn she made plans to hide but all the time the hurt was inside. Her husband tried to comfort her worry; her children could not understand her tears. One night so tired she could no longer stay awake she slipped once more into dream filled sleep. In the garden of her dreams she could hear the birds’ song and see the flowers dance, listen to the colours change and taste the breeze. But in the distance she could hear the gardener’s voice, “Bend and shape, prune and snip, sometime soon you’ll lose this itch.” “No, no” she cried “My garden grows strong and true and for this place I don’t need you. I offered twice then twice again yet still you wouldn’t come and tend.” As the words echoed on the breeze she felt a sense of what was to come. Lovingly she planted a tree in memory of his care, knowing it would grow strong and shelter others. Gently she whispered his name on the breeze so any passing angels would know that she had released him to their care. Next morning awaking refreshed and safe she walked to the end of her garden and removed the gate. ‘Mummy where is the gate?” her youngest said, “How will we stop people wandering in?” “A garden’s no good if no one sees it my little one” she laughed, “Don’t worry about those who come seeking some shelter this place is specially planted for all of them”. “One day you will understand that not all people have what we have and gardens only grow when they are shared”. “Maybe one day he will wonder in just to see” she said to herself “but for now I will let him plant his gardens his way and I will carry on with mine” and as she let her tears drift away her rose petaled heart opened anew to welcome whatever happened next. “Make of it what you will.” Old Lop Ears said “Stories mean more than just the words and maybe for you the lesson is clear. If not just sleep and see what awakens with you in the morning”. Dragging himself up, he walked inside leaving everyone to their own thoughts.