Wynter's Tales

Nattie’s Birthday

From the time when all was green and before war raged as crowns were fought and treasures discovered.

Spring was here. Trees were showing signs of rebirth as leaves once rusty brown and wine red disappeared. Returning in shimmering shades of sage to emerald greens. With ruby ones scattered here and there. Apple and Cherry Blossom added colour to a sky of pale blue. As the days grew longer, the air grew lighter. It was a time for Maypole dancing, May Queens, and fires burning brightly against the night sky in celebration of fertile land. A time for birthday parties.

For the unseen inhabitants of Gwaine Wood it was no different. Their chatter all a flow when they stepped outside of their homes as they caught up on gossip with neighbours, and friends rarely seen during the long, wet winter.

In a cottage made from hazelwood, lived Molly Owl. Strands of silver blended bronze hair flew free of its confines, leaving wispy tendrils framing her round face as she flittered about her home making preparations to celebrate her good friend, Nattie Toad’s birthday.

Molly stepped outside; her gaze returned to the table. The lemon cake a delight amongst the red glasses and scattered acorns. Then she turned her attention to the house and climbed the ladder to pin the banner above the door. Her thoughts busy fussing over the kitchen sink. She shook her head. It was a mess. Bowls, and sticky spoons sat on the draining board waiting to be washed. Evidence of yesterday’s and this morning’s bedlam in her kitchen.

There was dusting of icing powder, which she had mixed with soft cheese and butter for the buttercream, over the counter. Discarded desiccated coconut lay scattered on the floor from when she made Nattie’s favourite lemon and coconut cake with a splash of peppermint. Breadcrumbs lay abandoned on the breadboard, created when she made the cheese and pickle sandwiches for Jorge, who enjoyed the tang of a good vintage cheese. Oh, she had a hoot as she whipped sugar and butter until it was creamy and fluffy. Splitting eggs, keeping yokes separate from the white had been quite a challenge, but she had managed it.  The shells of eggs lay on the counter, waiting to be disposed into the compost pot.

Once the yokes were blended, she dropped the yellow gloopy concoction in with the butter and sugar. Added flour with a dash of baking powder and desiccated coconut. The mixture had blended quick. Unable to resist, she had a sneaky lick. The lemon coconut batter made her tongue twitched in a delightful tingle. Then she tilted in whisked egg white, added a drop of milk, The batter was perfect, now was the time to slip the cake into the oven. As the cake baked, her kitchen grew warm. The aroma of lemons and coconut filled her home.

She had not slept much as she was late to bed, then up at the crack of dawn. Floors swept, pillows fluffed, and curtains shook. Bluebells gathered, and chairs set in the garden ready for her party guests.

Molly returned to the house, removed freshly made lemonade, Tristan Toad, Nattie’s nephew, favoured, from the fridge. As she approached the garden table, laden with party food, the garden gate bell tinkled as it opened. The chatter of voices full of excitement, caught her attention. Oh, blast, she was not quite ready, and her guests were early. There was no time to wash the dishes as she switched to hostess mode. They would have to wait until everyone left. There would be no early night for Molly as she tackled the cleaning.

Nattie wore her favourite baseball cap. Jorge Fox wore wellies for it rained during the night, leaving the ground littered with small puddles he loved to splash. Nellie, smiled as she handed Molly a bowl of trifle and cream, Molly hooted for the trifle was sure to be splashed with a dash of sherry.

“I do love Christmas,” Nattie said.

“We’ve only just welcomed in the spring and enjoyed a dance around the Maypole. Don’t you think it’s too early to mention the C word?” Jorge asked. “We have The Summer Solstice, The Autumn Equinox, and Samhain to celebrate. What a delight that will be,” he said. “I’m already making plans. Keep them free my friends. For we’ll have heaps to do.”

“I know. But it’s all those twinkling lights I love. The pond looks a treat the way they reflect in the water. And the dragonflies and damesflies skittering over the water’s surface.” Nattie said. “It was nice, siting by the pond as I ate my tea last night.”

“You have your garden lights up all year, Nattie,” Molly said.

“And the store will get busier. We must make sure all the cards and gifts are on display,” Nellie said.

“Can I come look at the shop when you have the tree up,” Tristan Toad asked, stepping through the gate, with Gwen the crow, on his shoulder.

“You can help Tris. You’ll have fun and we’ll sing a song,” Nellie said. “But it’ll not be for a long time.” Then she smiled at Nattie. “And talking of gifts. Close your eyes, Nattie. I’ll bring your present through.”

“Well, it wasn’t from all the hints you kept dropping, and that you kept removing the figurine off the shelf before we could sell it,” Nellie said.

Nattie smiled, “It’ll look pretty on my bookcase. Keeping all my books in place

Tristan glanced up, his mouth full of jam and cream, from freshly baked scones Molly spent the morning making. “Are we going to the Midsummer Parade?” he asked.

Nattie wiped the cream that hung at the corner of her nephew’s mouth. “Of course. What else would we do?” she asked.

“Will we have a stall at the fate this year?” Molly asked.

Nellie shook her head. “I think, this year we should have fun, and join in the games. What do you think?”

“And the store,” Nattie asked. “Will it be closed?”

“We’ll close early. We don't want to lose too much trade as I’ve decided not to open the next day. Now let's stop talking shop,” Nellie said.

“Nattie, how's your birthday going??” Molly asked.

“Divine, Lavender Rose, and Eabha called for breakfast. We had fried kippers, eggs, and mushroom.” Nattie frowned. “There are rumours not all the spirits from Beltane who failed to return to their homes, were captured,” she said.

“Nonsense. They were all caught.” Molly said. It had taken her several days to recover from the chase the pucas gave.

As a breeze passed over Molly, she shivered. The winter had been long, and hard, and she and her friends had spent little time outside. Although spring was here, and hopefully the heavy rains of the past months were over until the end of the year, and the sun shinned, there was still a nip in the air.

“And how was Lavender Rose?” Molly asked, turning the conversation away from the shadows dancing just out of sight.

“The same. She's expecting the twins to visit during Mid-Summer.”

“That will be chaotic,” Nellie said.

“Can I play with them when they visit?” Tristan asked.

Nattie smiled at her nephew. His round, amber flecked eyes alight with intended mischief “No going topside,” Nattie said.

Tristan said, as he bit into a strawberry bun. Cream oozing over the side. “We didn't mean to go topside last time.”

“So, you say,” Nattie said.

“Can we come to the store and help?” Tristan asked.

Nellie glanced at the sky, and the conversation around her faded. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and as it hid, the sky went dull and the shadow behind the rosebush, peeked out. His smile wide as he stared at her. Nellie shrugged, Lavander Rose was right. Not all the shadows had been caught. The longer they stayed, the stronger they became. No longer staying hidden as they grew bolder. No longer were they the things of the night. “Molly, have you had any trouble recently?” she asked.

Molly watched the sun emerge from behind the cloud. The garden brightening once more. Then she glanced over to the rosebush. It was not in bloom, but the leaves were thick. Soon it would flower, and more colours would blaze through her garden. “There's been no trouble since Beltane.” she said.

Molly glanced at Jorge, who nodded as he chewed on a cheese and pickle sandwich. Then she turned her attention to Nellie. “We caught them all,” she said.

“You know we did,” Jorge said, swallowing the bread. “Spent a week chasing the blighters.” Then he reached for a glass of lemonade.

“I'm not so sure,” Nellie said, rising from her seat, taking a step to the rosebush. As she peered behind it, there was not much to see, but the dandelion covered verge. Then she returned to her seat. “You would say something. Wouldn't you Molly?” she said.

Molly watched a white butterfly flutter from bush to tree. Then it flew over the table, hovering briefly over the lemon cake. But did not stop before it floated high into the sky, leaving the late afternoon in its wake. “You know I would. But all has been quiet this past week.”

Nattie tapped her fork on her plate. Then looked at her companions. “When I was closing the store last night, I would have sworn I turned off the back storeroom lights and closed the door. But as I turned the key in the main door, I discovered it was still on. I had to go back inside.” Nattie frowned. “And that was not all. I planned to wear the blue dress today. The one with the daisy buckle belt. When I removed it from the wardrobe this morning. The zip was jammed, and there was no time to fix it.” Nattie pointed to the floral dress she wore. “I ended up wearing my second-best dress.”

“Maybe, whoever turned the lights on, ate all the blueberries.” Tristan said.

Nattie glanced at Tristan and shook her head. “No. We know who ate all the blueberries. The evidence was on their lips,” she said.

Tristan smiled, showing his teeth “Hey, they planted evidence.” he said. “Or made the perp, I mean victim, eat them.”

Nellie chuckled just as there was a loud clattering. As she turned, Molly jumped up from her seat. The long ladders she had propped against the house wall, had fallen.

Tristan jumped down from his seat and ran over to the rosebush. On his knees, he peered behind the leaves. “I'm good at hide and seek. I'll find them,” he said. Then he jogged to the ladder. But nothing could be seen. With his hands hooked behind his back, he paced up and down the length of the fallen ladder. Soft laughter filtered through the garden, and the shadow on the wall lengthened.

Nellie grabbed Nattie’s hand as Molly grabbed the old, galvanised bucket., tipping rainwater out as she stepped closer to the house. Nellie and Nattie walked beside her. When they reached the ladder, they split. Nellie strolled to the top, Nattie to the centre, and Molly to the bottom. “Now.” Nellie said.

With her gaze on the rungs, Molly raised the bucket, and as hard as she could, with the open end of the bucket facing the ground, she trapped the mischief-maker. As the bucket shook and slid, Molly sat on the bucket, then smiled at her friends. “I have him,” she said. The joy in her voice rang clear in the garden, and Nellie and Nattie joined her. “What now?” she asked as the racket in the bucket grew louder, shaking violently beneath her. Her body jerked left, then right. Then left again as the bucket shuffled from side to side.

“Sit tight. I’ll be right back,” Jorge said, glancing at Molly before dashing into the kitchen.

Nattie peered at the bucket as she shook her head. “To think, I could have caught him last night and been able to wear my blue dress,” she said.

Molly scowled at Nattie as the bucket rose. Then reached out and pulled her friend on to her knee. The bucket landed with a clang on the ground and continued to shake. “Where’s Jorge?” she asked.

“Here he is,” Nellie said as Jorge came into view, waving a large green bottle at his friends.

When Jorge reached Molly and Nattie, he dropped to his knees. Tristan joined him, peering beneath the bucket as Molly and Nattie stood, raising the bucket slightly. Jorge slipped the neck of the bottle under the bucket. Drawn by the smell of honey, the light green bottle darkened as the shadow slipped in. When there was no more shadow to see, Jorge slipped the lid on, clamping it tight over the bottle neck. Then the three women rose, staring at the bottle, listening to it as it moaned.

“What now Aunt Nattie?” Tristan asked.

Nellie smiled at Tristan. “He stays in the bottle until Samhain. Then we’ll slip him back home with the others

©Wynter B Aodh

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The Owl Toad Mole Publishing House™

BT66 8EY 2025 ©