There’s a lesser-known fairy tale than some more familiar ones in which a sweet young girl shares a cake with an old woman she meets at the well. Turns out that the old woman has magic powers (of course she does, it’s a fairy tale) and is so grateful for the young woman’s generosity that she casts a spell so that when the young girl breathes, roses fall from her mouth and when she walks violets spring up from the ground.
It’s a lovely fairy tale but I’m a wysiwyg kind of person. You know, what you see is what you get. I take things literally. So all I could think when I first heard the fairy tale, was: flowers everywhere?
Don’t know if I’d care for that, no matter how well-intentioned. I mean, wouldn’t you get tired of the same old flowers all the time? And the same scents, day in and day out?
And doesn’t it sound kind of messy? Just imagine trying to pop into a store quickly for a jug of milk and hearing “clean up on aisle 9” every single time!
I’m thinking the poor girl ended up living alone in the forest, away from people who surely chased her there when their houses, yards and streets were buried beneath all those flowers.
And I suspect she’s still there, waiting for her Prince Charming to come, kiss her, and release her from that witch’s spell.
After all, it is a fairy tale.