He had bought a farm that was
ploughed and planted. There had been no stones for him to dig out and
take away.
"That would be a fine field to play in," said the children as they
passed by on their way to school, "only it is too rough. It would hurt
our feet."
"If only something could be raised in the field," said the people who
had houses close by. "Then we should be sure of having food for the
winter."
But no one paid any further attention to the field.
There was a secret about it, though.
The field was alive. Deep down in its earth, under its thick clods and
heavy stones, the field had a great wish to grow. And to grow, the
field must be clean, so it called to Mother Nature for help. Mother
Nature spoke to her winds about it.
"Four Winds," she said, "will you sweep the field clean, and so help
it to grow?"
The winds heard Mother Nature calling and they got out their four
brooms and swept the field as clean as they could. But that was not
enough. The field must be rich as well as clean before it could grow.
So the field called once more to Mother Nature, and Mother Nature
spoke to her trees.
"Trees of the roadside," she said, "will you give your leaves to cover
the field, and lose their beautiful colors, and become loam? The four
winds have swept the field clean, but it must be rich before it can
grow.
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