Sylvania Day

It was the day after this year's Melting Festival and we'd had two days celebrating the beauty of the spring season and its connection to the Snow Queen. Although it had been immensely enjoyable we were tired out and had slept longer when we eventually retired to our beds. It had been a busy festival. 

I had been involved both in the preparation of and the participation in the musical aspects. I'd arranged vocal parts so that Sandro Lopez could teach his school choir. Although it's not my main instrument I am sufficiently competent on the piano accordion to accompany Isambard Marmalade on his guitar and to play for the country dancers.

The traditional bunny hunt - searching for chocolate eggs hidden around the woodland surrounding the village green, trying to win the prize of the big chocolate bunny - had been popular as usual. Given the experience of previous hunts, Eve Wildwood and the other organisers had refined the rules to try and remove loopholes. Even so, the team of Waters children won the main prize; their uncles had trained them well. A bigger surprise to me (and to Cecile) was that our children had worked together and earned third prize. Brendan, Orton, Lucky Snow-Warren, Nolly Persis, Hughie Grunt, Figwort and Chervil Ivory had worked one side of the green. The other side of the green was worked by Beverley, Biddie, Lena Dandelion, Aster and Anise Ivory plus Lisa and Sophie Snow-Warren. Fourteen children meant that portions of the prize were diminished somewhat. Beverley saw our faces and explained their elation with a single word. "Prestige".

We kept awake long enough to conclude the day with the traditional melted chocolate, sugared bread sticks and mugs of milk, but only just.

As I said at the outset, it was the day after the festival. We allowed the children to sleep late whilst Cecile and I relaxed in the kitchen, still in our night clothes. 

We thought we'd have some quiet time together but that wasn't as long as we thought. We were joined by young Orton, Snorker by his side..

"Auntie Cecile, Uncle Jack," he said, "I hope you can help me."

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"I know we have the Melting every year but it set me thinking," Orton began. "I've thought about it each year since I've been here, but I said nothing. I decided it was about time I did."

Cecile and I looked at each other. Had something been bothering the lad all this time? He answered our unspoken question immediately.  

"I've not mentioned it as I didn't want to hurt PapaMerle or Mummle. It relates to my Mamma and Dadda."

That made sense. His biological parents - Erika and Martyn Butterglove - had been lost following a shipwreck and that led to the boy coming to us and having my brother Merlin and his wife Eliza becoming his surrogate parents. He settled well and became firmly integrated into a loving extended family. When it later transpired that Erika and Martyn were alive and had elected not to return, we found it difficult to understand. Oddly, Orton understood better than any of us. We supposed he knew his parents best. The question was, why did they concern Orton now?

He didn't need prompting. Orton, remarkably mature for his age, had clearly planned how he was going to tell us about those concerns.

"I travelled all over the place with Mamma and Dadda. We went to look after rare plants and animals in lots of places. I saw how they supervised building special greenhouses and setting up conditions so that leekberry plants would thrive. I was there when they helped set up breeding programmes for swamp chindlings. And that's just two things. They did lots."

We knew the couple were highly dedicated to conservation and the preservation of the Sylvanian flora and fauna. Erika Burroughs was already quite famous in this regard before she met and married Martyn Butterglove. 

The birth of their son Orton barely affected their combined zeal to make a difference, protecting Sylvanian wildlife. It was the main reason they didn't return.

"Yes, they did lots," Orton continued. "It was even more obvious on Sylvania Day. Every year, without fail, we would go to the nearest village celebrating the day. It was a special occasion. We didn't do Christmas or anything like that but we did celebrate Sylvania Day. Mamma and Dadda had written down everything they'd achieved over the year and  they shared the good news with the village. It was lovely. I was proud of them."

He stopped. He was clearly remembering those special times with his parents.

Cecile spoke gently to the lad. "It sounds lovely, dear. Why would you think mentioning it might hurt your papa Merlin or mummy Eliza?"

"Well... we don't seem to celebrate Sylvania Day in Mellowdene. It makes it harder to slip into conversation. It's the time I miss Mamma and Dadda the most. But I don't want to make it seem like I'm unhappy here. I love Mummle and PapaMerle."

"Oh you poor thing," said Cecile, giving him a hug. "I suppose the Melting reminds you of what you're  missing on Sylvania Day. But you should never be afraid of talking about your Mamma and Dadda. Merlin and Eliza would understand."

"I don't want to leave Mellowdene. I'd hate for them to think I want to go back to Mamma and Dadda. You don't think me mentioning Sylvania Day would do that?"

"Not a chance," I said. "You said you love your Mummle and PapaMerle? Well, we know they love you too. We all love you, Orton. If you want to celebrate Sylvania Day, we all will."

"Really?"

"Definitely. The fact Mellowdene doesn't make a big deal out of Sylvania Day doesn't mean we care any less about the environment. We could probably argue how Mellowdene cares a great deal about it. We don't burn coal and our cars don't use petrol; we have fireglass.  We light up our streets and houses with sparkfly technology. Our fridges don't need power because we use coolsalt. Thanks to your Uncle Newton's connection to the Sylvanian Research Group, the village's waste management site uses machines that process our waste cleanly. We could probably write a list of lots of things like that."

"I suppose so," said Orton.

"Maybe we could do that, highlighting what we do as our reason to be grateful next Mellowdene Day. But why wait? How would you like to celebrate Sylvania Day? Something to make your Mamma and Dadda proud?"

"We could read something from Mamma's books," he said referring to the numerous published tomes by Erika Burroughs. "Are you sure it wouldn't hurt Mummle or PapaMerle?" 

"Do you really think your Papa Merlin would object to reading anything?" said Cecile, giving the boy a playful nudge.

Orton chuckled. "No."

"Do you want us to have a word with your Papa first?"   

"Would you do that?"

"Happy to, but only if you want. Either way we can't have you worrying every year."

"Oh, I don't worry too long. I always give Snorker a cuddle and he makes his kissy noises. Everything is fine soon afterwards."

What a sensible little lad. We nodded in understanding. Eliza's pet mountain hog helped settle Orton upon his arrival in Mellowdene. Most assuredly part of the family, we're quite aware how Snorker is capable of putting minds at rest. He sleeps next to Orton's bed and welcomes cuddles at any time.

Actually, it occurred to me that Orton's attitude towards his birth parents was more mature than mine. Mellowdene might be at the forefront of some aspects of protecting  the environment but there were other aspects to preserving Sylvania. Erika and Martyn Butterglove were actively helping rare creatures and plant life to survive. If Orton was comfortable with their choices, who was I to think less of them? Clearly Sylvania Day was his way of balancing their achievements against their responsibilities for him. 

 

As Orton left, I turned to Cecile. "I suppose I should know. When is Sylvania Day?"

The look I received in response spoke volumes. 

"Never mind. I'll find out."

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