The Golden Pear

The Golden Pear

The path to the cave started at the edge of a field. She had been journeying along it for several weeks now, sticking to the softly tilled furrows, doing her best to avoid the tender plants. At first, there was a black expanse of damp earth stretching out before her. The farmer having refreshed the soil in early spring with a slice and roll of the blades he drew behind his tractor; Laurel’s booted feet sunk nicely into the soil.

As the days passed, tiny light green shoots appeared. Then bigger and bigger plants, until finally what was before her today. A field of shimmering soybeans, dark green and plump, clinging to raindrop covered leaves. Laurel had been travelling through the field every day, rain or sunshine, it was no matter to her.

She had to memorize the route because Laurel was about to give herself the ultimate test.

The map had been carefully folded and put away in a book with an unremarkable brown cover. This book was then placed on a shelf in the overloaded library which once belonged to Laurel’s grandfather. Stacks of volumes filled every available space. Dust motes danced past library windows, seemingly of their own minds. “You’re in our world now,” they taunted any who dare darken the doorway of their domain.

When she had discovered the plain volume secreting the map, it was a rainy Saturday. The power had flickered once, then twice, and quit. She found herself wandering into the library as she was in the house alone, save for her companion Harold, an elderly red McCaw parrot. She’d left him on his favourite perch by the window while she meandered through rooms that didn’t capture her interest. When she reached the library, she was drawn into the dimly lit space. The room had a low ceiling, with wood panelled walls and thick green velvet curtains. She pulled these open as much as possible to let whatever little light filtering through the rain clouds there was, into the room. Then she picked up a book from the middle of a stack that sat on a deep brown shelf near the large wooden desk where her grandfather had sat for so many hours of his life.

The wood of the desk was rubbed shiny and smooth in spots. In other places, it was lovingly nicked and worn by a generation or two of children. When her grandparents had passed, Laurel moved into the house, which she now shared with her sister Wendy and her two children Petal and Xander. Wendy’s husband worked on the oil rigs and was only home for short stays every few months. Living with Laurel had given Wendy an extra set of hands to help with the kids. It also kept Laurel from feeling lonely in the big old home.

Placing the book on the desk, she carefully lifted the cover. On the front of the book was a worn cloth cover and it was difficult to read the stamped letters, which Laurel could only assume had once been adorned with gold. Inside, she found crisp paper, yellowed with age. The front page stated that this was a book about popular garden plants. She flipped through the pages, finding marginalia in her grandmother’s hand. Suddenly, the pages flipped open to near the centre. There Laurel found a sheet of paper, folded neatly into a square, it’s bulk thick enough to cause spontaneous page flipping once the pressure of the book’s cover had been released.

With a delicate touch, Laurel grasped the paper. It appeared as though it might crumble at any moment. As she separated one corner from the other, her nose filled with the scent of earth and dust. She sneezed.

As the paper revealed its secrets, Laurel found it was a map. She recognized the house where she now sat, and the farmer’s field beyond. She had never ventured much farther than the farmer’s field, that normally grew tall stalks of cattle corn. She hadn’t tried to walk through the field since becoming an adult. Now that she was over thirty, walking through corn stalks had less appeal than it used to. Her ankles, for one, didn’t appreciate the strain of maneuvering through the lumpy earth. Secondly, her dislike of milk snakes deterred her from any field crossing adventures. More recently, the farmer had begun to rotate the crops away from his annual corn harvest to alfalfa, hay, and soy. Her guess was that he was trying to enrich the soil with nitrogen before he planted corn again. Petal and Xander often played on the edges of the field, chasing mice and snakes.

What Laurel didn’t recognize was where the path on the map went once it left the field. It ran through a forest that lay at the back edge of the tilled earth, where she could remember she and Wendy venturing on occasion with their grandmother to gather wild mushrooms. Beyond that, the map showed a cave, which was marked with a circle and the word here written in the spidery hand of grandpa.

Laurel needed to know what her grandfather had meant by writing here on the map. The mystery had been consuming her thoughts ever since she’d found the old piece of parchment. It had taken her several trips to gather enough nerve to make it through the forest. She’d always been wary of the dark. Even though the day might be as sunny as any clear summer day, once she was inside the canopy of the trees, it became murky and claustrophobic. The light took on a haunting green hue that seemed to seep into her skin and change her from the inside out.

Today, was the day, however. She felt it. She was ready. Her knapsack was packed with what she thought she might need in the cave. A flashlight, headlamp, change of clothing, snacks, water, a copy of the map, rope, matches, and a rain jacket. Laurel said goodbye to her beloved parrot, stroking his bright feathers.

“I love you,” she said, kissing his beak.

“I love you, love you,” he cooed back to her.

Laurel slid her stockinged feet into tall orange gumboots. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly from her lungs. Today, everything changes. With a walking stick in hand and her pack secured to her back, she locked the door to her home behind her, and set off to find whatever there was to be found.

She hiked to the field. As she stepped into the furrow among the soy plants, the leaves sliding quietly along her boots with a slick whisper, Laurel’s breath began to fill and empty in time with this whisper. It was calming. Her mind began to wander into the clouds above her. Their fluffy white bodies cotton blankets for her psyche. Songbirds chirped in the forest that was quickly building before her eyes. She crested a hill, taking in the full splendour of the trees. Their emerald and citrine canopy stretched out for what seemed like forever. Her breath caught a little at the sight, the anticipation of what lay ahead palpable.

The field relented to untamed meadow near the tree-line. Wildflowers of glorious plums, yellow, fuchsia, and periwinkle dazzled her. Dancing ferns unfurled themselves for her eyes, their delicate, verdant fronds stepping in time with the slight breath of the breeze. She stopped a moment to gather her wits. She would make it to the other side today. Removing her sack, she grasped the map in her right hand, then fished out her jacket. Perhaps this would keep the calm feeling the clouds imparted in her bones and keep the green light out?

Her first steps into the forest were tentative. A game trail parted the ferns ever so slightly. As the trunks of birch, poplar, cedar, pine, stood tall and canopy closed in around her. Laurel forced herself to stop; to breathe in the fresh air. The gloomy green around her was, perhaps, not as bad as she had been anticipating. She heard a bird call, and a squirrel chatter in response. An acorn thunked into the soft earth near her foot. In the distance, the rush of a river tumbling over rocks could be heard.

Laurel returned to her map. Through the plastic sleeve applied over the paper, she could see the trail would lead her past the river and along its banks to a steep embankment. On the other side would be the cave entrance she’d been longing to find.

Zipping her coat up a bit higher, Laurel took another deep breath, reminding herself that there was nothing to fear. She pulled her hood up over her head to fend off the mosquitos that had found her among the tangle of branches and carpet of fallen leaves. She stepped out, and at least pretended, to feel confident she was going to find something fantastic today.

When Laurel made it to the river, she turned North, following the water as it swirled and bumped its way over rocks. Wildflowers and tall bulrushes grew along the banks. She caught a glimpse of a muskrat swimming back to its home. After what seemed like a long time, she reached the embankment. It was on the other side of the river. Looking for a way to cross, she found a fallen log. Gingerly, she stepped along it, doing her best not to slip on the slick bark. Mushrooms grew in the spray of the water and moss formed a green strip along the place where she was walking. It actually felt soft underfoot, which surprised her.

On the other side of the water, Laurel double backed slightly, to the spot where her grandfather’s map instructed her to descend. It was steep. Inspecting the area, she spotted an old handrail cobbled together from logs and branches. “Thanks, Grandpa,” Laurel said, and smiled. Grasping the first section or branch-turned-railing, it seemed like it had been there for quite some time, but it still felt sturdy. Running her eyes down it’s length, she could see vines had grown over some parts. No matter, it was there if she needed it. A few vines wouldn’t stop her now.

Down the path beside the railing she went. Some rocks slipped out from beneath her feet and plonked their way down the slope. The smell of fresh water faded and was replaced with a musty damp. She slipped her way down a few feet, and got her arm tangled in some vines, but otherwise, the trip down went well. At the bottom, she continued North again. The cave was only a few hundred metres away, now. Excitement rose in her chest. She couldn’t wait to see what surprises lay ahead.

***

Meanwhile, at Laurel’s house, Wendy and her children, had just arrived home.

“Laurel, we’re back,” Wendy called. “We got your favourite ice cream.” When there was no response, she shrugged, and then Wendy and her two children put the groceries away. Normally, whenever anyone went out, they left a note on the kitchen table, but there was no note today. Maybe she’d gone on one of her walks, Wendy thought. She decided not to worry.

When they’d eaten dinner and the sun was setting, she began to worry.

“Where’s Aunt Laurel,” Petal asked her mother.

“Do you think she’s okay,” Xander asked, fretting.

“I’m sure she’s fine. But I do wish I knew where she’s gone to,” Wendy said to her children. “What about you, Harold, what do you know?” She asked their lovely old parrot. He responded with a cooing sound, then took off from his perch, down the hall, into the library. The three looked at one another in surprise, and decided to follow him. Maybe he knew something after all?

In the library, Harold sat atop the worn desk, his foot placed on the old book which secreted the map. He flapped and squawked, stomping his little foot.

“I think there must be something in the book,” Xander said. Petal reached out and shooed Harold over enough so she could pick it up. She turned it so the pages opened downward and the folded map fluttered to the floor. Wendy stooped and picked it up. She unfolded it and placed it on the desk.

“A map,” Petal remarked.

“Look, that’s the field out back,” Xander said. Wendy pondered the map for a few moments, focusing on where her grandfather had written here.

“She’s gone to the caves,” Wendy spoke with certainty.

“There are caves near our house?” Xander sounded a bit incredulous at this discovery.

“Yes, but they are dangerous. At least, I think they are. I don’t know that for certain. I went with grandpa a couple times when I was a kid, but he never let me inside. He always came back with a basket of pears and I never understood how that would even be possible. I always assumed they were some kind of magic pears.”

“Magic pears?” Petal questioned her, disbelief in her voice.

Wendy shrugged, “I don’t know? I was just a kid. But, that’s what I remember.” Harold started squawking again and Wendy came back to the present moment.

“Okay kids, we are going to look for your aunt. Xander, pack some water, snacks, and a first aid kit. Petal, you grab as many flashlights, and headlamps as you can find. We all need to change into warmer clothes and put on some boots. We are going on an adventure.”

Off they went to collect up their items. Each had a backpack, and Wendy packed her cellphone. She tried calling Laurel before they set out, but there was no answer. The reception near the caves mustn’t be very good.

“Ready?” Wendy asked the kids.

“One sec,” Xander dug in his pac. “Bug spray.” He sprayed them all, and Harold screamed and flapped his wings. Then petal opened the door and he took off, right through it.

“Harold,” they shouted. “No, come back.”

He had already flown a few metres ahead and watched them from a tree branch. The moon was full and the light lit up his long red and blue tail feathers.

“I think he wants to lead the way, mom,” Petal suggested.

“Alright Harold, but don’t go too far without us,” Wendy scolded as much as one can scold a parrot.

“Love you, love you,” Harold responded, then took off again, flying toward the field. The group followed him, walking in the silvery moonlight.

***

Laurel made it to the mouth of the cave, just as the moon rose above the forest canopy. Though sunlight made the forest have an eerie gloom, moonlight made everything look like an old black and white picture, which she somehow found comforting.

Resting on a boulder, Laurel ate a snack and had a drink. In truth, her body was so tired, she wasn’t sure she could, or should go on. She shone her flashlight at her map and felt a pull in her middle. She needed to get to the bottom of the mystery, and it had to be today.

“Why today,” she asked herself aloud. She wasn’t completely sure. There was just a need to know that had been building inside her heart. She felt as if her grandfather was guiding her, protecting, and driving her to find out what was inside that cave.

She moved the beam of light to light up inside the entrance. To her surprise, the rock inside sparkled. Donning a headlamp, then packing up her backpack, Laurel moved carefully into the cave. She inspected the path before her. It was surprisingly flat and rather wide. It looked like it had once been regularly maintained. She assumed that this was grandpa’s doing, again. Feeling safe to walk freely, she shone her flashlight and headlamp around the walls of the cave. Quartz was a well known stone in the area. In fact, she had bowls filled with pretty, glittering rocks around the house, but this cave was probably the most spectacular sight she’d ever seen. The rock was a light pink, with veins of black, white, and caramel running through; everywhere she turned, more sparkle, more glitter, more dazzle laid in front of her eyes. Every few steps, she found herself entranced by the beauty and would be mesmerized for long periods of time. Eventually, she moved to what appeared to be a narrowing in the cave system. Stalactites hung down in damp points. She ducked carefully, weaving a little around the lowest hanging pieces. Then, the ceiling opened before her to reveal a grand cathedral- like room. The air was cold and damp, but a warm breeze came in from somewhere in front of her.

The light here was different from that of the darkness and glittering Laurel just passed. The light here was bluish. Turning off her lights, Laurel discovered the cave glowed with ethereal bioluminescence.

“Glow worms,” Laurel said. She’d heard of other caves in far off places that were lit up with thousands upon millions of blue star-like creatures, but she never imagined she’d find something like this in her own backyard.

“Glow little glow worm, glimmer glimmer…,” she sang to herself. In truth, Laurel felt exhaustion sweep over her. The beauty around her had zapped the last of her energy. She decided to close her eyes. Just for a few moments.

***

Wendy and the kids tracked Laurel and Harold the parrot, over the field, across the river, and down the embankment to the ravine. Though he was ahead of them, Harold never went so far as to no longer be seen. He squeaked along the way, which to Wendy seemed like a sort of encouragement, if parrots could be a kind of cheerleader, that is. She fretted internally about where Laurel was, though she knew the cave lay ahead and she knew that was where they would find her.

They stopped for a breather once they crossed the river. Harold even landed on a rock near the water to get a drink. He joined them when he saw there was fruit to be had. Petal gave him a chunk of melon and stroked his feathers. He gripped the honeydew in his claw and ripped off a bite with his beak.

“Do you think we are nearly there?” Xander asked.

“From what I can remember, I think so,” Wendy replied. They examined the map. It was hard to tell how far they had travelled, or how far they had to go. The map was hand drawn and contained no legend to help them. Xander pulled out his compass, aligned it with the map, and carefully considered. “We need to go back toward where we came. It doesn’t look too far,” he stated.

“Okay, kiddo. Let’s go,” Wendy said.

“You going to show us the way, again, Harold?” Petal asked the parrot. Harold answered by flying off ahead of them.

They reached the cave rather quickly, all things considered.

“Oh hey, look,” Petal’s flashlight shone on the rock where Laurel had stopped to have a rest. She had left a scarf behind. “This is Aunt Laurel’s. We must be on the right track.” They headed cautiously into the dazzling cave.

Harold, on the other hand, flew over the cave, to a special place beyond where the people were yet to reach.

***

Together, the threesome made their way past the walls of quartz, and into the cave of blue light.

“Glow worms,” Wendy said, her voice filled with awe. “I forgot all about these. Do you remember the song I used to sing you when you were little?”

She began, “glow little glow worm, glimmer glimmer. Glow little glow worm, glimmer glimmer. I’ve got a gal who loves me so..”

“Glow little glow worm glow.” Laurel’s voice joined in, in harmony, at the end

“Aunt Laurel,” Xander shouted and the kids ran to her.

“Laurel, what are you doing? You gave me such a fright,” Wendy admonished her little sister.

“It was my singing, wasn’t it,” Laurel teased.

“Sure, that, and you disappearing and not leaving me a note,” Wendy scolded.

“I’m sorry, I forgot. I was just excited, I guess,” Laurel apologized. The kids helped her up from the nook where she’d fallen asleep. “How did you find me, anyway?”

“Harold showed us the map you left in the library,” Petal answered.

“He did? I had no idea he was even paying attention.” Laurel stretched her back. “Remind me to never have a nap in a cave again.”

“So, now that we are all here, and we are all safe,” Wendy said, pointedly, at Laurel, “let’s continue onward to whatever it is that lies ahead.” She gave her sister a big hug and linked arms with her. They moved ahead, the kids lagging a bit behind because they were fascinated with the blue ceiling bugs.

They walked together into the warm breeze that flowed into this section of the cave. There was a narrowing again, but they could see daylight beyond. It became brighter the farther they went.

“What time is it?” Petal asked.

“It must be just after sun up,” Laurel responded.

“It didn’t seem like we had been in the cave for that long,” Xander replied.

“Caves are tricky places,” Wendy responded.

They walked toward the light. Suddenly, the tunnel opened. Instead of their being a cathedral type ceiling, as before, the cave opened to the sky. It was pink and orange with the sunrise. Around them, ferns of all sizes grew.

“I feel like we might see a dinosaur here,” Xander quipped.

“We better keep our eyes peeled,” Laurel said.

I love you, love you.

“Is that Harold I hear?” Laurel looked around, stunned.

“Oh ya, he helped us find you,” Wendy replied.

“Really? Wow.” Laurel was a bit taken aback. Coming to this cave had been nothing like she expected.

I love you, love you.

They followed his calls. They found him, resplendent in a beam of golden sunlight, sitting high atop a gargantuan pear tree. He held a pear in his claw, and was munching at it, spraying juice like a fountain, into the air.

“Harold, you silly goose,” Laurel called. “Whoa, look at that tree.”

“Pears. It’s a pear tree, of course!” Wendy exclaimed.

“What do you mean?” Laurel asked, confused.

“Don’t you remember grandpa used to bring home baskets and baskets of pears. And grandma would bake pies, make jam, and sauces. And, she’d win the pie making contest every fall at the fair.” Wendy reminisced.

“I remember the pie,” Laurel offered. “It was good.”

“This must be where grandpa got the pears. He never would say, to anyone who asked him. He brought me out here once, when I was little. But, I never saw inside the cave, and I never saw the tree,” Wendy said, her voice filled with awe.

“I wonder if Harold used to go with Great-Grands?” Petal mused. “He sure seemed to know his way here.”

“Yes, he certainly did,” Wendy replied.

They watch Harold’s fiery feathers flame in the sun. He grabbed another pear and chomped down. He squeaked happily.

“Well, let’s not waste a trip. We have pies, jams, and sauces we could be making,” Laurel made her way through the ferns, as there was no path to the tree anymore. It had grown over, long ago. They picked all they could carry, bags and pockets loaded with sweet, juicy, golden hued pears.

“Come on Harold, we’re going home,” Laurel called to her parrot friend.