(The last story is almost the same as the first. This story perhaps explains why these 1001 tales are called “Cabbages Seeds”.)
I’ve stopped gathering for a minute. I thought I’d tell you how an Angel showed me a field and gave me a spade and a sack of cabbage seed.
“Dig the field and sow the seeds,” the Angel said. “When the cabbages are ready, God will take you away.”
I began to dig and in my joy there seemed no night. Sometimes I looked towards the trees near the fence. I think there were further fields afield.
And now the seeds were planted. They sprouted and I knew every leaf. Not a weed survived! Sometimes I’d chase a butterfly. It was like a game, like a children’s game. Maybe the butterfly was God in disguise coming for a look.
Months passed and hearts began to form. Soon God would come. I’d been asked to grow these cabbages for heaven! It was a joke and I was jester.
Then I knew. They were ready for harvest. God would take me away for it was the time of the Angel’s promise.
But there’s no telling with cabbages as to the moment of ripeness. It could be now, but then again, it could be in a while.
I waited.
God did not come to get me. The cabbage hearts broke open and the stalks grew into a field of yellow flowers. I have gathered the seeds into an old sack.
(That completes this series of 1001 stories, 101 music compositions, and 35 poems. The “collection” has been moved to the website at Stagebarn. Thank you for walking all or part of this journey with me.)
Listen the story being read HERE!
❤
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Thank you, Cynthia.
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Where there are seeds, there are possibilities.
It has been a pleasure, Bruce.
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Thank you, Susanne – O
oldestearliest of followers.LikeLike
I think my final comment was too insipid. Let me rephrase. Your posts have given me so many laugh out loud moments in the past few years – more than all the cherries the squirrels have stolen. Your stories became a part of my daily routine and if I didn’t read one for some reason my day didn’t feel right. Even as I write this I feel wobbly knowing you won’t be there tomorrow. Carry on, Bruce. I will, of course, but I’ll need a cane.
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LOL – just keep tending that black llama and all will be well!
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Oh poor Harry and Vee. So neglected. And I can’t imagine the shaggy state of Elvis.
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The three have survived I believe – huddled together in a corner of the papal nuncio’s porch.
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OMG! You remembered that! I’d love to live in that gatehouse.
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And now, there is no tomorrow
So we’ll chant a dirge of sorrow.
You’ll be missed so much, Bruce Almighty. Thanks for all the twists and turns in your road of words.
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Thanks, Yvonne. It’s always tempting to return, but there are more canals in Venice than the Grand Canal!
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A lovely, fitting end story. And now what?
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Thanks! I have no idea what!
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No doubt the future will be revealed by and by…
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There may not be anything to reveal!
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Trust me, there will.
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I was standing in a field. I may have been lost and the field may have been cabbages. Someone – it may have been God – introduced me to an old storyteller. And I was glad. I listened to his stories and his stories filled the field. And it was good. With great admiration and best wishes. Simon.
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Thank you, Simon. Let’s both get out of the field before everything turns to broccoli!
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And thank you for the imaginative, witty and thoughtful journey.
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Thank you Chris. I shall continue to follow your poetry!
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Thank you and I look forward to reading more from you when the urge takes you as I’m sure it will.
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A blogging urge is a relatively unlikely prospect I suspect!
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I made my way to the stagebarn (took one wrong turn and ended up in a ditch, at first). One thousand and one stories is a lot of stories when you see them itemized like that. Awesome, really.
Though I was a late comer, I have come to admire your deadpan-edness (if that’s a word), your sharp sense of the absurd and of the macabre, your knowledge of music and literature, your wonderful humor. I could go on. All this I will miss.
Next time I plant cabbage, I will think of you. I’ll call it the Bruce Patch…
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Thank you! And do plant a cabbage (or two) – and why! I think I just might plant a banana in remembrance of an Exiled Prospero. Since they don’t have seeds it’s possibly a bit of a waste but the thought is there. Thank you for your kind comments.
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I’m working on a banana-cabbage hybrid in the laboratory (secret laboratory, that is). It will be bright yellow, peel easily, and will make wonderful sauerkraut. As soon as the seeds are beta-tested (is this what they do with seed?) I’ll send you some for a small recompense.
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It could be a dangerous thing to cross a cabbage with a banana; the banana might develop a heart, and we all know the banana’s propensity to strip.
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Nice adieu, friend. Onward, with the fruits of seeds planted!
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Thank you, Eric!
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A great pleasure to have followed and read and listened to you. Will certainly miss it! All best wishes going into your next phase ❤️
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Thanks so much, Bianca!
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Amen. Except that now we know what to call our cabbage tree
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😀
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Into that old sack you have collected some hearts alongside the seeds. I will still be with you but won’t hear what you have to say now. Nor would you.
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Thanks!
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Congratulations Bruce, I’ve been astounded by your creativity to complete so many diverse stories, poems and musical pieces every day. Great achievement.
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Thanks Andrea. It is a relief to have stopped!!
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Thank you for all the fun and surprises. I will miss trying to guess the twists in your stories. Apologies for leaving the blogosphere abruptly and with no warning. All of a sudden, I just had to take a break, but as a result, missed the last days of your blog. I hope your moving houses will go smoothly and that you will come back, eventually, when you have settled down. Thank you for everything 🙂
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Thanks Sylvie. I have thoroughly enjoyed our association over the time. Am looking at moving to “your island” – maybe the Blackball-Reefton area. Don’t really know yet.
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