Walnut Tree awoke with an unusual feeling, sensing that something was amiss in the garden. As he glanced around, he noticed a stir among the plants—whispers and murmurs filled the air. The signs pointed to trouble, yet Walnut Tree chose not to dwell on assumptions. His wisdom urged him to stay present, to observe rather than speculate. And so, with calm patience, he waited for the right moment to act.
He heard Carrot speaking proudly. “I’m growing so quickly! It makes me happy to see how much faster I am compared to some of the others.”
Buxus added, “Yes, some plants are struggling. Even Walnut has acknowledged it. And you know what happens to those that don’t thrive—the gardener removes them.”
Date Sprout, surprised, asked. “Is that true? How unfortunate for them! What a sorrowful fate. Do you know which plants are at risk?”
Orange Tree, puzzled, exclaimed, “When did this happen? Why haven’t I heard about it?”
The murmurs quickly turned into a heated discussion. Voices rose from every corner of the garden, tinged with worry, frustration, and resentment. The once-harmonious air grew thick with tension.
Mulberry, who had been listening quietly, began to feel the weight of the conversation pressing upon her. A creeping suspicion took root in her heart—were they talking about her? With an anxious glance at Walnut Tree, she hesitated. But when he gave her a reassuring nod, she found the courage to speak.
“Are you referring to me?” she asked. “Is there something you’re trying to say?”
The plants continued their discussions, yet none answered her directly.
As emotions swelled, it was Cauliflower— pure white both inside and out and known for her honesty—who finally broke the silence. “Walnut Tree, I have a question. What exactly is the gardener’s role? Who appointed him as our caretaker?”
Her words sparked an uproar.
“She’s right!” called out other plants. “Who is this gardener, anyway? Why should he have the authority to order us around? What gives him the right to decide which parts of us should be cut away?”
Carrot, now filled with indignation, turned to Walnut Tree. “And what about you? Who made you the leader of this garden? Do you truly believe you’re in charge? Did the gardener appoint you?”
Walnut Tree could see that anger and doubt had taken root in their hearts. If left unchecked, these emotions could poison the garden. Recognizing the urgency of the moment, he decided to speak, hoping his words would restore the peace they had lost.
“Please, be patient,” he said gently. “I will answer all of your questions.”
Though some plants remained troubled and others defiant, they all fell silent, eager to hear what he had to say.
Walnut Tree took a deep breath. “Let me share a story from long ago.”
The plants leaned in.
“Many years ago, in this very garden, a Mango Tree grew beside me. He faced many hardships but persevered, becoming strong and full of life. When his branches were finally adorned with blossoms, the whole garden rejoiced, eagerly awaiting the fruits he would bear.
The tree, too, found peace. His struggles had not been in vain, and he looked forward to the harvest. Before long, small, beautiful fruits began to appear, adding to his splendor. But then, something unexpected happened—one by one, the unripe fruits began to fall.
The plants were shocked. ‘What has gone wrong?’ they asked. ‘Why is Mango Tree losing his fruits?’
Walnut paused before continuing. ‘It all started when one small fruit began to question its place. “Why should the tree be my master?” it grumbled. “Who is he to control me?”
This fruit grew bitter and restless. Its words spread to the others, and soon, more fruits began to listen. They, too, resented their connection to the tree. And so, one by one, they severed themselves—turning away from the very roots that had nourished them.
But they were not ready. They had broken away too soon, and so they withered and fell to the ground, never reaching maturity.’”
The garden was silent.
The plants exchanged uneasy glances, sighing at the foolishness of the small fruits.
“How could they not see?” some whispered. “A fruit and its tree are one. Why would they reject the very source of their life?”
As they pondered the tale, they shook their heads, lost in sorrow and disbelief.
Walnut Tree let the silence linger before speaking again. “The Mango Tree, heartbroken, could not bear the sorrow. Over time, he withered, and the gardener was forced to remove him. And so, both tree and fruit were lost.”
The plants absorbed the weight of the story.
Then Walnut’s voice, gentle yet firm, drew them back. “Didn’t this story seem strange to you?” he asked.
“Yes,” they murmured. “It was very strange. We’ve never heard of such ignorant fruits before.”
Walnut Tree smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. “Are you sure you’ve never heard this story before?”
The plants looked at him in confusion. “No,” they replied. “It’s the first time we’ve heard it.”
Walnut nodded. “And yet, you are living it.”
A hush fell over the garden.
“The tale of the fruit and the tree mirrors your own struggle with the gardener,” he said. “Are the words those fruits spoke so different from your own? You question the gardener’s authority, just as they questioned the tree’s. But tell me—what wisdom would lead something to separate itself from its own creator?”
The plants fell into deep thought.
Walnut continued, “The sacred gardener is the soul of this garden—its owner, its creator. We are all his work. Yet you ask why I speak with wisdom, why I guide the plants. Let me be clear: I do not rule this garden, nor do I seek to. The Sun and the gardener have given me wisdom, and when a plant seeks guidance, I offer it freely.
I do not command—I serve. I do not impose—I share. The gardener’s law is love, and those who listen to me do so not out of fear, but from the heart. I ask nothing for myself. My purpose is only to bring goodness to others. In the realm of love, I am but a servant, though to the world, I may appear as a leader.”
Shame washed over the plants. They had been so caught up in their anger that they had forgotten the love that bound them to the gardener—and to each other.
As they looked at Walnut Tree, their resentment faded, replaced by quiet understanding. The peace of the garden, once lost, was slowly restored.
