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The Sweetest Peach

A fable written and illustrated by Sara D. Jones

   Once upon a time, there was a small village inhabited only by bird-folk. They merrily gathered on each day of spring for a local market. Fruits, nuts, and fish of all sorts could be found at this festive spring market, which attracted folks of all shapes and sizes from across the land each year. There stood a small stand at the end of a road; it was worn and old, yet sturdy and well-used. This was a peach stand: owned and operated by a beautiful swan. The swan’s peaches were well loved by all the locals, and the old market stand always made the swan enough money to store away for winter.

One chilly spring morning, as the swan was dutifully selling peaches to the early crowd, an old goose waddled itself up to the stand. The goose bought a peach from the stand, stared at it for a moment, furrowed his brow, and took a large bite. “PLEGH!” the goose squawked, expelling the peach bits in its mouth all over the ground. “Yuck! This peach is not sweet at all! I want my money back!” The swan, and the crowd that huddled around them, all stared in shock. Not one had ever seen such a heinous reaction to the locals' favorite peaches. 

The swan muttered in confusion, “I do not understand your disdain for my sweet peaches, but I will comply.” and handed the goose back their coins. The goose snatched them up quickly, turned its large frame away, and waddled off. The swan was left behind their small wooden counter, confused and heartbroken. Not a single bird, in all their years of attending spring markets, had ever given the beautiful swan such a sour encounter. The swan packed up the stand with its head hung low, closing for the day at an earlier time than was planned. ‘All of my peaches must be bad, maybe the locals are just too nice to tell me otherwise. I just want everyone to love how sweet they really are.’, the swan thought, with tears welling in its eyes. ‘Maybe, with some extra effort, I can make my tree grow even nicer peaches’.  And with a new goal in mind, the swan dragged its feet home to get to work.

     The swan spent an entire year carefully pruning branches, picking-off pests, gathering nutritious soil, and singing sweetly to the peach tree that was also their home. When the first peaches finally ripened the next spring, they were the juiciest, sweetest, and largest peaches the swan had ever seen or tasted. “I've done it! My peaches are the best in the world now!” The swan bounced up and down wildly. “No one could possibly spit this fruit upon the floor! I must go and sell them straight away!” they sang aloud. The swan gathered up the best peaches of the bunch and quickly flew them over the hills to the spring market. They arrived at their old stand, filling the air with the most decadent smell of peaches as they stacked them up on a large table for selling. The crowds gathered quickly, dragged by their noses and bellies, to welcome the new fruits and their neighbor swan back for the year. 

  The swan was selling peaches faster than lightning. They had just sold three peaches to the baker, four to the crows, and a dozen to the starlings, when the swan saw the big, old, grumpy goose waddle past the next stall. “Excuse me, there! Goose?” they honked. The goose stopped and glanced over to the peach stand. “My peaches are now the best in all the land! I have headed your concern, and made my peaches much sweeter. I would ask for you to try one once more, on the house!” The swan said. The goose sighed rather loudly, before waddling over and grabbing a peach from the table. “Hmmmmm.”, the goose says as it inspects a particularly large and sweet-smelling peach. The goose closed its eyes and took a bite of the peach. It was only a moment before the goose spit the peach bits upon the ground once more, before walking away, quickly, without a single word, and a scowl upon its face. ‘Oh dear! All of my hard work was for nothing. My peaches will never be able to please that old goose!’ The swan thought to themself loudly, holding back tears as they tried to compose themselves just long enough to sell their peaches and get through the rest of the day. The swan hung their head and held out a wing to gather their customers passing coins, when a group of bird-folk suddenly flew by shouting, “The Queen is here! The Queen is here!”. Then, as if with some precise coordination, everyone turned their beaks quickly to the other end of the street to witness the glorious Queen of Birds walking down the market road in their direction. 

The Queen waltzed her way to the tiny peach stand, as the enamored crowd parted before her. “My dear swan!”, she sang. “A little bird has told me that your peaches are the sweetest and best peaches in all the land! I myself adore a good peach, and I must taste one and decide for myself!” The swan perked up quickly, and then handed the beautiful bird-queen the best-looking peach that sat on the table. The Queen pressed the fruit to her nose, breathing in its flowery, sweet aroma. She took a small peck at first, and then a decent nibble. The Queen ate the peach slowly, savoring each bite with a smile on her beak and a light in her eyes. “Oh, my! This is indeed the most perfect peach that I have ever had the pleasure of tasting!” The swan glowed brightly, smiled wide, and blushed. The swan’s sanguine cheeks warmed the crowd around the stall, who stood watching the two of them tentatively. “Thank you so much for your kind words, your majesty! Your approval means so much to me, and your graceful comments have healed my heart today!”, the swan squawked with glee. The queen hands the beautiful swan a large flour sack, filled to the brim with coins and jewels that sparkled through the course linen. “I would trade you this, for all of the peaches you have for sale today. Consider it to be a token of my gratitude for all of the hard work it must have taken you to create such a fine fruit!”, the Queen says. The swan then packed up all of her peaches, handed them to the queen, and thanked her again for her generosity. 

     With the day's stock of peaches depleted, the swan packed up the stand early, dancing about with every movement, and flew home. As the evening closed in, she thought, ‘Although I may not be able to ever please that cranky old goose, the finest of all birds thinks that my peaches are perfect, and so they must be.” and she drifted off to sleep: surrounded by gems, jewels, and the sweetest peaches in all the land. 

The End

“You can be the sweetest, juiciest peach on the whole tree; but some people just don't like peaches.” - Dita Von Teese