Farmer Mybrow and the Fairies

Farmer Mybrow and the Fairies

Once, near a great green forest, there lived a farmer named Mybrow. He could work from sunrise to sunset, and more than anything he dreamed of a fine field where he could grow corn and yams.

One morning, Mybrow walked around the countryside for a long time, studying the land. At last, right at the edge of the forest, he found a level patch of rich, dark soil.

“This will be a wonderful place,” he said. “It gets plenty of sun, and it’s not far from home.”

The farmer sharpened his big brush knife and got to work.

Swish!

He cut the first branch.

Suddenly, a voice came from the forest:

“Who is cutting the bushes?”

Mybrow froze. He looked right and left. No one was there.

He thought he must have imagined it and raised his knife again.

Swish!

“Who is cutting the bushes?” the voice repeated.

Now Mybrow understood: someone invisible among the trees was speaking.

People in those parts said that fairies lived deep in the forest. They rarely showed themselves to humans, but they knew well who came with kind intentions and who only wanted to take what belonged to others.

Mybrow answered politely:

“It’s me, Farmer Mybrow. I want to prepare a little field so I can grow food for my family.”

Something in the leaves chimed softly, as if someone were laughing with silver bells.

“He answered politely,” said one voice.

“And he didn’t pretend he couldn’t hear us,” added another.

“Let’s help him!” cried a third.

And then the magic began.

The bushes rustled all by themselves. Dry branches gathered into neat piles. Vines untangled and moved aside. Mybrow could hardly keep up as the patch of land grew clear.

“Thank you!” he called toward the forest.

“Care for the earth, and the earth will care for you,” an invisible voice replied.

The farmer returned home very pleased. But he did not tell anyone where he had found the field or who had helped him. He was afraid curious people would rush into the forest, demand wonders from the fairies, and spoil everything.

Some time passed. When the dry bushes needed clearing, Mybrow returned to the field.

He deliberately tapped the handle of his knife against an old stump.

Knock-knock.

“Who is knocking by our forest?” the familiar voice called.

“It’s me, Mybrow. I’ve come to prepare the soil for planting.”

“Then let’s help Mybrow!”

Once again, the work seemed to move forward by itself. The dry brush was quickly gathered, the soil was cleared, and the stumps that got in the way were stacked neatly to the side for firewood.

The next day, the fairies helped loosen the soil. Then it was time to plant.

Mybrow sowed corn on half the field and planted yams on the other half.

The rains came at just the right time. Green shoots rose from the earth. The corn stretched upward, and the yams spread beneath broad leaves.

Each time Mybrow came to the field, he felt happier.

“If everything ripens, we’ll have plenty to last a long time,” he told himself.

At home, Mybrow’s wife began to notice that her husband often went somewhere in the morning and came back looking pleased.

“Where is your new field?” she asked.

“By the forest.”

“Show it to me. We need firewood, and I’d like to see what you’ve grown there.”

Mybrow hesitated.

“I’ll show you the way. But listen carefully. If you hear a question in the field, don’t answer. Just do what you came to do, then come back.”

“All right,” his wife promised.

She found the field easily and stopped in amazement.

The corn stood in tall green rows. Young ears were already filling out between the leaves. The yams looked wonderful, too.

“I’ve never seen a crop like this,” she whispered.

She had come only to gather firewood. But a young ear of corn looked so fresh and juicy that she very much wanted to taste it.

“One ear won’t make any difference,” she thought.

As soon as she reached out and snapped it off, a voice came from the forest:

“Who is breaking the corn?”

The woman remembered her promise and pressed her lips together.

Then she thought, “Why should I keep quiet? This is my husband’s field.”

“It’s me, Mybrow’s wife!” she answered. “The corn is growing in our field.”

The forest fell silent for a moment.

Then the voices began to chatter merrily:

“It’s Mybrow’s wife!”

“She’s gathering the corn!”

“Let’s help her, just as we helped her husband!”

“No, wait!” the woman cried. “I only took one ear!”

But the fairies were already at work.

Swish-swish-swish!

One by one, the ears fell to the ground.

“Stop! They’re still green!”

But the fairies thought that since the farmer’s wife had begun the harvest, they should help her as much as they could.

The woman rushed to the yams, hoping to save at least those. But in her confusion, she accidentally pulled up one young tuber.

“Who is digging up the yams?” called the forest voices.

“Don’t!” she cried. “I’m not harvesting!”

But it was too late.

“She’s gathering the yams! Let’s help!”

Invisible hands began pulling the unripe tubers out of the earth.

In just a few minutes, the entire field had been harvested as carefully as if it were the day of the great harvest. Only the crop was still young and not ready to be stored.

The woman sat at the edge of the field and nearly cried.

Now she understood why Mybrow had asked her not to answer.

That evening her husband came home and immediately noticed her sad face.

“What happened?”

At first she wanted to stay quiet. But then she decided that one mistake should not lead to another.

“I went to the field,” she said. “You warned me. I promised to listen, but I answered the voices. The fairies thought I had begun the harvest and helped… a little too well.”

Mybrow was silent for a long time.

He felt sad. He had waited so long for that crop.

But arguing would not put the corn back on the stalks.

“Let’s go see what we can save,” he finally said.

The next morning, they went to the field together. They managed to cook some of the young corn that very day. They shared some of the yams with their neighbors so the food would not go to waste. They also saved seeds for a new planting.

When they had finished, Mybrow walked to the edge of the forest.

“Thank you for helping us,” he said. “This time, we were the ones who hurried.”

A quiet laugh came from the green shade.

“The harvest has its own time, Mybrow.”

“I know,” the farmer replied.

The next season, he planted the field again. This time he and his wife cared for it together and did not rush.

When the corn had truly ripened and the yam leaves showed that it was time to dig up the tubers, Mybrow walked to the forest and called out:

“Friends, now it’s time!”

Thousands of leaves rustled in reply.

That day, the people and the fairies worked together until evening.

From then on, the people in Mybrow’s house remembered well: help is a true gift only when you know how to listen, take your time, and keep your promises.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨