The Winter Spirit and his Visitor

The Winter Spirit and his Visitor

At the end of a long winter, a small house stood by a frozen stream. In it sat old Peboan, the Spirit of Winter, all alone.

His hair was white as snow. Outside the door, a cold wind wandered, trees cracked in the frost, and the stream lay still beneath the ice.

The fire in the house had dwindled to a faint glow.

Then one day a young stranger came to visit Peboan.

His steps were light. A smile lit his face, fragrant green grass crowned his head, and he carried flowers in his hands.

“Come in, my son,” Peboan said in greeting. “It’s been a long time since anyone visited me. Sit with me. Tell me what you can do, and I’ll tell you what I can do.”

The guest sat down next to him.

Peboan straightened up and said:

“When I breathe over the water, it freezes. The streams become hard and transparent like stone.”

The young man smiled.

“And when I breathe, flowers wake up on the plains.”

Peboan rolled his shoulders, and outside the walls the wind began to roar.

“When I shake my white hair, snow covers the earth. Leaves fall from the trees. Birds fly far away. Animals seek warm shelters, and frost hardens the ground.”

The guest passed his hand over the flowers.

“When I touch the ground, warm rain comes. The plants raise their green heads. The birds return. The ice releases the streams, and they begin to sing again between the banks.”

Thus they talked all night.

Peboan spoke of blizzards, frosty mornings, and the silence of the snowy forest.

The young guest spoke of raindrops, soft earth, fresh grass, and birdsong.

Finally, dawn began to break outside the window.

The first ray of the sun touched the snow.

And a miracle happened.

Somewhere nearby, water murmured.

A bird sang on the roof.

The air suddenly smelled of damp earth and young plants.

Peboan fell silent.

He looked at his guest and finally realized who was in front of him.

It was Sigwun, the Spirit of Spring.

The sun rose higher and higher. The snow near the threshold began to settle. The ice on the stream darkened and cracked in a thin line.

And Peboan himself became smaller and smaller, as if winter was slowly retreating with him.

“So your time has come,” he said quietly.

Sigwun did not laugh at him or chase him away.

“Your time was needed too,” he replied. “The earth rested under the snow. The water waited under the ice. But now everything is ready to wake up.”

Another sunbeam slipped across the earth, and Peboan melted like the last little piece of ice at winter’s end.

Where he had sat, a small, pale flower with a pink edge remained.

Sigwun bent down, carefully picked it up, and decorated his green wreath with it.

Then he went out to meet the morning.

Behind him, the earth was awakening. The stream ran freely between its banks again. Birds returned to the forest. Where cold snow had lain only yesterday, new life was beginning.

Thus Winter gave way to Spring. Not because one of them was good and the other bad, but because in nature there is a time for each season.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨