Why Fruits Have Seasons – A Forest Tale of Justice
Long ago, in the lush heart of an enchanted forest, stood the majestic palace of King Iroko—the oldest and tallest of all the trees, and ruler over every plant and shrub in the land. Towering above all, with roots as deep as time itself, Iroko was a symbol of strength and authority.
One particularly humid afternoon, a council was called at King Iroko’s palace. Present were all the most renowned fruit trees—Mango Tree, Orange Tree, Apple Tree, Guava Tree, Lemon Tree, Cherry Tree, Pear Tree, and Grape Tree, among others. The air was thick with tension.
The mighty king, his voice calm but commanding, looked around and asked, “What urgent matter brings you here today?”
Grape Tree stepped forward, his leaves trembling slightly. “Your Majesty, we are gathered here because of Mango Tree. He is the root of our problem.”
A low rumble of agreement spread through the other trees.
“Indeed,” added Lemon Tree. “He has done something to sway Man’s affection. Humans no longer pick our fruits. They claim we are too sour or too bitter. They pluck only from Mango Tree, leaving our fruits to rot.”
Cherry Tree chimed in with a rustling sigh. “He has poisoned their minds, your Majesty. They think we are useless.”
“That’s not all,” Pear Tree added with a grave tone. “I saw Mango Tree with my own eyes consulting a powerful dibia—an old sorcerer of the woods. He had a charm made to enchant humans, drawing them only to his fruit.”
Gasps rustled through the palace branches.
Mango Tree stood up sharply. “Lies!” he thundered. “You’re all just jealous! I work tirelessly to produce sweet, golden fruits. You don’t labor like I do. I have earned Man’s love.”
The hall grew silent.
King Iroko removed his wooden spectacles, folded his long limbs, and thought deeply. Then, with a slow, steady voice, he pronounced his judgment.
“Mango Tree, perhaps your fruits are sweet, and perhaps you do work hard. But it is not right for one to benefit at the expense of others. The forest thrives on balance.”
He continued, “From now on, each of you shall be given your own season. During your season, Man will enjoy your fruits, and you shall each have your time of glory. When one rests, another will flourish. This way, no fruit will go entirely to waste, and the forest will remain in harmony.”
The council murmured approval. Even the wind seemed to whisper agreement.
Mango Tree, however, was outraged. “This is unfair!” he snapped. “You’re siding with them because you bear no fruit! You’re just tall and ancient—useless!”
With that, he stormed out of the palace, his bark crackling with fury. But the decision had been made. King Iroko’s word was final—it was law.
And so, from that day on, the seasons of fruits were born. Mangoes ripen in the heat of summer, apples in the crisp breath of fall, oranges in the winter sun, and cherries blossom when spring sings. Man rejoices in the cycle, never knowing the forest tale behind it all.
And if you listen closely during the change of seasons, you may still hear King Iroko’s wise voice rustling through the leaves.
Moral of the Story:
True fairness lies in balance. When everyone is given a fair chance, harmony prevails. Selfishness, no matter how sweet its fruit, cannot outlast justice.
