Once upon a time

One warm spring day, Mother Fly stretched her wings and flew toward the sun. She was off to see the wide world! Before she left, she needed to find a home for her little egg -- someplace warm and safe, with lots of things to eat so her baby could grow up and be happy and well. She searched and searched, and finally tucked it safely into the perfect home.

"Goodbye little one," she said, and flew off to see the wide world.

Meanwhile, the sun warmed the egg, and the egg hatched and the little baby maggot named Hazel climbed out. Hazel was safe and warm and had lots to eat. So she ate and ate and ate, and slowly grew and grew and grew and was happy and well.

One day, an old lady stood upon a ladder in the warm sunshine, picking cherries. She picked and she picked, and filled bowls and bowls with tart red cherries. As she picked, she dreamed of all the things the cherries could become. Cherry tarts, cherry pies, cherry cobbler, frozen cherries, dried cherries, cherry jam and cherry fruit leather. The sun beat down and the lady's mouth watered as she picked and picked and picked.

Later, after the sun had gone down, the old lady sat at in her air conditioned house, at her kitchen table, opening cherries and taking out pits. Over and over and over she opened cherries, late into the night, dreaming of all the delicious things the cherries could become. Cherry tarts, cherry pies, cherry cobbler, frozen cherries, dried cherries, cherry jam and cherry fruit leather.

And then, just as the bowl of cherries to be pitted was getting low, and just as the bowl of pitted cherries was getting high, the old lady suddenly stopped. She stopped dreaming of delicious things, stopped opening cherries, stopped taking out pits. She adjusted her spectacles, sat up a little straighter, and carefully peered into the cherry in her hands.

There was Hazel, not so safe, not so warm, exposed to the cold conditioned air, wriggling unhappily as her home was pulled apart.

The old lady screamed, and Hazel screamed. Poor Hazel was tossed into the pile of cherry pits. And then tossed into the trash. And then tossed into the landfill.

The landfill was deep and wide. Hazel found herself in a pile of cherry pits and rotten cherries. Depressed, she went to sleep. She slept for a long time.

The air grew cold. Still Hazel slept. Snow fell from the sky. Still Hazel slept. Ice covered the landfill. Still Hazel slept.

And then one warm day, the sun shone down upon the landfill, and Hazel awoke! She was no longer an ugly maggot. She was a beautiful fly! She could fly off to explore the wide world!

But first, there was something Hazel needed to do. She let the sun guide her and the spring winds carry her far from the landfill, over the fields and trees and houses, until she finally landed in a tree of tart cherries, in the back yard of an old lady. There Hazel found a perfect little cherry. She tucked her little egg into the cherry, patted it gently, and said, "Goodbye little one."

And flew off to see the wide world.

****

A note from the author.

This delicious little story (copyright 2009, all rights reserved) wrote itself yesterday evening as I was trying to deal with our harvest of tart cherries. The old lady in the story was me, and Hazel was a temporary guest in our home, along with maggots Hector and Alice and William and Tina and Bobby and Marylou and. . . . We called the company that supposedly sprayed our cherries for bugs, and they essentially told us that spraying was pretty useless after all, because Hazel would be back in the spring. But please pay us up front for next year. And as I thought about the sprayers' words, I wondered how Hazel felt about that. The rest is history.

PS. And when you visit, you should try some of our delicious tart cherry fruit leather. Don't worry -- I think we cleaned most of the maggots out before grinding them up and drying them out.