Miss Mabel's Magical Magnolia Tree

By Christopher Setterlund

What if the Fountain of Youth existed in your own backyard? That is the blessing and curse discovered by 85 year old Mabel. It flows beneath her majestic magnolia tree, filling the tree and all of its flowers with the magic elixir of life. What happens when the love of the money she makes overtakes the reality that the magnolia tree only has so many flowers that can make the magical drink?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Setterlund
• Release date: Nov 20, 2009
• ISBN: 9781102468301

Christopher Setterlund

My name is Christopher Setterlund and I was born and raised on Cape Cod. Being the oldest of five siblings, and coming from a large family mixed of many different nationalities, I enjoyed hearing the stories my elder relatives would tell. I was a born storyteller from the time I was eight years old and writing tales of adventures that my friends and I would take. As time went on my passion changed to film and producing, even going to college with the intention of becoming a film director. Still, throughout all of my time making my own home movies with my friends it was the stories that I enjoyed creating the most. Nothing is better for me than creating your own world or characters and bringing them to life.After losing interest in directing I spent much of my twenties writing poetry that described my world and emotions surrounding it, it was quite a growing experience to be able to open my heart but also do it in a concise and interesting way. Eventually I wanted to try my hand at taking the chains off of my mind and creating a full-length story complete with many interesting characters and a great plot. Second Coming was that story and since then I have never looked back.My biggest hope for all of you that choose to read my books is that you will be able to lose yourself in the world I create; sights, sounds, and emotions. Much the same as I did with my poetry I do not limit myself in one specific genre of writing; I want my words to reach as many people as possible and realize that different people like different types of stories. I believe that there is something for everyone in my collection, and if there is not keep checking back because I have many more books to come in the coming months and years. Thank you for taking a chance on my books, you will not be disappointed.

Book preview

Miss Mabel’s Magical Magnolia Tree

Christopher Setterlund

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2009 Christopher Setterlund

Discover Other Titles By Christopher Setterlund at Smashwords.com

Chapter One

Bay River was just an average small town by the ocean. Sunflower Lane was just an average street in this average small town. Major events rarely ever happened in this small town. One time a few years back a flock of turkeys got loose on Main Street and caused havoc, but those events were few and far between.

Miss Mabel Cottonstine had lived in Bay River for most of her eighty-five years. They had been mostly quiet years. She had been a housewife for fifty years, married to Clarence Cottonstine. When he had died, ten years earlier, Miss Mabel had bought a cat named Roo who became her best friend. She also whiled away many warm spring and summer days doing crossword puzzles in her favorite comfy red chair and tending to her garden in the backyard.

It was the middle of May in Bay River. Even though the small town was close to the ocean the days still got warm, sometimes hot, although the breeze off of the water kept the air smelling fresh. While tending to her garden during mid-morning as she always did, Miss Mabel whistled a happy tune. Roo, her black and grey striped cat, swatted playfully at a pair of daisies which swayed back and forth in the gentle breeze. Although he was now ten years old, Roo still enjoyed playing and frolicking as if he was still a kitten.

Miss Mabel knelt down in the grass and carefully pulled the weeds from around her cucumbers and tomatoes. She turned and watched Roo swatting at the daisies and smiled, but she stopped momentarily and scolded her playful cat for being too rough with her flowers.

Now, now, Roo, she said while wagging the three-pronged metal trowel in her hand, don’t you go tearing up my daisies. That’s why I bought you that scratching post in the den. Roo sat and stared, listening to what he was being told like a good cat, or so it seemed. It turned out that the breeze had died down, which caused the flowers to stop moving and made them less appealing to play with. Mabel, confident that she had made her point, went back to her weeding. The ever-present ocean breeze kicked up again a few moments later and Roo went back to batting the pair of daisies back and forth with his paws. It was a peaceful, almost dull existence for Miss Mabel and Roo. Everyday it seemed was sunny and bright. She enjoyed the calm, easygoing lifestyle as it was just about all that her brittle old bones could handle. Too much excitement probably would not be good for Miss Mabel at her age.

The morning was like any other uneventful morning in Bay River until Miss Mabel heard a strange sound. She turned her head to the left and saw three yellow and black birds fluttering on the ground. They chirped and flapped their wings causing a dust cloud to rise all around them. Normally the sight of three baby birds fluttering around in the dirt would cause quite a shock, but to Miss Mabel it barely caused a stir. It was not that she did not care, it was just that she had just gotten used to the sight.

The first event happened a few weeks earlier and it was now almost every day or at least every other day that she was finding baby birds in the grass underneath her, almost thirty-five foot tall, magnolia tree. She figured that there had to be a nest up in the tree, or more likely several nests since there had been many different types of birds spotted rolling in the dirt at the foot of her tree in the past few weeks.

Miss Mabel slowly struggled to her feet, rocking back and forth from where she was kneeling, until she was standing upright. She adjusted her pink and white gardening smock and then made sure to warn Roo about leaving the birds alone. He had begun to creep toward the helpless chicks once he had spotted the dust cloud, stalking them as any cat would do.

Roo! Mabel shouted. You leave those little birds alone. I’d rather you keep slapping my daisies around. Roo recoiled with fear when he heard Miss Mabel raise her voice, but he soon got over it and went off to find a shady spot to sleep. His favorite place to hide was behind the tool shed that Miss Mabel’s late-husband, Clarence, had built with his bare hands fifty-years before.

With the threat of Roo out of the way, Miss Mabel shuffled over to where the birds were still flapping and chirping.

Don’t worry, little ones, she said softly. I’ll take you inside. With a gentle touch, one by one, Miss Mabel lifted the yellow and black chicks and placed them into the large rectangular pocket of her pink and white gardening apron. Taking each step cautiously, Miss Mabel crossed her backyard and climbed up the two steps into her house.

She placed the chicks in her empty kitchen sink, and took a moment to let her body calm down. It was a chore just getting from the garden to the house for Miss Mabel. Once she felt up to it she got on the phone and called Animal Control. They were admittedly surprised to hear that she had once again found baby birds in her backyard.

Miss Mabel, the man from Animal Control said, this is the seventh time this spring that you have told me you have found baby birds in your yard. A few of my colleagues have said they’ve spoken to you on the phone, too. How come these birds like you so much?

Maybe it’s my garden, or my magnolia tree, she replied with a cheerful cackle.

The man from Animal Control came over soon after and took the yellow and black baby birds away. Miss Mabel offered him a cookie and some coffee, the man politely declined. He needed to get back to his headquarters and get down to the business of finding a suitable home for these baby birds. Miss Mabel gave a wave at her front door as the man’s pine green van pulled away.

No more than two days later, on another sunny and bright mid-May day in Bay River, as Miss Mabel was tending to her cucumbers and yellow squash, she heard the familiar sound of baby birds yet again. These birds were black with a touch of red on their wings, different from any others she had seen before. Roo, who had been asleep in the yard, woke up at the sound of the birds, and watched intently from under a bush while Miss Mabel scooped up the pair of black and red baby birds and brought them inside. She put the birds in her kitchen sink again, this time having to remove her coffee pot which was soaking inside. When she dialed the number for Animal Control again, she got the same man who had been at the house two days earlier. He thought he might have an answer for Miss Mabel.

Are there any nests in your magnolia tree? Miss Mabel gazed across her backyard toward where the nearly thirty-five foot tall tree covered with pink flowers majestically sat. Her eyesight, while not terrible, had deteriorated some, as it does with anybody as they get into their eighties. She had not seen any nests in her magnolia tree, but had always imagined that must be the answer to her bird problem.

I have not seen any nests, she told the man from Animal Control, but there is no other logical reason for so many baby birds finding themselves at the foot of my magnolia tree, right? The man from Animal Control agreed and insisted that he come over. In addition to retrieving the black and red baby birds, he wanted to climb up the magnolia tree to check for any birds’ nests.

The man from Animal Control came right over to investigate. He walked around the side of Miss Mabel’s house carrying with him a long metal ladder and a pair of binoculars around his neck. Once he was standing at the bottom of the thirty-five foot high magnolia tree, he carefully placed the ladder up against the trunk. It stretched nearly halfway up the tree, far enough for the man from Animal Control to get a good look at whether there were any bird nests up near the top.

Alright now, the man said while squinting his eyes in the bright sun, let’s see what we’ve got up here.

Please, be careful of my tree, Miss Mabel asked standing on her back step. She was indeed more concerned with the health of her magnolia tree than that of the man from Animal Control who was climbing it.

Step by step, rung by rung, the man from Animal Control climbed up the ladder. He wiped beads of sweat from around his eyes. The normally tenacious ocean breeze had been quiet on that day and the late-Spring heat had taken over. Once near the top of the ladder, and surrounded by beautiful pink flowers, the man looked around. He could not see any nests nearby so he pulled the binoculars from around his neck and searched the magnolia tree. Branch by branch he looked for any sign of nests that could be the homes to the baby birds who kept falling out of the tree and into Miss Mabel’s backyard. After looking for several minutes the man from Animal Control hung the binoculars back around his neck and turned back toward the house. Miss Mabel had slowly crept her way from the back step until she was only a few feet away from the bottom of the ladder.

I don’t see any nests in this tree, the man said with confusion. There are only hundreds, or maybe thousands, of pink flowers.

Where do you think those baby birds keep coming from?

I don’t know, maybe there are nests in these other trees? The man once again pulled his binoculars from around his neck and scoured the nearby trees in a desperate attempt to find an answer to the mystery of the baby birds. Alas, after several more minutes of looking around in silence the man from Animal Control sighed. "There aren’t any nests that I