The Incredibly Truthful Diary of Nature Girl

By J. D. Shelby

Eleven-year-old Nature Girl's backyard is an enchanted forest.

Ever since a talking tree saved her life, she's explored every leaf and shadow. She's named her favorite spots, frolicked with fairies, and even rescued an orphaned raccoon. And she's written it all down in her trusty diary.

But ev

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Shelby
• Release date: Jun 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738669639

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The Incredibly Truthful Diary of Nature Girl

J.D. Shelby

Copyright 2011 Jennifer Shelby

Third Edition 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the copyright holder.

Book cover artwork is courtesy of Getcovers.com

ISBN: 978-1-7386696-3-9

Contents

Dedication

1. January

2. February

3. March

4. April

5. May

6. June

7. July

8. August

9. September

10. October

11. November

12. December

About the Author

. Chapter

Fullpage Image

For Evening, for Nim,

for Jordan, and for Indigo,

because once upon a time I made a promise

to tell the stories of a King

January

January 3rd

I saw a unicorn once. I can feel the pages of this diary smothering their laughter so I’d best explain myself (very naughty of you, diary, considering we’ve only just begun).

My family and I were camping in Fundy National Park when I rose early one morning to watch the forest. I wanted to walk in the enchanted Acadian Forest all alone in the dewy morning before any other human wanderers woke. I knew the low sun would set the golden tendrils of the yellow birch alight with faerie magic. I desperately wanted to be a part of the faerie world that would awaken there. I quickly scampered over the marshy boardwalks and into the forest where the wet ground muffled my footsteps, careful to make sure that Mom and Dad could still see me from the tent if they needed to. Few birds were chirping and the silence settled around me like a mist over the forest.

Then one noise did come to me as I silently bounded up a small slope, a twig cracking to my left. I looked over quickly and caught sight of a lovely black rump disappearing silently into the forest. I instinctively knew, without a doubt, that it was a unicorn. For a moose, even a calf, was never so elegantly shaped.

This was rather like a thoroughbred horse, and the light that reflected off the well-muscled hindquarters revealed the coat to be short-haired, sleek, and black as night. A moose would have been shaggy and brown. It was too large for a deer, too dark, and too quiet to have meant to be seen. The likelihood of a wild foal wandering deep in Fundy National Park alone is about the same as a unicorn, so there you have it.

If such creatures do exist with the wisdom all the faerie stories describe them as having, it makes sense that they keep themselves hidden away in nature preserves. Only a few odd girls like me would be about to catch a glimpse of them, and who would believe them? Seems to me I also have been known to dance with faeries on occasion and that might make it hard for people to believe me.

I’ll tell you about the faeries another day. But I will leave you with this – magic happens in the forest. Things happen in the forest. Things no one would ever believe. But I know, and now you know, even if you are a rather naughty diary.

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January 9th

I was a little bothered about the feeling like this diary was laughing at me when I wrote about the unicorn so I talked it over with Mom.

How am I supposed to share my deep dark secrets with a diary that laughs at me? I asked her.

Mom smiled, Well, sweetie, your diary has never been written in before, maybe it’s a little nervous. Are you nervous, diary?

Maybe…what do I do about that, I asked.

What would you do if it was a kid you just met and wanted to be friends with?

I guess I would introduce myself and tell them about myself.

Mom nodded, That sounds like a good start.

It was still laughing at me, though, I worried.

Mom reached out and ruffled my hair, Lots of people are going to laugh at you in life. You just be yourself and they’ll come around. In the meantime, I really think you ought to start by introducing yourself, because you never know until you try.

She’s probably right. So…hello there, dear diary. The best of my friends call me Nature Girl. The Stately King of Firs gave me that name and somehow it just stuck. I spend all my spare time in the woods. Our forest is a wonderful place full of enchantment and glimpses into the faerie world. The way I see it, the faerie world lives right on top of our own, and since we frolic in the same forest, I like to think we’re friends. Every once in a while, I can see a faerie or two which seems to shock them very much. I hope I don’t offend them, but it’s very hard not to look.

The forest has everything a proper forest should; there’s a brook, a few meadows, and trees of every kind. Right now, it’s all very wintry and brimming with lots of secrets hidden beneath the snow.

The Stately King of Firs watches over it all. The forest creatures – plant, critter, and faerie alike – call him that with the deepest respect. You see, the Stately King of Firs has a rare talent: he can talk to every sort of creature, not just trees. He says it’s because he listens with his heart, and he’s teaching me how to listen like this as well. I’m hardly as good as he is, but he does have a very big heart. Since he can do this, he is able to help out when the forest creatures find themselves in trouble. The forest creatures manage to get themselves into a lot of trouble, so he is always helping out in one way or another. That’s why the forest gave him the name of ‘the Stately King of Firs.’

A young pine tree once told me that the reason the Stately King of Firs learned so well to listen with his heart was because of his dryad. He and his dryad were placed under a miscommunication curse by an evil sorceress.

What’s a dryad? I asked, because I didn’t know very much about trees and dryads back then.

A dryad is a kind of tree fairy. They are born with their tree and every tree’s dryad is their best friend and constant companion throughout their lives. A deeper bond you’ll never find. But because of the curse the Stately King of Firs wasn’t even able to talk things over with their dryad! The young pine shuddered at the thought. The curse twisted and changed their words so they couldn’t understand each other.

Like making their meanings the opposite?

Not even, because that, at least, would have been a pattern they could have figured out. This curse just made their words to each other nonsense.

Why would she do that to them?

Well, and this is just a rumor, of course, the sorceress came into the forest to steal all the spring eggs from the birds’ nests. Her plan was to petrify them into beads so she could wear the pretty blue and speckled eggs as a necklace.

"Of course, that would have left all the bird parents broken-hearted and there wouldn’t be any joyous bird song for the forest to enjoy. Luckily, the King’s dryad caught wind of her plan before the eggs were petrified. They worked together, the King and the dryad; you see he couldn’t talk to anyone else just yet. They came up with a plan to hide all the eggs in a secret hollow near the top of the King’s biggest branch.

"The dryad smuggled all the eggs away when the sorceress was sleeping, but when the dryad went back to make sure they hadn’t left anyone behind the sorceress awoke and caught them. And that’s when the sorceress set the curse.

Most trees would just suffer in loneliness and wither away, but the Stately King of Firs was made of harder wood than all that. He just wouldn’t let it go and he kept on trying until the day came when he discovered that his heart could show him the way. It took time, but eventually he learned enough that he could finally talk with his dryad at last. Hearts don’t have many barriers unless you let them, and soon the King discovered that it wasn’t only his dryad he could speak with, but all the creatures that he met from that day on.

I always love that story. Yet there is another love that the Stately King of Firs holds dear, and without this the King would never be properly introduced.

You see, the Stately King of Firs is in love with the Wind. It took many years before the Stately King of Firs was tall enough to accept the Wind’s embrace. When he finally reached up high enough, his heart was lost forever. The Wind is his one true love and she loves him too, quite fiercely. I’ve seen her tickle his boughs till he shrieked with laughter and I’ve also seen them waltzing together under a bright full moon. Not a day goes by without her loving caresses drifting through his branches.

I wondered once if she was angry with him after a particularly stormy night, so I asked him. He advised me that there are many different winds with many different wills and moods, and that storms are many separate winds that have banded together. I was quite relieved to discover his lover was not abusing him.

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January 11 th

I am feeling quite properly introduced now, but I do suppose that I should tell you about how I met the Stately King of Firs. It was a very long time ago, when I was still quite small. It was summer and my brother and I were playing hide-and-go-seek in the forest. He was taking a really long time to seek me out, which I should have been used, because as an older brother, he often thought it great fun to just stop and go play at something else when I was hiding.

I had tucked myself in beneath some big ferns and leaned against the trunk of an old fir tree. His bark was rather flaky and stabby so it wasn’t terribly comfortable.

It was then that I noticed some rather juicy looking berries sitting temptingly on a nearby plant. They didn’t look like any berries I was used to, but they did look delicious. Of course, this was terribly foolish of me to think, and really, I should have known better. One should never eat strange berries in the forest.

I was about to pop one of those berries into my mouth when a strange voice from somewhere close said urgently, That might make you sick.

I dropped the berry and scanned the woods for the source of that voice. I was confused; it almost seemed as though it had sounded in my ears alone. There wasn’t anyone around at all. I stood up to look further, straining my ears, but all I could hear was the distant rustling of leaves.

I looked up and put my hand out to touch the tree beside me. He was standing tall and elegant, smelling sweetly of pitch.

Who said that? I whispered fearfully.

Don’t be frightened, said the voice again, I’m just an old fir tree.

I didn’t know trees could talk, I said in amazement.

He chuckled a little, his boughs bouncing up and down, I didn’t know humans could listen.

Immediately I asked him what it was like to be a tree. He asked me what it was like to be a human. I’d never really given that much thought. Then he told me of the joys of dancing with the Wind, watching the seasons come and go, and hearing the news of the forest through his roots. He explained to me that beneath the soil, the roots of all plants and trees intertwine together to share their stories. Messages could be carried back and forth so long as there were roots, and one could hear of anything happening almost anywhere. It was all so fascinating and new to me that I peppered him with questions, curious about every aspect of those root stories. Despite the fact that he seemed very old, he wasn’t like most grown ups that grow impatient with too many questions. He even told me where the best strawberries grow!

Then I heard Mom calling me inside so I had to go, but not before I promised to come and visit him again.

When I got inside my Dreamery (that’s what I call my bedroom) I peeked out the window, wondering if I could make out my new friend from there. Sure enough, there was the Stately King of Firs, waving merrily to me from the forest.

The King is one of my best friends. Sometimes I wish that he could go for a walk with me, just because it’s so much fun to explore the forest. I never say that to him, of course, and he has a great deal more adventures rooted to the ground than I could ever dream of.

Still…I don’t think I could give up the wonderful things you come across just walking in the forest for even the deepest roots.

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January