This beautiful story took place in an ordinary school garden in spring. On warm May days, schoolchildren came in crowds to their garden to plant another tree.
In this park there already grew an oak, maple, pine, spruce, birch, rowan, poplar, willow, lilac and aspen. And the children decided that their beautiful and well-maintained garden was missing only an apple tree. The sapling was tall and seemed sturdy.
The children planted the little apple tree near the edge of the clearing, where an oak, maple and rowan grew beside it. And as soon as people left the park, the trees came alive and talked to each other.
Look at this marvel! Who are you?
The handsome Oak asked with enviable interest.
Oh, what could possibly be interesting about her!? Just another 'dull' little tree that won't be able to decorate our garden any better than I do!
The Rowan said with obvious displeasure.
And yet, who are you?
The Oak persisted.
I am an apple tree.
The sapling said barely audibly.
Well, an Apple Tree – that's not bad!
The Oak concluded, who apparently held the position of elder in this garden.
And what will you surprise us with, dear Apple Tree? Perhaps you bloom fragrantly like our Lilac, or blossom beautifully like our Willow, or perhaps you have clusters of scarlet berries ripening like our incomparable Rowan?
Hmm, well really!
The Rowan hastened to object to such an insulting comparison.
The little apple tree only lowered her thin, bare branches to the ground in shame.
I don't know.
She answered barely audibly. It was so unusual for her to observe such close attention from all the trees around. And she truly knew nothing about herself. How she bloomed, what her leaves were like and whether there would be fruit. And around her were so many beautiful and unusual trees! She was especially captivated by this handsome Oak – stately, strong and very beautiful.
We'll see.
The Oak only said. The trees exchanged glances with obvious disappointment, as they apparently wanted to see something special in their garden so that more and more visitors would come each time. After all, how pleasant it is to see admiring looks around one's person!
Time passed... Summer gave way to cool autumn. Winter hurried after it, covering all the trees with its warm and snow-white blanket. And spring came again and the trees began to wake from their sleep. To fill with colour, strength and fragrance.
And only the Apple Tree remained almost unchanged. Buds appeared on her rarely. From them grew ordinary, unremarkable leaves. There were neither flowers nor fruit on her. She increasingly noticed how the neighbouring trees looked at her. Some showed obvious disappointment, others indifference, and still others dislike.
Only the Oak did not show his negative feelings. And with each passing day, the little Apple Tree understood that she liked him more and more. So strong, warlike, majestic.
By the end of summer, any tree in the area could have envied his crown. Children often ran to the park to him to hide from the scorching rays of the sun or drops of rain.
But there was another tree in the garden that could be called the 'jewel' of the garden. It was the Rowan. Beautiful, slender, bright and incredibly bold. No one could offer her their love, as she considered everyone unworthy of her attention, except the handsome Oak, whom she loved. And the Oak, at times, involuntarily gazed at the beauty. And how could he not!
When autumn came, no other tree in the garden could compare with her beauty. Bright orange and red leaves, in which burned equally bright clusters of berries. And such beauty accompanied the Rowan right through to winter.
Even under the white snowy blanket, the juicy berries glowed red. From the arrival of autumn and deep into winter, only the Rowan was not deprived of attention. First children and adults come to look at her, and then her branches know no peace from restless flocks of birds.
And only the little Apple Tree observed all the metamorphoses of the trees from the side. She had nothing to answer or show. And it seemed to her that it would always be this way.
But one day, already in late autumn, when not a single leaf remained on any tree in the garden, the very schoolchildren who had once planted her came up to the Apple Tree, accompanied by their teacher. They looked at the tree with indignation and hurt.
It's a pity, but it seems our apple tree is unlikely to survive this winter. It's so weak and doesn't adapt well to its new location.
The teacher said.
What will happen to it if it doesn't survive the cold?
Asked a curious and sympathetic boy, sadly stroking the Apple Tree on a branch.
Then we'll have to dig it up and plant another.
The teacher answered and led all the children back to school.
Only that same boy remained standing near the Apple Tree, who seemed to feel all the pain that this fragile little tree had experienced from the teacher's words. He hugged the Apple Tree around the trunk and quietly said to her:
Please don't freeze this winter. I believe that you will still blossom and grow in our garden for a very long time. See you in spring!
Before falling into a deep winter sleep, the little Apple Tree begged and pleaded with winter to take pity on her. And winter, hearing her plea, helped, covering the tree with a thick downy blanket, and thus saved the Apple Tree from the harsh cold.
The Apple Tree dreamed a beautiful dream: as if she stood all in white, as if in snow, but the snow on her didn't melt, although it was already spring and quite warm. And around her reigned silent awe and wonder.
Upon waking, the Apple Tree understood that this was far from a dream, but reality. She truly stood all in white. But it was not snow, but snow-white flowers that enveloped her fragile branches in beautiful apple blossom. And what a fragrance these flowers gave off!
Everything around was fragrant. The neighbouring trees stood before the Apple Tree in complete bewilderment. Just last autumn she barely lived, but now spring had come and the tree seemed to have been replaced. Everyone admired the extraordinary beauty of the apple tree. Everyone, except the Rowan. She could not forgive that someone had managed to surpass her beauty.
Never mind, my time will come soon. Autumn will arrive, and then we'll see who is more beautiful.
The Rowan repeated each time she heard enthusiastic remarks about the Apple Tree.
And the little Apple Tree only bloomed and modestly remained silent to every compliment. And to the admiring glances of the handsome Oak, she shyly covered herself with branches, which made him all the more enchanted with her.
A hot summer passed and finally the long-awaited autumn arrived. All the trees began to change their green attire for gold and crimson. And the Apple Tree was no exception. Her leaves were not distinguished by originality in colour.
Which greatly pleased her rival the Rowan. This was the Rowan's time! She had spread her orange-red leaves and, like fans, bright clusters of berries. Her attire challenged the Apple Tree and beckoned the handsome Oak. No one was equal to the Rowan in the brightness of their attire.
On that clear autumn day, many people came to the garden. Adults and children walked through the garden and admired the autumn trees. And suddenly, that same boy who had once hugged the little Apple Tree ran up to her and shouted to his friends:
Guys, look, our apple tree has apples on it!
All the children rushed to the Apple Tree to see this marvel with their own eyes. And indeed, appetising red apples gleamed among the yellow-green leaves. The children reached for the branches of the Apple Tree, and each picked an apple for themselves.
The next moment the children crunched appetisingly. The apples turned out to be so juicy and sweet that their juice streamed down the chin of each child. They enthusiastically savoured the apple fruits, unable to tear themselves away.
Seeing this, the Rowan turned even redder, now from anger and envy, that the Apple Tree had again managed to attract everyone's attention. In her indignation, she decided to prove to everyone that she too had juicy and beautiful berries, and knocked a bright cluster of berries from her branch. A boy running past stopped, examining the fallen bunch.
Wow!
Exclaimed the boy and picked up the bright berries. The Rowan, meanwhile, smiled contentedly and her pride returned to her. The boy meanwhile picked one of the berries and with pleasure put it in his mouth. And then his face twisted into a grimace of disgust.
Ugh, how bitter it is!
He cried out and spat out the remains of the chewed berry onto the ground.
These are berries for birds.
Concluded the quick-witted boy, and skipped off to the now beloved Apple Tree for another helping of apples.
When the Rowan found herself completely alone, without the attention she was used to from those around her, only then did she understand what the Apple Tree had felt all this time when she was unwanted and uninteresting, and only sighed silently.
And the little Apple Tree was surrounded by children right up to deep autumn, wanting to enjoy her tasty and sweet fruit. And the trees around looked at her now with respect and admiration. And the handsome Oak did everything he could to attract attention and please the newly-minted beauty of the garden.
He both praised himself and demonstrated his mighty strength, but could not interest the delicate Apple Tree. Because she was already infinitely in love with the young and slender Maple. The Maple had long been able to win the heart of the young beauty.
This time they fell into winter sleep gently, their branches intertwined with each other.
