Peter in Blueberry Land

It was Mother’s birthday. Peter wanted to bring her a special present. He took his little basket and walked into the quiet forest. He looked under leaves. He looked beside the moss. But there were no berries at all.

“I must find some,” Peter whispered. “Mother loves blueberries.” A tear rolled down his cheek.

Just then, a tiny man in a blue coat peeped out from behind a fern. His hat was shaped like a blueberry. He bowed very low. “I am the King of Blueberry Land,” he said kindly. “Why are you so sad, little boy?”

“I can’t find any berries for Mother’s birthday,” said Peter.

“Ah,” said the King. “The berries are hiding. Let me help.” He touched Peter with a slender twig. In a blink, Peter was no taller than a toadstool!

The forest grew huge and grand. The moss became a soft green carpet. Blueberry children, with round blue caps and neat blue jackets, peeked out from under shining leaves. They giggled and waved. “We were keeping the berries safe,” they told him. “Now we will show you.”

Peter followed the Blueberry King and the blueberry children. Everywhere he looked, he saw plump, dark-blue berries tucked under the green leaves. The little folk picked gently and sang soft forest songs. “Pick with care,” they said. “Leave some for the birds and the bears.”

Peter picked and picked. His small basket filled. Then another small basket filled. Soon there were heaps of berries, cool and sweet.

“You have been very helpful,” said the King. “Your mother would like red lingonberries too. Shall we visit my dear friend, the Queen of Lingonberry Land?”

“Yes, please!” said Peter.

They walked over silvery moss and past tiny tree roots like bridges. At last they came to a sunny patch, bright as a smile. Out stepped the Lingonberry Queen in a shining red dress, with a crown like a crimson berry. Around her danced cheerful lingonberry children in red caps.

“Welcome, Peter,” said the Queen. “Let us gather our berries for your mother.”

The lingonberry children spread out like little sparks of light. They showed Peter the glossy red berries, glowing under their leaves. Together they filled more baskets. The Queen braided a wreath of green sprigs and red berries. “A birthday wreath,” she said. “For someone you love.”

Peter’s heart felt warm. “Thank you,” he said.

Now the baskets were full—blue and red, the colors of the forest. The Blueberry King smiled. “It is time for you to go home.” He lifted his twig again and touched Peter’s shoulder.

In a blink, Peter was his own size. He stood by the forest path with his big basket, brimming with blueberries and lingonberries. The berry wreath rested on top, fresh and bright. The tiny folk had slipped away as softly as dew.

Peter hurried home. “Mother! Mother!” he called.

Mother opened the door. Her eyes shone. “Peter! What a wonderful birthday surprise!”

Peter set the basket on the table and placed the wreath in Mother’s hands. “Forest friends helped me,” he said, and he smiled a secret smile.

That evening they ate warm pancakes with berry jam. Mother hung the red-and-green wreath in the window. Peter looked out toward the dark trees and whispered, “Thank you, Blueberry King. Thank you, Queen of Lingonberry Land.”

Far away, in the quiet forest, the leaves rustled as if someone small and happy had bowed and waved.