Jenny had a green garden. It was the joy of her life. Each day she would sit in her garden watering her plants, mowing the lawn, trimming the white willows that reached out for sky so proudly. She would greet the little squirrels that collected acorns for the coming autumn, though in Jenny's garden, it seemed, autumn would never come.

She would tend her pansies and her dandelions. In the evening when it got a bit darker, she would sit down in her white pavilion and listen, as the grasshoppers played their violins on the leaves of her rosebays. And how the blackbirds sung their beautiful tune for the sun, that was finally lying himself down on the tender cloudy pillows to have a well earned rest.

Jenny had always imagined, that without the blackbirds, the sun might not rise again. Thusly she treasured the birds, and filled them a tray every noon, with sunflower seeds, wheat and rye flakes. And without her grasshoppers, who called the moon from her slumbers to bring light to the cold of the night, without them, she was afraid the garden would miss its brilliant green glow that it had only in the midnight.

Fireflies woke up every night. They only worked during the night because of their phosphor. Because the first firefly told his grandchildren, while they were still but grubs, that it is important for them to rest days and gather sunlight, with which they could then shine with the moon during the night. So every night the happy swarm of fireflies came to greet the moon, and the moon smiled upon Jenny's garden.

On especially warm nights Jenny would read her book until she got tired. Then the worms would dig under the grass and make it soft for Jenny to lay down. She would then sleep until morning, when the sun got up again to release the moon from its work.

Jenny had build a little wooden fence that begun on the other side of a pond and went on for six yards. On this fence she let her wildwine grow. The wildwine kept loneliness away. The wildwines best friend was the grapewine on the other side of the tiny pond. They would talk all day through. But because they both had a very soft voice, the fish in the pond would carry their words for them. And because the wildwine was very pretty and the grapewine was very good with words, the fish were happy to listen to them.

The fish really liked poetry, but they were born under the water so they could not learn to speak as plants did. They envied plants and animal like squirrels. But because of their love in poetry, they were more than happy to act as messengers. It made them feel like they were their own words they were speaking. And at nights the fish, perches and roaches would hop on the water to celebrate their position in the garden.

Jenny would give the fish some small pieves of bread every now and then, and they were happy. At the same time she would water the wildwine and the grapewine, if it hadn't rained in a few days.

One day the Wildwine told the fish:

”I feel, like I've been blessed. Every time I want water, Jenny comes and gives it to me. And of she doesn't, I'll just try, and look a bit down, and she'll come. That's how you know someone loves you.”

The fish wanted to reply, but because they weren't as good with words, they just springed to the other side of the little pond and told the grapewine what the wildwine had told them.

”Ah, but true love is not only in water but in the eyes of your love and inside them. For he who seeks love must look deeper before he knows what he's looking for.”

And the fish sighed, because grapewine was so good with words, but because they couldn't reply, they went to wildwine and said, what they had heard, and looked proudly at each other.

”Indeed,” said the squirrel, who had overheard the conversation. ”It's a bliss and it's a bless. Be it Jenn or Tess, I'd rather keep my acorns than your thorns.” And he smiled at the wildwine. The squirrels were playful little children, and they talked like one would expect.

And the oak liked it. He thought it was funny, so he dropped some more of his acorns for them. And the white willows hissed in the wind, because they liked to do that, and because they wanted to tell, that they agreed with wildwine. That Jenny loved them because she kept them pretty and watered them.

A grasshopper hopped closeby and said a few words:

”When I was a child I couldn't play my violin like my friends. So I decided to leave. Because if you're a grasshopper you can see the whole world, you can leave...”

”Oh but I see the world because I'm tall,” said the oak.

”And we, because the wind tells us,” told the white willows.

”...I left the garden. Because there's a place outside the garden that's horrific. And everything is scary, and everything is dry there. And nothing really grows there. And on my way, I came across some gypsies...”

”I know gypsies,” said the oak. ”I sometimes see them from up here.”

”We know the gypsies,” told the white willows. ”The wind tells us stories.”

”Shhh!” said the perch, and was very proud of himself.

”...I sat down, and each night, when we play the violin, and the blackbirds sing to our music, the gypsies would also sit down and play their violin. And so I asked one gypsy, how to play like they do. He told me one should always listen to what comes from their heart. And then playing happens by itself. So I came back, and showed my friends what I had learned.” The grasshopped paused for a while. ”And because they were here always, they only knew one song. But I knew more. And that is why, every night, when Jenny listens to us, he likes me the most, because I play from my heart. Because my music comes from the inside.”

A blackbird happened to har what he had said and sat on the fence.

”A blackbird never learns. A blackbird sings always from the heart. And that is why the sun comes back every morning. Because the sun loves what comes from the heart, not what is on the outside.” She let out a little tune, and the sun was surprised, because blackbirds only sing at late evenings.

”I love Jenny, because she loves everyone,” said the grapewine, and the fish listened to her and told it to the wildwine.

”I love Jenny, because she helps everyone.” The wildwine couldn't see the difference.

A firefly, that had been sleeping on the leaf of a dandelion looked from under her eyebrow and said:

”Perhaps we should wait for Jenny to come, because she comes soon, and tends us all. Perhaps we should ask her how one knows what love is. Because Jenny loves us, she must know what love is.”

”Wise words fly. I agree,” said the oak, and would have dropped some acorns, but flies don't eat acorns.

”Why bother,” said the white willow. ”It's obvious, that I love her because she loves me. How could that not be what love is?”

”Because...” said the roach, but because she was bad with words, she dived under the water.

”Because I too love her,” continued the pansy, who usually didn't speak, but when she did, she spoke wise words, and everyone listened. ”But I don't love her like you do. And if we love in different was, then how can only your way be right? Or only mine for that matter. No, we must wait for Jenny, because she loves us all, and if we love her differently, she must love us differently. And that is not possible, of course.

And Jenny came to water the pansies and the dandelions, and to feed the fish with bread and to give sunflower seeds to the blackbirds and to water the wildwine and the grapewine. And she brought good new earth for the white willow to grow in. And all the animals and the flowers and the trees said:

”We love you Jenny.” And the pansy continued:

”Jenny. We have been thinking. How does one love one another? The wildwine says you love him because he loves you, but the grapewine says you love her because of what she has in her heart. What is the real way to love, Jenny?”

”Yes, how does one love,” the squirrel repeated.

”Oh,” said Jenny. ”When you open a little box, you see a little garden inside it. And in this garden you see everything that is beautiful. And everyone has this little box, but they won't find it until they fall in love. For some this is easy, for some this is difficult.”

”And in that box there's a beautiful girl who gives you everything you need?” asked the wildwine, and the fish told the grapewine what he had said.

”And in that box is you heart tied to someone elses heart?” asked the grapewine, and the fish told the wildwine what she had said.

”And in that box is sadness and happiness, safety and distress?” asked the squirrel, and the oak dropped some acorns for him.

”And in that box is pride on a two way rail that comes together?” asked the white willows, and the wind tickled their leaves.

”You are right, all those things are in the little box.” Jenny nodded.

”And is there beautiful music that never stops?” asked the grasshopper and the blackbird together.

”There's beautiful music that never ends. And when you close that little box, you treasure it, and keep it in the safest place you can find. And that place is inside you, where only you can find it. And when you love someone...”

The flowers and the trees and the animals all leaned closer.

”..And when you love someone, you open the box, and you show them what's inside of it. And they do the same.”

The fish sighed, they thought her words were beautiful. Everyone looked puzzled, even the squirrek, who normally would have been cheery.

”Now that you know this,” Jenny giggled. ”Why would you argue over something so silly?”

”Is love then something stupid?” asked the pansy, who was wise, and everyone nodded and looked at Jenny.

”Love is something fun. And something sad and something beautiful and something silly. It's something pretty and something easy, it's something that tickles and something happy. But most of all, it's something, that makes people stupid. So love is stupid. But...”

”But what, Jenny?” Asked the oak.

”But if you don't have love... that's something stupid.”

All the animals and the trees and the flowers looked at each other. Now they understood, and everyone smiled. And the wildwine sent his love to the grapewine, and the fish carried it over the water.