“Gather round, children! Grandpa D has a story to tell!”

A small horde of little feet scampered into the den, scurrying and playfully jostling each other in an attempt to find the best seat before the fire. Tiny hands clutched bowls and cups and plates filled with candies of many sizes. Pieces flew between the containers as tiny mouths urged each other to trade one delicacy for another. Cheeks grew round as they became stuffed with sugary goodness.

Grandpa D was old. Ancient, in their eyes. His wrinkles had wrinkles that formed creases about his massive smile. To the children, he may have been the oldest man in existence.

“Young ones, have I ever told you how sugar first came to Clover?”

Tiny heads shook in the negative as the tiny mouths were full.

“No? Well, tonight’s the night, then!” The old man leaned forward to the nearest child with an open palm. “May I?”

Tiny fingers hesitated but for a scant moment before selecting the largest piece within their cup and placing it into the old man’s hand.

“Oh! A Dandelion Dreamdrop!” Grandpa D popped the treat into his mouth and rolled it about on his tongue. “My absolute favorite, thank you dear.” The little girl smiled brightly as she settled back onto her cushion.

“Now…in the beginning, Clover wasn’t called Clover yet. Back then, all we had for treats were fruit. But the fruits we had were not like the fruits you enjoy today, oh no! These were bland things. Apples were dry and tasted like crackers, and oranges were just like lemons. You see, in the beginning… nothing was sweet.”

Gasps could be heard around the room.

“Oh my, yes. But then the most marvelous thing happened!”

“What happened, Grandpa D?” A tiny voice chirped from the back of the room.

The old man’s smile grew and grew as he settled into his chair. “We met the bees! Such dainty little things! Where they came from, we aren’t sure, but those of us who were there remember the day they arrived.”

“It was the thirty-first of October and the last of the apples had just been harvested. We were excited because it was time to make cider. Cider back then was one of the few ways where the normally bland apples could be something more. Something special! It was an adult’s favorite drink, you see. It made the winter pass more quickly and kept the conversations warm throughout the snow. We think it was for this reason that the Queen of the Bees decided to visit.”

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“With sugarspun wings and cotton candy fur, she came buzzing in! Her crown of licorice balanced and bobbed as she flew from vat to vat, tasting and sampling. We didn’t know what to do! But the more she tasted, the sadder she seemed to become.”

The same little girl who had shared her bounty piped up. “Why was she so sad, Grandpa?”

“Ah, I was just getting to that part! She was sad because she didn’t like the taste! Oh how frustrated she was. Her bottom waggled and wiggled as she danced upon the jugs of cider. She frowned and sighed as she jiggled and wobbled upon the baskets of apples. Her wings beat and buzzed upon our cups and glasses. We were so surprised we couldn’t even move! Then we heard it.”

“Heard what?” “What did you hear?” “Ooooo, Grandpa D, you’re telling the story too slow!”

Grandpa D laughed and chortled. “We heard her family! She had called them to us. All one hundred million and eleventy thousand and two of them! Soon every cup and glass had a dancing bee upon it. Every apple, every tree! And as they danced and danced, we realized that something special was happening. For as their bodies buzzed and blitzed amongst the fruit and trees, sparkling dust was spread everywhere. Some got in our glasses and your Grandmother J dared me to take a sip.”

Everyone stopped to smile at the picture of their beautiful grandmother upon the fireplace mantle. Grandpa D’s smile was the biggest of them all.

“So, I did! And let me tell you, that sip was the best sip of cider that I have ever had in my entire life. It was crisp! Refreshing! Tart! But most of all, and most importantly…”

“What Grandpa, what!?” “Tell us Grandpa!”

“It was sweet! It bubbled and fizzed and tickled my tongue. It tasted just like the apples you know of today. I drank my whole glass and then tried to take your Grandmother’s, but she told me ‘no’. She saw how much I enjoyed it, so down it went into her tummy! Everyone was watching, of course, and joined in. We drank and drank and laughed and laughed. We shared our glasses with the bees and drank together for three whole days and nights! So grateful we were for the bees sharing a bit of their magic with us that we decided to invite them to stay with us. We built them houses that could withstand the cold. We shared our cider with them throughout the winter. Then, come springtime, we came to realize just how wondrous our bee friends were!”

The wrinkles seemed to smooth as Grandpa D became more animated with his telling. His smile grew and grew until it took up his entire face. The fireplace seemed to reflect off of his eyes, making them sparkle and shine.

“For you see, little ones, the bees had blessed our entire area with sugar! The flowers were sweet, the fruit was sweet! Even the water became sweet! We had been blessed. And that, my dears, is how sugar came to Clover.”

The much younger looking Grandpa D looked about the room. “Now, who else is willing to part with a Dandelion Dreamdrop for your Grandpa?”