mulberry tree
The Future That Uncle Augustine 🌟 Saw A Magical Story That No One Ever Forgotten
It was a warm Sunday afternoon. The windmill turned lazily as the golden rays of the sun filtered through the branches of the blackberry tree. The children sat on the grass, forming a semicircle in front of Uncle Augustine, who was resting on his wooden bench with a sprig of wheat in his mouth and his hat tilted back.
Tomás, the most curious of the group, raised his hand and asked:
«Uncle Augustine… what will the world be like in a hundred years?»
The old farmer smiled slowly, like someone discovering an old question stored in his memory. He adjusted his suspenders, looked toward the windmill, and then at the sky, which was beginning to turn orange.
«A hundred years? Quite a question, boy…» he said. «Well, if you’ll allow me, I’ll tell you what the north wind whispered to me as it passed through the windmill’s blades.»
The children settled more comfortably. Even Grandma Maria, who was in the kitchen, peeked her head out the window, smiling.
«Imagine a world where people talk to each other through small mirrors that fit in your pocket,» said Uncle Augustine. «Not letters, not telegrams… but words that fly through the air like mosquitoes.»
The children’s eyes widened.
«And how do they see themselves?» asked Sofia.
«As if you were looking into a clear pond. You can see someone else’s face even if they’re on another continent. And there will be trains that fly, and cars that don’t make any noise, and lights everywhere, even on their shoes. But there will also be people who, despite having all that, will feel very alone.»
The children remained silent. Only the crickets’ chirping could be heard.
«Why, Uncle?» asked Rita.
«Because they’ll forget how to listen. From sitting like that, under a tree.» To look into their eyes and say, «I’m here, with you.» Many will run, but they won’t know where they’re going.
At that moment, a sudden wind stirred the leaves of the tree. The windmill, which had been almost motionless, began to spin vigorously, even though there was no visible breeze. A soft glow, like stardust, fell from the sky and seemed to envelop the children.
They instinctively closed their eyes… and then they saw it.
A shining city, with glass towers and flickering lights. People talking to themselves, walking with earplugs. Children in front of light boxes, moving their fingers without ever getting dirty with dirt. Grandparents looking at screens to see their grandchildren who live far away.
But they also saw something else.
A girl hugging her dog in the middle of a storm. A boy watering a plant in an old pot. An old woman teaching how to make bread. And a group of children under a huge tree, listening to a man in a hat telling them a story.
When they opened their eyes, the glow was gone. The mill returned to its peaceful rhythm. Uncle Agustín was still there, but now with his eyes closed and a half-smile beneath his mustache.
«Maybe this is what the future will look like… or maybe not,» he murmured. «But if you grow up with respect, with love for the land and for people, then the world of tomorrow will be beautiful. Because no matter how modern the future is… it will always need good hearts.»
Grandmother Maria came out with a tray of bread and a bowl of fresh water.
«Something tells me important things were discussed,» she said, as she handed out pieces of bread.
Tomás took his, but said nothing. He just looked toward the mill and then at the tree.
«I…» he said softly, «want to plant a tree tomorrow.»
And that night, under the starry sky, no one spoke of the future again. Because somehow, everyone knew… that it had already begun.
The Mill and the Flower of Wishes 🌟 | Children’s Story about Generosity and Kindness 🌟
It was a moonlit night in Grandmas orchard. The Chicago Air Motor windmill, its metal blades shining in the silver light, was turning gently, as it always did when the north wind blew. But that night something different happened.
The children, gathered under the mulberry tree with Uncle Augustine, noticed a peculiar glow in the windmill. “Look!” exclaimed Sofia, the youngest of the group, pointing at the blades that were beginning to turn faster than usual.
The old farmer, with his straight-brimmed hat and a wheat straw between his lips, slowly stood up. “Something special is happening, children. That windmill only turns like that when it wants to tell us something important,” he said as the children followed him curiously.
Suddenly, a gentle breeze laden with a sweet aroma filled the air. Small luminous seeds began to fall from the blades of the windmill, shining like tiny stars. The seeds floated gently before settling on the ground.
“What are these seeds, Uncle?” “These are the seeds of the Wish Flower, a magical plant that only blooms on nights like this,” asked Mateo, the eldest of the group, carefully picking up one of the lights.
Uncle Augustine smiled, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of the years. “These are the seeds of the Wish Flower, a magical plant that only blooms on nights like this. But be careful, children, it is not just any flower. It only sprouts if it is planted with generosity and if the wish you make is not selfish.”
Intrigued, the children began to carefully pick up the seeds. “Can we plant them now?” asked Sofia, excitedly.
“Of course,” replied Uncle Augustine, leading them to a small corner of the garden where the soil was softer. With careful hands, each child planted a seed and closed their eyes to make their wish.
Mateo wished that his father would come home early from work so they could play together. Sofia asked that her friend, who had been sick for weeks, could go back to school. The other children also made wishes full of kindness and love.
At dawn, the garden was filled with exclamations. The seeds had germinated, and in their place grew beautiful, brightly colored flowers, each radiating a soft light.
Uncle Augustine gathered them under the mulberry tree. “Do you see what happens when you plant with generosity? The Wish Flower not only fulfills what you ask for, it also lights up the hearts of those who grow it. Now go and wait. You will see that, in time, your wishes will come true.”
And so it was. As the days went by, Mateo was surprised to see that his father wanted to play with him when he came home from work, while Sofia saw her friend come into the living room with a smile. The children understood that the windmill and its flowers not only fulfilled wishes, but also taught a great lesson: the most powerful wishes are those that are born of love and generosity.
Since then, every night of the full moon, the children wait under the mulberry tree to see if the windmill magically turns once more, always ready to plant new wishes and fill the garden with light and hope.
Thank you for joining us in this magical story. If you liked it, don’t forget to subscribe to our channel, leave a «Like» and activate the bell so you don’t miss our next adventures. Until next time!
The Mill of Forgotten Heroes | Stories to Dream | Fantasy and Life Lessons
Under the blackberry tree in Grandma’s orchard, Uncle Augustine settled into his weathered wooden chair, his straight-brimmed hat strapped on. Two boys and three girls, eyes bright with curiosity, gathered around him as the last rays of the sun tinted the sky orange and purple. The Chicago Air Motor windmill turned slowly in the background, illuminated by the soft light of dusk.
«You know,» Uncle Augustine said, stroking his mustache, «this windmill isn’t like the others. There are afternoons like this when, if you listen carefully, you can hear it whisper stories.»
The children exchanged surprised glances. «Stories?» asked Anita, hugging her sketchbook.
Uncle Augustine nodded. «A long time ago, this windmill witnessed forgotten heroes, people who made a difference with acts of bravery and solidarity. And when the wind is right, it tells us their stories.»
That afternoon, the wind began to blow softly, turning the windmill’s blades. A melodious murmur filled the air. The children fell silent as the windmill’s words came to life.
The first story was about Maria, a young shepherdess who saved her village from a drought by sharing her water with everyone, even when she barely had any for herself. As Uncle Augustine translated the windmill’s whispers, the children imagined Maria walking under the scorching sun with her clay jug, bringing hope to each house.
The windmill continued to turn, revealing the story of Don Julian, an old carpenter who had rebuilt a broken bridge so the villagers could cross a raging river. With each word, images came to life in the little ones’ minds, filling them with admiration for the courage and goodness of these heroes.
«Every hero had something in common,» Uncle Augustine said as the windmill stopped, letting silence fill the orchard. «They weren’t strong or powerful, but they had big hearts and a huge desire to help others.»
The children reflected in silence, inspired by the stories from the windmill. The first stars were beginning to appear in the sky when Uncle Augustine stood up and with a smile, said: «For today, the windmill has spoken. If you want to hear more stories, come back soon. But remember, each of you can be a hero in your own way. You just need to listen to your heart and act with kindness.»
Before saying goodbye, Uncle Augustine added with a wink: «Don’t forget to leave a ‘Like’ for this story, subscribe to the channel and ring the bell so YouTube will notify you when we upload a new adventure. Until next time, little heroes!»
With laughter and thanks, the children dispersed, carrying with them the promise to return under the mulberry tree, where the whispering windmill and Uncle Augustine were waiting for them with new stories.