Lexi's Request: Candy Mountain

Candy Mountain

Sisel, Liesel, and Penelope were siblings.  At the time of our adventure, Sisel was ten, the oldest in our group of three.  Liesel was nine, but had the maturity and height of most twelve to thirteen year olds.  And Penelope, well, she was seven and of an average seven year old height.

It was summer in Austria and the three Glockenspiel children had played every game they knew in the little field by their house.  Liesel had made Penelope so many crowns of wildflowers that Pen could barely hold her head upright.  Not that Liesel herself wanted to make another, her hands were aching and her pointer fingers stained green from all the stems.

“There’s nothing to do.” Remarked Sisel, lying on his back staring blankly up at the drifting clouds.

“We could collect berries.” Liesel answered.

“We picked all the berries months ago.”  Sisel said, shooting down Liesel’s suggestion.

“I bet there are still berries on Candy Mountain.”  Penelope piped up.

Candy Mountain, I’m not sure how many of you know about Candy Mountain.  Some children claimed it was a wonderful place, others said it was the most horrible and dark place imaginable.  Reality was that neither the children who thought it wonderful, nor the children who thought it horrible knew anything about it, they had never been.  Sisel, Liesel and Penelope had never been either, so all they knew was what other similarly ignorant children told them (and this, my young friends, is no way to learn anything!)

 

“It’s a four hour journey from here to the brambles,” Sisel said, in a somewhat discouraging tone, “and there probably aren’t any berries left there either” he added.

“Only one way to find out.”  Liesel said.

“Yay!!  Candy Mountain!” Pen cheered.

“If we go, and I haven’t said yes yet,” Sisel, being the oldest knew that he would be held responsible if anything went wrong, or, if their grandparents (with whom they were staying) ever found out.  “If we go,” he began again, “you two will have to listen to me.”  

Grandma Annaliese never said a bad word about Candy Mountain or the Strega who lived there.  Strega, do you know the term?  It’s a kind of witch, an Italian witch.  When they asked Grandmamma about the Strega, she just shook her head.  “There is an Italian woman who lives on the south-side of the mountain, by the upper-peak.  She and her husband were confectioners in town, but he died in a trolley accident after the war.  That’s all I know.  Whether or not she’s a Strega, I don’t know about all that.”  Their Grandpapa had stronger feelings on the subject.  He ran messages for Free-Austria, an underground organization that was working with the British and American allies during the war.  He said that it was no coincidence that the couple moved into town during the height of the war.  “Refugees,” he sneered when he said the word, “that man was a spy and everyone knew it, and as for the wife, she’s the definition of a Strega.  She killed that little girl with her butterscotches.” 

“She didn’t kill that little girl,” Grandma Annaliese interjected. “If anyone was to blame, it was her own mother.  Who gives a child with consumption hard-candy?  The child choked while having a coughing fit, that can hardly be the fault of the candy maker.  The child was wasting away, wouldn’t eat or drink anything, but she had a craving for the candy; and as for the coughing fit and the consumption, the good-Lord saw fit to give her that.  You can’t blame the Italian for the death of that child.”  The children’s grandmother made her statement with such finality that no one dared put forth any other comments. The whole town was divided on the subject.  And our little trio of siblings, well, they were divided themselves, Liesel against Sisel, the two of them against Pen, and they were divided in their own hearts and minds as well.  

Some of the kids in town said that the witch had bushes outside her house that grew bon-bons.  Others said that her house was a real-life version of the witches from Hansel and Gretel, made entirely of candy.  Still others said that the candy façade was all fake and that bushes didn’t grow bon-bons but rather poison berries.

“If we go,” Sisel said, “we won’t eat any candy or unknown berries.  Everything we pick we will bring home to be inspected by Grandmamma.  We’ll pack bread and cheese for our lunch and some cured meat for a snack.  We’ll have to leave by morning light in order to be back in time for dinner.  Do you two agree to these terms?”

“Yes, I promise to do everything you say.  I won’t eat anything other than what we bring.  We’ll just pick the berries and come home.” Liesel promised.

“I promise too.  Please, please.” Pen begged.

Needless to say, Sisel was persuaded to lead the group up Candy Mountain in search of berries (and a little adventure) the following morning.  At dinner that night Sisel was serious, thoughtful, and a little timid around his grandparents.  He didn’t like disobeying, or even misleading them.  Liesel was lost in all sorts of daydreams throughout the meal.  Mostly, she moved her potatoes, peas and gravy around her plate as she stared off out the window.  Pen ate everything.  The excitement of the trip only added to little Penelope’s appetite.  She ate her plate clean, asked for seconds, and when Grandma Annaliese brought out the gooseberry cobbler, her eyes and smile grew so wide she looked like she was going to fall out of her chair, she was so happy.

Body fed and teeth brushed, Sisel went off to bed, leaving the girls to climb the twisting stairs to their room.  The girl’s room sat like a hat on the head of the house, with the chimney rising alongside the upper-room like a plume sticking in its side, feathering out smoke.  Pen quickly put on her nightgown and dove into her spot on the bottom bunk.  Liesel, slid into her gown and slowly ascended the ladder to her bed above Pen’s.  Dreamily looking out her window at the moon, Liesel asked Penelope if she thought there really could be, such a thing, as a house made entirely out of candy.  Silence was her only answer.  Silence interspersed with little snorts and coos, what would sound to anyone else like a giant mourning-dove-pig, Liesel knew the sound to be Pen snoring.  

Ten can be a tough age; Liesel knew this to be true.  She felt as if she was standing on the threshold of something rather important, but she couldn’t tell if it was something great or horrible.  Liesel wanted to get lost in the magic of the world like Pen did, but lately, there was this nagging skepticism that crept in.  ‘Bushes full of bon-bons, how deliciously wonderful,’ Liesel thought, her chest filling with excitement, ‘but that was just a product of someone’s overactive imagination.  Such wonderful things couldn’t be real.’  And like a balloon, her chest fell and her hopes deflated.  There were two Liesel’s going on the expedition the next day, the Liesel who desperately wanted to be the first up the mountain to see the bon-bon bushes, and the Liesel who knew there was no such thing as bon-bon bushes.  Lying on her upper-bunk, both Liesels felt entirely alone in the quiet of the house.

Between the worrying and dreaming, the three did find moments of sleep, some more than others.  Until, “Cock-a-doodle-doo.”  The rooster sent all three bolt upright in their beds.  It was morning, morning already. Grandma Annaliese and Grandpa Friedrich always stayed in bed an extra twenty minutes after the rooster’s crow.  The children had it all timed out.  They had their clothes already set out on their chairs and ready to be thrown on.  Liesel being the quietest would stealthily go into the kitchen and load up on provisions.  Pen would go into the barn and collect the berry-picking buckets off their hooks and bring them to the meeting point under the apple trees at the edge of the little farm in the woods.  Sisel, being the oldest, would write the note.  It would only say that they went in search of some berries and that they would see them when they returned from town.  Every Saturday the children’s grandparents took a journey into town to do their shopping, a little butter, flour, and town gossip to last them the rest of the week.  This was an all-day event, so if all went well, no one would know if the children were gone an hour or seven, they were counting on this.

At the end of phase one, everything was going as planned.  Liesel had her stash of food and was sitting beside Pen, both on an upside down pail, with an empty pail beside them waiting for their brother.  The girls didn’t have to wait long before they saw Sisel trudging across the field.  While he had nothing in hand, he seemed to be carrying the weight of the world.  With a nod, signaling to the girls that the deed had been done, he grabbed the handle of his bucket and began the journey into the woods.

As they walked, the branches breaking beneath their feet sent small critters scurrying away from the band of human intruders.  I use the term human here merely as a technicality.  The first two in the group looked decidedly human, but as for the third, she appeared to be one of the wild beasts scampering about.  Had she not been wearing an embroidered dress and bonnet, it would have looked as if the older children were being chased by a fox or some other woodland creature.  Sisel led the way, sticking to the path that led straight up the steep slope.  Liesel followed closely behind her brother, stepping only where he did, in order to avoid dislodging a stone onto her little sister below.  The youngest in our group went left, then right, looked up, then back down the hill, taking everything in from all sides and senses as she followed the calls of her siblings ahead of her.

After the first ten minutes Pen complained that she was hungry.  A piece of bread was pulled out of Liesel pack and passed back.  After another ten minutes, Pen declared that she was still hungry and wondered if they were going to be taking a break anytime soon, since her feet were hurting as well.  The notion of a break was quickly shot down, but they did appease her with a hunk of cheese and another bit of bread.  The children progressed in this way for the next few hours, the older two marching on with their younger sister munching and trudging behind.

The siblings did stop for a bit in a clearing about half-way up the mountain to have a proper lunch and rest.  Penelope was grateful for this, but could not understand why her portion had been decreased based on her earlier snacks.