The Parfumairés of Oz

The Spice Groves and Gardens of Oz
Contain Rich and Redolent Barks, Berries
And Blossoms Used to Blend Fragrant,
Exotic & Healing Oils—Here Are a Few!

The Naked Grape

When Oz was a very young land, even before people came to live there, it was pristine, beautiful and had not one paved parking lot. You would have felt out of place there, even if you did not own an automobile or a motorscooter with plump little wheels.

Oh, you would not have been rejected by the Spirit of The Land of Oz, but you would have been very aware that you were wearing deodorant, or that you were not. Like all of the rest of the Animals of Oz, you would have been able to smell yourself (or your friend, if you had brought a friend along to sniff at), but although all could smell each other, aside from Skunk and Civet Cat and Musk Deer they did not have an aroma that you would have noticed, even if you have been downwind of them. And if you had seen a beautiful flower, say a rose or a lilac, or if you had sat under a grove of stately pine trees, you would have been slightly uneasy, because you would have known something was not quite right. Even if it was High Summer and you were walking through a hot meadow with the stalks of grass brushing at your thighs you would have been a bit apprehensive, as if you were waiting for something but did not know what that something was. Even the grapes, although sweet, would have been tasteless, for most taste is in your nose, as you will recall from the last time you had a cold.

Boring Purity

You would have been waiting for a fragrance, a whiff of the rich sweet aroma of a rose, or the heavy scent of lilacs, or the clean crispness of pine trees, or the warm, burny tang of summer that rises from the meadow like cricket chirps, just before the grass goes dry.

Oz was a land whose plants were dull, and without odors, and indifferent to your nose. You would not have been very happy in Oz, for all flowers smelled like wet paper, and all seasons smelled like the inside of an elementary school that has been abandoned for many years, with the wallpaper yellowing and peeling off in curls. The Plant Spirits of Oz might as well have been naked, for without fragrance no plant is truly clothed. And while this nakedness is innocent, it is not very interesting, and certainly not exciting to someone like yourself who lives in today’s world of seductive and alluring aromas.

Like hot asphalt.

Sequoiah Burns

If the Standing People had not held a council, and all of the other Green People had not been invited, and if Coyote had not been asked to speak, then the world would still smell like wet paper in the spring. But that is not how things happened.

It came about this way.

Sequoiah is the oldest and tallest of the Standing People, but in his case vanity comes with age and height. It was a deep regret with him that his seeds are smaller than some of the smallest shrubs. A mere Milkweed has seeds larger than mighty Sequoiah’s. But even that would have been a matter of no consequence, except that brash Bluejay loved to feast at Sequoiah’s feet, and eat his crispy seeds, and taunt him about their size.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Bluejay would say, shaking his crested head back and forth in apparent regret, “If only these tiny Sequoiah seeds were even as large as Pawpaw pips, then I might have a feast! As it is, I shall starve and grow thin trying to find enough of these puny seeds to eat. And from the arms of such a tall tree, too. What a great pity it is! I and my family shall surely starve!”

But Bluejay and his family never starved, but grew fat and multiplied on Sequoiah’s bounty, and never once thanked him for it, for that is the Way of a Jay. And Sequoiah would stand and rage inside as if with a terrible forest fire. As the years passed, the fire in his heart burned hotter and hotter, and a tree’s heart can become very hot, indeed.

Coyote Meddles

Sequoiah’s anger would have finally dried his heartwood, and he would have died, and that would have been the end of it, except for Coyote.

One afternoon as he was trotting through the forest, Coyote heard Bluejay screaming, and trotted closer to hear what all the noise was about. What he heard was Bluejay taunting Sequoiah about the size of his seeds, although it was difficult to understand him because his mouth was stuffed full of them. Greed and scorn are sure to attract Coyote, especially if you talk while your mouth is full!

“Hmmmm,” mused Coyote, “here is a ripe opportunity to play a trick on somebody. What shall it be, and how can I do it?” Now lately Mouse and all his relations had been getting on Coyote’s nerves by refusing to be eaten. Coyote had been forced to dig for Jerusalem artichoke roots, and he was tired of eating them. They were nourishing but tasteless, for as you know, the plants in Oz tasted like wet paper at the time. Coyote had been hoping for a way to get back at Mouse by blaming him for something, even if it was not very much, and even if Mouse did not get into Big Trouble.

And here was an opportunity!

As soon as Bluejay had finally lurched off, flying heavily away with a big belly full of nourishing seeds, Coyote innocently managed to wander “accidentally” up to Sequoiah, timing it so he would appear not to have overheard Bluejay’s taunts.

“Oh, Sequoiah!” exclaimed Coyote. “Fancy meeting you here!”

Now, because Sequoiah was raging deep down inside, he never thought to wonder where else Coyote would have found him (for the Standing People did not move very far from where they had taken root, even in those far-off days), and he replied, “Coyote! You haven’t been by in a while. Have you heard the mean things Bluejay said about me?” Coyote opened his eyes very wide, feigning astonishment, and answered, “No!”

Sequoiah told him. It was a long story, and made all the longer because he was so bitter, and added many comments about Bluejay’s manners, his wife’s sloppy housekeeping, his children’s misbehavior, even as eggs, and his taunts about Sequoiah’s seeds. Coyote lapped it up. He sympathized, oh-so-sincerely. Coyote played the role of friend and comforter to perfection, and said absolutely nothing inappropriate or unkind or even untruthful until finally, when Sequoiah ran down, and the breeze finally stopped whispering through his branches, he remarked with careful casualness, “That is really too bad. But even Mouse told me the other day that your seeds are so small and tasteless that he would rather gather Dandelion puffs. You really have been treated very badly.” And he trotted off.

The damage was done.

The Council of the Standing People

Everyone, even a tree, has a limit to their patience. Being so tall, Sequoiah had a high tolerance for abuse, even if it was ridiculous abouse. His close friend Oak had told him often over the years that “Mighty oaks from little acorns grow,” and Sequoiah had lived long enough to know that it was true, and even that stately sequoiahs from specks of seeds would grow. He had watched his children rise in the world!

But trees can harbor their anger as well as anybody, and many times it is worse if the anger also grows from silly specks of sarcasm. And Bluejay was nothing if not sarcastic, and had added insult to injury by stuffing himself with Sequoiah’s seeds. So Sequoiah began to rustle his twiggy fingers, and wave his branching arms, and blow a gale of ire through the forest until all of the Standing People, and all of the Green People, too, even Dandelion and Milkweed, gathered in the gale to hold council.

Sequoiah stated his complaint against Bluejay, and sought a sanction against him. And as he spoke, all the Standing People and all the Green People remembered their hurts and insults, for Bluejay had many friends and relations who were just as careless with their taunts and just as thankless in their behavior towards the Plant Spirits who fed and clothed and housed them.

The Council called Coyote to testify. He came eagerly. He was asked to repeat the words of Sequoiah’s story, to see if Stately Sequoiah had been, well, not lying, exactly, but perhaps exaggerating. Tall trees sometimes tell tall tales. But if anything, Coyote understated Sequoiah’s complaints. Since Bluejay was known to be a liar, and Coyote was known to be a Trickster, you would have thought that the Council would have been more careful. Still, Coyote was so sincere! How could anyone help but believe him, especially with that open and guileless look painted all over his muzzle?

But then Coyote made a mistake. He told a lie, not a big one—just a little one—but a lie all the same, about Mouse, and how Mouse had insulted Dandelion and Sequoiah both. So the Council decided to call Mouse, who, although small, was known for his honesty.

Wakan-Tanka Squeaks

Mouse came with alacrity.

But it was not Mouse. Wakan-Tanka had heard the gale blowing, and being everywhere all the time, had listened to the Council’s discussion with interest. His Standing People and his Green People were great favorites, the first to populate the Emerald World, and he loved them dearly, and wished he could do something more for them. So given this opportunity, and having heard Coyote’s barbed farewell to Sequoiah, he came at once, sheltered by the Council from hungry Coyote.

Mouse surprised Coyote by admitting that Coyote had spoken with honesty about Bluejay, and had even left out some of Bluejay’s taunts. This surprised the Council, for Coyote was not often vindicated. Usually he would be caught in some lie as he tried to play a trick or two.

So, willing to hear more, the Council asked Mouse if there was any punishment that ought to be given to Bluejay. Mouse surprised everyone again by squeaking out a suggestion that Bluejay be rewarded. There was an act that could help Mouse, and help Coyote, and teach Bluejay respect and even help him practice moderation. It was a small thing, but Mouse had often wondered why the Standing People and the Green People had never thought of it. Mouse explained that he could smell Coyote, and hide from him, and that Coyote could smell him, and sometimes catch him and eat him, but that Mouse and Bluejay stood out in a world that smelled like wet paper, and Mouse could hide better if the Green People all smelled different from wet paper and each other, and Bluejay’s greedy appetite might be satisfied if Sequoiah’s seeds were pungent and smelled as crisp as they were, and all of the Standing People and all of the Green People were distinguished by being clothed in fragrant, rich, redolent aromas.

Mouse—who was no other than Wakan-Tanka himself—proposed to corrupt the scentless purity of Oz by giving all of its Plant Spirits an odor! Even before people came to Oz, Wakan-Tanka suggested making the plants, the trees, the seeds, the grain, the grapes and even the apples taste delicious.

There would be consequences, but they are part of another story.

The End of Innocence

The Council approved of the idea, and gathered it boughs and branches to beg this boon.

And it was given. Even as Mouse and Coyote stood before the Council, a sense of warmth surrounded them, and their nostrils opened, and their instinctive memories awakened as the forest, fields and meadows felt the weight, as if of heavy, gaseous lead, first rise from the Earth, and then descend and spread over all.

No more would the Standing People walk in nakedness. No more would cherubic little shrubs and the rest of the Green People wave bare leaves and branches in the breeze. All were clothed in wondrously exotic aromas, the result of essential oils that now flowed in their veins, filling their sap, root and pith with beauty.

Bluejay could no longer stuff his belly with Sequoiah’s pungent seeds. Size no longer matters when scent explodes with each bite. Mouse was given the gift of eating bland seeds and grain that would absorb his odor, making it even harder for Coyote to catch him and eat him. And Coyote, the Trickster, had his trick turned back on him. Priding himself on his nose, Coyote now gagged and sneezed at the intense scents that assaulted his nostrils. Only at night, on the full Moon, would the Standing People and the Green people shed their aromatic garb to dance. And then Coyote, remembering the days of purity and easy hunting, would howl at the Moon, and mourn the loss of innocence.

And Stately Sequoiah?

He no longer burned, although his red bark was left as a reminder of what can happen when anger is hidden deep in the heart. But as red as his bark is, it is soft and spongy, and does not catch fire easily. For Wakan-Tanka, realizing that Sequoiah had indeed suffered a justified resentment, changed him. Now even the hammering assault of Woodpecker would only tickle Sequoiah. And Bluejay would find that Sequoiah’s seeds, although tiny, were so resinous that even a Bluejay’s greedy eyes were larger than his stomach, and that all of his complaints were now met with vast, slow guffaws from the branches above. Sequoiah could now see Bluejay for the Forest Clown that he truly is, for today Sequoiah has a sense of humor. So when Sequoiah chuckles, even Wakan-Tanka laughs.

And Oz is so fragrant that its parfumairés are famous today.

You’ll see, or, as the wizard says, you’ll smell!