Fern the Fox and the Grapes

On a warm summer's day, a little red fox named Fern was trotting through the orchard when she stopped in her tracks and looked up.

There, on a vine that twisted high above her head, hung the most beautiful bunch of grapes she had ever seen. They were fat and round and purple, glistening in the golden afternoon sunlight, and they looked like they would be the sweetest, most delicious grapes in the whole wide world.

Fern's mouth watered just looking at them.

She took a few steps back, then ran forward and jumped — up, up, up!

She missed them by a whisker.

"Hmm," said Fern.

She walked back a little further this time. She took a deep breath. Then she ran as fast as her four paws could carry her and leapt as high as she could.

She missed again.

"Double hmm," said Fern.

She tried once more, jumping from a little rock she found nearby. She stretched her paws as far as they would go and her nose almost, almost touched the grapes. But not quite.

Fern sat down in the grass and looked up at the grapes for a long time. They swayed gently in the breeze, glimmering and purple and perfectly out of reach.

At last she stood up, shook out her fluffy tail, and began to walk away.

"I didn't really want them anyway," she told herself in a small voice. "They were probably sour."

But deep down, Fern knew the grapes weren't sour at all.

She knew they were perfectly ripe.

And she knew that sometimes, when we can't have something we really want, it can feel easier to pretend we didn't want it. But it's much nicer — and much braver — to say, "I tried my best, and that's enough for today."

Fern trotted home through the warm evening air, and she had a lovely bowl of berries for supper instead.

And actually, they were very, very good.