Once, in a quiet village in Thessaly, there lived a poor widow with two daughters. The elder was haughty and selfish, always seeking shortcuts and luxuries, while the younger was gentle and diligent, tending to the household with quiet patience and a warm heart.
One bitter winter morning, when frost painted the trees silver and the snow blanketed every path, the widow called her younger daughter. “Go into the forest, child,” she said, “and gather sticks for the fire. We have none left, and we must keep warm.”
The girl wrapped herself in her thin cloak and stepped into the woods, her tiny boots sinking into the thick snow. Each breath formed clouds in the frigid air, and her cheeks were stung by the icy wind. She searched tirelessly, but the forest seemed barren. No dry wood lay on the ground, only cold white snow as far as she could see. She knelt and wept softly, feeling helpless and small.
As her tears fell upon the snow, a warm light flickered ahead. She followed it and soon saw a most remarkable sight: twelve figures seated around a glowing fire. Each wore robes in shades of the season they governed, their faces reflecting wisdom and age. They were the Twelve Months of the year, gathered together in secret.
The eldest, January, with a beard like icicles and a cloak of pure white, looked down at the girl. “Why do you weep, child?” he asked in a deep, gentle voice.
“I seek wood for my mother,” she replied, “but the forest is empty and the snow covers all. I do not know where to find it.”
January’s eyes twinkled kindly. “Do not fear, child of winter and spring. You have shown respect and humility, and thus we shall help you.”
Then March, dressed in a robe of fresh green and golden sunlight, rose gracefully and tapped the snow with his slender staff. The ice softened, and in the newly warmed earth, delicate violets bloomed. The girl gasped at the sight of flowers in the midst of winter. Carefully, she gathered a generous bundle of sticks, each entwined with fragrant herbs and blooms, and curtsied to the Twelve Months. “Thank you, sirs,” she said humbly. “May the seasons be ever kind to you.”
The Months nodded, their faces gentle, and January waved his hand, returning the snow to its peaceful blanket. The girl ran home, her bundle of wood warm to the touch and full of the scent of spring, her heart light with gratitude.
When her elder sister saw the bounty and heard of the magical encounter, envy gripped her heart. She imagined herself being adored by the Twelve Months, praised for her beauty and cleverness, and so she demanded her mother let her go into the forest. Though the widow hesitated, she relented.
The elder daughter strutted into the forest, tossing her nose in the air. She mocked the trees, the snow, and even the birds that flitted overhead. Soon she came upon the same warm fire, and the twelve figures turned their gaze upon her.
“I am the eldest and most deserving,” she said arrogantly, ignoring the chill that bit her cheeks. “Bring me your gifts at once.”
The Months frowned. Their hands trembled with authority, and their robes shifted with the cold wind. March touched his staff again, but instead of flowers, the frost hardened into crystal. The girl shrieked as her feet froze to the ground. Her proud laughter turned to terror as her arms and legs stiffened, her body shimmering like ice beneath the pale winter sun. She had mocked the very spirit of the forest and paid the price.
When the kind younger sister returned in spring, the snow melted to reveal a hidden glade, radiant with sunlight and flowers. There, in the midst of violets, daisies, and crocuses, she found her elder sister’s body transformed into a sparkling statue of ice, unmoving but shining brilliantly among the blossoms. She knelt beside her, tears glistening on her cheeks, praying for mercy and warmth. Though her sister could not speak or move, the younger girl learned that respect, patience, and kindness were worth more than arrogance or greed.
From that day forth, the village remembered the tale of the Twelve Months. They spoke of the magic that rewards humility and punishes pride, and of how courtesy and reverence can warm even the coldest heart.
Moral Lesson
Kindness, humility, and respect are virtues that endure even against the harshest challenges. Courtesy and gentle hearts can summon warmth and blessings, while arrogance and cruelty only bring suffering.
Knowledge Check
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Q: Who are the Twelve figures the girl meets in the forest?
A: They are the Twelve Months of the year, each representing a different season and bringing natural magic. -
Q: What happens when the kind sister asks for help in winter?
A: The Twelve Months assist her; March touches the snow with his staff, making violets bloom and allowing her to gather wood. -
Q: How does the elder sister meet her fate?
A: She mocks the Twelve Months, showing pride and cruelty, and is frozen into a crystal statue in the forest. -
Q: What is the central moral of the story?
A: Humility and kindness are rewarded, while arrogance and rudeness bring punishment. -
Q: Which region of Greece does this folktale originate from?
A: Thessaly, mainland Greece. -
Q: How do the Twelve Months symbolize natural and moral order?
A: They control the seasons and reward virtue, showing that respect and patience harmonize with nature’s cycles.
Source and Cultural Origin
Source: Adapted from Lucy M. J. Garnett, Greek Folk-Songs and Folk-Stories, 1896, pp. 267–270.
Cultural Origin: Greece (Thessaly)
