WEBVTT
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Produced by the iLab at WBUR Boston. If you could
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have an endless supply of something, something you really love,
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what would it be? Perhaps it would be your favorite
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food or something you collect, like stickers or rocks or seashells.
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Now at first it might be really fun to have
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this endless supply, right? But more often than not, when
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we have too much of a good thing, It might
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not seem so good anymore. And we're about to meet
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a farmer who learns that trying to have too much
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of a good thing can spoil everything. I'm Rebecca Scheer,
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and welcome to Circle Round, where storytime happens all the time.
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Today our story is called The Bearded Lake. Versions of
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this tale come from the country of Wales in the
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United Kingdom. Some really great people came together to bring
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you our telling of this tale, including Tony Award winner
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Owen Teal. Grown-ups, you may know Owen as Sir Alistair
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Thorne on Game of Thrones. His newest film, Dream Horse,
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will be released in the United States on May 21st.
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So circle around, everyone, for the bearded lake. In the
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northwestern part of Wales... Up in the high country, where
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the rugged, wind-swept mountains give way to sloping, rolling hills
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and green, grassy knolls, there lies a lake. It's known
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as the Bearded Lake because of the thick reeds and
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rushes that fringe its shores like a bushy brown beard.
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In the summer, the Bearded Lake is covered in water lilies,
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all of them as bright and white as a pearl.
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But once upon a time, nothing covered the surface of
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the Bearded Lake The brown reeds and rushes sprouted around
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a body of water that was as smooth and clear
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as a mirror. Until one man changed everything. According to legend,
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he was a farmer. A cattle farmer whose land stretched
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all the way to the edge of the bearded lake.
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We'll call him Farmer Davies. Every morning, Farmer Davies awoke
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at the crack of dawn.
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Grrrr!
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All right, time to get to work.
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And he pulled on his boots and headed out to
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the old red barn. First, he would milk the cows.
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What lovely milk you're giving today, Clover.
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You too, Daisy. Then he would drive the cattle up
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and down and around the hills.
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Come now, loves.
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I found some delicious grass over this way.
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As the sun went down, Farmer Davies would lead the
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herd back to the barn. then returned to his snug
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stone farmhouse, where he would polish off a simple supper
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of meat pie or vegetable stew before crawling into bed
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and falling fast asleep. Farmer Davies wasn't a rich man,
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but he was comfortable, an honest and humble fellow who
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was content with his lot in life Then, one winter,
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everything changed. Come December, the temperatures fell, and so did
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the snow. Great, frosty clumps of it, clobbering the high
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country so hard and fast you couldn't see your hand
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if you held it out in front of your face.
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The snowdrifts grew so high, Farmer Davies had nowhere to
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lead his cows to graze. The herd began wasting away,
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too scraggy and gaunt to give milk. So when spring
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rolled around, Farmer Davies still arose at the crack of dawn.
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Time to get to work.
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He still tried to milk the cows.
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Oh, come on, Clover. Not even one drop.
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Nor you, Daisy.
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And he still tried to drive them up, down, and
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around the hills.
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Hurry up, you dawdlers. You're moving slower than cold molasses.
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But once he led the herd back to the old
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red barn and returned to his stone farmhouse, he found
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his simple supper growing depressingly simpler. Meat pie was now
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a crust of bread. Vegetable stew was now a boiled potato.
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Oh, my stomach's as empty as a bird's nest in January.
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After supper, Farmer Davies no longer crawled into bed and
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fell fast asleep. Instead, the wretched fellow paced around his bedroom...
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wringing his hands and fretting about his future. Oh, dear me.
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If my cows don't give milk, my farm is doomed.
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Doomed.
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One particularly sleepless night, Farmer Davies burst out of his bedroom,
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put on his coat and boots, then stepped out of
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the stone farmhouse and into the cool, moonlit night. The
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air was so brisk, the farmer's teeth chattered as he
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wandered around his farm. He was so distraught he lost
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all sense of time and direction, and eventually he found
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himself at the edge of his property, way on top
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of a hill. Spread out before him, quiet and still,
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lay the bearded lake. The lake's surface was so clear
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and calm, it reflected every twinkling star in the sky,
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not to mention the shimmering milk-white moon. Farmer Davies gazed
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down at the smooth, sparkling water, Then he sank to
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his knees and burst into a sob.
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Oh, what am I going to do?
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I've been working harder than a salmon swipping upstream.
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And for what?
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For what?
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I'm ruined.
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I'm done for. If only somebody, anybody could help me out.
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Now, it just so happens that in Wales, where our
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story takes place, it's common belief that lakes can be
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a doorway to the other world, the mysterious non-earthly realm
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where magical, mystical creatures reside. Magical, mystical creatures? Like fairies.
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And little did Farmer Davies know it, but the Bearded
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Lake was home to a whole host of fairies. And
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from their dwelling place way down on the lake's bottom,
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The enchanted sprites were hanging on to the desperate man's
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every word. Farmer Davies couldn't hear it, but as he
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knelt at the water's edge, bawling his eyes out, a
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curious sound began to rise from the lake. The sound
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was high and sweet, like a woman singing, but not
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like any woman who ever walked this earth. There was
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something otherworldly about it, And as the otherworldly sound echoed
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across the hills, the normally placid surface of the bearded
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lake began to ripple and quiver, bubble and churn. But
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Farmer Davies was too overcome to see it. He cried
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and he cried, and by the time he got back
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to his feet and staggered home, the sound had faded away.
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The next morning, when Farmer Davies rolled out of bed...
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pulled on his boots and headed out to the old
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red barn, he was greeted by a most astonishing sight,
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one that stopped him right in his tracks.
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What the dickens am I seeing? It couldn't be.
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Could it?
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What do you think the farmer saw outside the old barn?
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We'll find out what it was after a quick break.
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100 years from now in a land far, far away.
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Hang on. It's not so far away at all, actually. Hey,
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Circle Round families. We're here to share a new listening
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experience from WBUR, The Midnight Rebellion. It's a climate podcast
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adventure for kids 8 and up. Time-traveling, problem-solving, laughs in danger,
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it's here. Follow the feed to listen. Oh, and bring
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your goggles and boots. That's The Midnight Rebellion, in your
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feed or wherever you get podcasts.
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Welcome back to Circle Round. I'm Rebecca Shear. Today our
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story is called The Bearded Lake.
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The Bearded Lake.
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Before the break, Farmer Davies was in trouble. After a
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particularly savage winter, his herd of cows was weak and sickly,
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and the future of his farm looked bleak. One sleepless night,
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the farmer wandered up to the Bearded Lake, a smooth,
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clear body of water bordered by reeds and rushes. He
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fell to his knees and broke down crying, calling out
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to someone, anyone for help. Little did Farmer Davies know,
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but the lake was home. fairies. The magical sprites heard
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his plea, and the next morning they had a gift
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waiting for him. A rather extraordinary gift. It was a cow.
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But not just any cow, for this cow wasn't black
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or brown or spotted like all the other cattle in
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the barn, or all the other cattle in the country
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for that matter. No, this cow was white, so white
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she practically sparkled in the sun.
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My goodness, look at you.
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You're as white as the neck of a swan, the
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fleece of a lamb, the pearl of an oyster.
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But whoever heard of a pure white cow in Wales?
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Where did you come from.
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Precious one?
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Farmer Davies tingled with excitement. Unlike his own sickly herd,
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this pearl white cow had such a bright gaze, such
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a plump body, such a full udder. The farmer reached
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out a trembling hand and stroked the cow's alabaster side.
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My, my, your coat is as soft as a patch
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of moss. And your udder is fuller than a piper's bag.
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I dare say you could do with some milk in,
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my friend.
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The cow turned her glimmering white head and blinked her wide,
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bright eyes at Farmer Davies. The farmer couldn't help but smile.
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All right, precious one, how about this?
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You'll stay with me and my herd for a little while,
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and if somebody comes to claim you, well, it was
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enchanting to make your acquaintance. But if no one shows
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up at my door, you can consider yourself part of
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the family.
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So the milk-white cow settled into the old barn with
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the farmer's herd. He named her Blodwen, which in Welsh
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means white flower. As the weeks went by, no one
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came to claim Blodwen. And Farmer Davies was elated. Not
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only did sweet, gentle Blodwen have the best temperament of
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all his cows, she had the best milk. And plenty
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of it. Blodwen could produce more milk in one day
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than the rest of the herd gave in a month.
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And oh, how rich and pure that milk was. Richer
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and purer than any Farmer Davies had ever tasted. Than
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anyone had ever tasted, it turns out. The first time
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the farmer bottled the milk and set up a stall
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in the market, the shoppers went wild.
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Oh, Farmer Davies, this milk is heavenly.
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Delectable.
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Ambrosial.
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Divine.
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The farmer began selling bottle after bottle of Blodwen's sweet milk.
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Before long, he was selling case after case and fetching
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quite a handsome price.
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Farmer Davies, I'll give you 50 silver coins for a.
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Case of your milk. I'll give you 100. I'll give
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you 200.
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I'll give you 300.
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And when Farmer Davies started using Blodwen's milk to make butter, cheese,
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and cream, the demand grew even higher. Soon, customers were
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flocking to the market hours before opening time, just so
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they could be first in line at Farmer Davies' stall.
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I've been waiting here since 5 a.m. to buy the
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farmer's thick, heavy cream.
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Oh, yeah? Yeah.
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Well, I've been here since four to buy his fine
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golden cheese. And I have been waiting since three to
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buy his soft, sweet butter. Well, I've been waiting here
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all night to buy all that stuff.
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So there.
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For the first time in his life, farmer Davies was prospering.
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And when Blodwen started giving birth to calves, all of
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them as gleaming white as their mother and producing the
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same rich, sweet milk, It was like he had hit
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the jackpot. Now the farmer didn't have just one stall
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at the market. He had four. One for selling milk,
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one for selling butter, one for selling cheese, and one
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for selling cream. Business was booming. And it wasn't long
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before Farmer Davies was the richest farmer in all of Wales.
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But he was no longer the humblest. You see, instead
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of waking up at the crack of dawn, the farmer
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now lazed in bed until noon. Instead of pulling on
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his boots to milk the cows and drive the herd up, down,
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and around the hills, he hired a team of farmhands
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to do all the labor.
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Well done, man.
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Yeah, yeah.
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Keep it up. And instead of returning to his farmhouse
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and having a simple supper, he wolfed down a five-course feast,
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personally prepared by his brand-new cook.
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Yum.
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Yum.
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Then Farmer Davies would climb into his king-sized feather bed
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and fall fast asleep before doing it all again the
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next day. One afternoon, as Farmer Davies sat by the
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window watching his farmhands graze the cattle, he was struck
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by an idea. Sure, he was making a mint selling
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his cows milk, butter, cream, and cheese. But what if
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he actually sold one of the cows themselves? The farmer
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stuck his head out the window and gave a whistle.
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One of the farmhands came running inside.
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Can I help you, sir?
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Farmhand, do you see that cow over there?
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The farmhand looked to where Farmer Davies was pointing.
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Oh, you mean Bloodwent, sir? Our own white flower?
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Yes, Bloodwent.
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We've had the old girl for quite a while now,
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and I worry it's just a matter of time before
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she stops giving milk. I want you to take her
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to market and see how much you can get for her.
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The farmhand fell quiet as he gazed out the window.
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Then he turned to Farmer Davies with a sheepish look.
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With all due respect, sir, Bloodwyn is as stout and
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sturdy as ever. It's almost like she's enchanted. She hasn't
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aged a day since she arrived here. But if you
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really think Blodwen is past her prime, sir, why not
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just let her wander the fields for the rest of
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her days and graze to her heart's content?
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Farmer Davy's eyes flashed.
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No, my mind is made up. I'm selling that cow.
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I want you and the other workers to prepare her
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for market at once.
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And the workers followed that order. They fetched a horse-drawn
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cart and loaded it with hay. The moment they looped
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a rope around Blodwen's neck and began leading her toward
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the cart, the usually docile cow began lowing and mooing.
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Blodwen kept pulling away from the farmhands and staring at
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Farmer Davies, her sparkling eyes wider and brighter than ever.
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Come now, you meddlesome creature.
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Quit making such a fuss.
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But Blodwen wouldn't quit. She kept lowing and mooing, pulling
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and staring, until all of a sudden.
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She stopped. For at that moment, a sound began ringing
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out across the hills. It was a mysterious sound, high
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and sweet like a woman singing. It was the same
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otherworldly sound that had risen from the lake so many
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years ago on that fateful star-filled night when an honest,
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humble farmer fell to his knees and begged someone, anyone
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for help. And now, all this time later, as the
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sound grew louder and louder. Do you know what happened?
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Blodwen let out a snort, then she lunged forward and
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broke away from the farmhands. Her shimmering white tail swung
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back and forth as she trotted across the field and
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up a hill. She was heading toward the lake at
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the edge of Farmer Davy's property, the Bearded Lake. The
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mysterious sound grew even louder now, and before anyone knew
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what was happening, Farmer Davy's other cows... All of Blodwen's
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children and grandchildren, they too took off toward the hill,
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their glimmering white bodies streaming out of the old barn
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so fast they looked like a streak of lightning. Farmer
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Davies whirled toward his farmhands, his eyes blazing.
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Well, men, let's all just stand here. Let's follow them.
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So they did. They broke into a sprint as they
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went chasing after the runaway cows. But when the men
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reached the lake... They were too late. Led by Blodwen herself,
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each and every cow was walking into the water, slowly
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treading deeper and deeper, first up to their flanks, then
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their backs, then their necks, then the tops of their
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gleaming white heads. And to the moment each cow vanished
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beneath the lake's surface, do you know what happened? Right
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at the spot where the creature went under, there emerged
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a tiny water lily each bright star-shaped blossom as white
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as the neck of a swan, the fleece of a lamb,
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the pearl of an oyster. And ever since, come summertime,
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the bearded lake has been covered in water lilies, an
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eternal reminder of Blodwen, the white flower, and to the
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farmer who was foolish enough to let his humility wither.
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Now it's your turn. Farmer Davies wasn't content with what
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he had. He wasn't satisfied. But a great way to
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feel content is to practice gratitude. Being grateful helps you
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focus on what you do have rather than what you don't.
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So next time you sit down for a meal, kick
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things off with a gratitude circle. Have each person say
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one thing. thing or person or place or experience that
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they're grateful for. And then, when everyone's done, you can
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enjoy your meal with even more thankfulness in your heart.
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This week's story, The Bearded Lake, was adapted by me,
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Rebecca Shear. It was edited by Anne-Marie Severson. Circle Round's
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original music and sound design is by Eric Shimalonis. Our
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artist is Sabina Han. Want to color while you listen?
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Sabina Hahn has created a black and white picture for
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every single Circle Round story, and you can print them
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out and color them in. Ask a grown-up to visit WBUR.org
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slash Circle Round, then click on Soundtrack and Coloring Pages.
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And while you're at WBUR.org slash Circle Round, you can
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also find a link to Sabina's Circle Round coloring book
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00:20:54.730 --> 00:20:57.480
and a transcript for each and every Circle Round story.
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Special thanks to this week's actors, Kevin Corbett, Maisie Broderick-Scarpa,
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Nick Sholley, Alexia Trainor, Chris Tucci, and Owen Teal. Watch
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for Tony Award winner Owen Teal in the feature film
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Dream Horse, coming out in the United States on May 21st.
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Our featured instrument this week was the Celeste. You can
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learn more about this keyboard instrument with a delicate bell-like
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sound by visiting our website. Again, that's wbur.org slash circleround.
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Never want to miss an episode of Circle Round? Follow
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00:21:27.069 --> 00:21:29.750
us on Apple Podcasts or whatever podcast app you use.
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And please, leave us some stars, write us a review,
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or just tell your friends about the show. Circle Round
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is a production of WBUR, Boston's NPR news station. I'm
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Rebecca Shear. Thanks for circling around with us. One of
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the best things about creating Circle Round is hearing from
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listeners like you. Circle Round fans have been telling us
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about their favorite Circle Round stories, and we're excited to
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share some of their voices with you today.
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Hi, my name is Lila. I live in New York City.
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My favorite Circle Round story is Stella and the Dragon.
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My name is Fiona and I live in Oregon. And
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my favorite show is the Charming Flute. I like when
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she plays her flute in the woods and all the
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animals come to listen.
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Hi, I'm Colby and my favorite Circle Round story is
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the hat, the horn, and the purse. I like the
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part where the big elephants arrive in the Duchess's yard,
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and she goes crazy.
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Did someone mention an episode you missed? No problem! You
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can find every single Circle Round story on our website.
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That's wbur.org slash circleround, or wherever you and your grown-ups
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get your podcasts.
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Produced by the iLab at WBUR Boston. If you could
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have an endless supply of something, something you really love,
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what would it be? Perhaps it would be your favorite
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00:00:17.399 --> 00:00:21.579
food or something you collect, like stickers or rocks or seashells.
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00:00:22.339 --> 00:00:24.039
Now at first it might be really fun to have
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00:00:24.079 --> 00:00:27.539
this endless supply, right? But more often than not, when
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00:00:27.579 --> 00:00:30.289
we have too much of a good thing, It might
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not seem so good anymore. And we're about to meet
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a farmer who learns that trying to have too much
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of a good thing can spoil everything. I'm Rebecca Scheer,
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00:00:48.929 --> 00:00:51.719
and welcome to Circle Round, where storytime happens all the time.
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Today our story is called The Bearded Lake. Versions of
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this tale come from the country of Wales in the
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United Kingdom. Some really great people came together to bring
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you our telling of this tale, including Tony Award winner
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Owen Teal. Grown-ups, you may know Owen as Sir Alistair
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00:01:10.879 --> 00:01:14.700
Thorne on Game of Thrones. His newest film, Dream Horse,
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will be released in the United States on May 21st.
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So circle around, everyone, for the bearded lake. In the
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northwestern part of Wales... Up in the high country, where
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the rugged, wind-swept mountains give way to sloping, rolling hills
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and green, grassy knolls, there lies a lake. It's known
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as the Bearded Lake because of the thick reeds and
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rushes that fringe its shores like a bushy brown beard.
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In the summer, the Bearded Lake is covered in water lilies,
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all of them as bright and white as a pearl.
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But once upon a time, nothing covered the surface of
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the Bearded Lake The brown reeds and rushes sprouted around
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a body of water that was as smooth and clear
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as a mirror. Until one man changed everything. According to legend,
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he was a farmer. A cattle farmer whose land stretched
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all the way to the edge of the bearded lake.
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We'll call him Farmer Davies. Every morning, Farmer Davies awoke
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at the crack of dawn.
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Grrrr!
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All right, time to get to work.
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And he pulled on his boots and headed out to
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the old red barn. First, he would milk the cows.
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What lovely milk you're giving today, Clover.
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You too, Daisy. Then he would drive the cattle up
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and down and around the hills.
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Come now, loves.
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I found some delicious grass over this way.
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As the sun went down, Farmer Davies would lead the
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herd back to the barn. then returned to his snug
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stone farmhouse, where he would polish off a simple supper
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of meat pie or vegetable stew before crawling into bed
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and falling fast asleep. Farmer Davies wasn't a rich man,
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but he was comfortable, an honest and humble fellow who
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was content with his lot in life Then, one winter,
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everything changed. Come December, the temperatures fell, and so did
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the snow. Great, frosty clumps of it, clobbering the high
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country so hard and fast you couldn't see your hand
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if you held it out in front of your face.
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The snowdrifts grew so high, Farmer Davies had nowhere to
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lead his cows to graze. The herd began wasting away,
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too scraggy and gaunt to give milk. So when spring
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rolled around, Farmer Davies still arose at the crack of dawn.
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Time to get to work.
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He still tried to milk the cows.
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Oh, come on, Clover. Not even one drop.
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Nor you, Daisy.
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And he still tried to drive them up, down, and
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around the hills.
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Hurry up, you dawdlers. You're moving slower than cold molasses.
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But once he led the herd back to the old
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red barn and returned to his stone farmhouse, he found
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his simple supper growing depressingly simpler. Meat pie was now
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a crust of bread. Vegetable stew was now a boiled potato.
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Oh, my stomach's as empty as a bird's nest in January.
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After supper, Farmer Davies no longer crawled into bed and
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fell fast asleep. Instead, the wretched fellow paced around his bedroom...
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wringing his hands and fretting about his future. Oh, dear me.
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If my cows don't give milk, my farm is doomed.
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Doomed.
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One particularly sleepless night, Farmer Davies burst out of his bedroom,
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put on his coat and boots, then stepped out of
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the stone farmhouse and into the cool, moonlit night. The
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air was so brisk, the farmer's teeth chattered as he
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wandered around his farm. He was so distraught he lost
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all sense of time and direction, and eventually he found
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himself at the edge of his property, way on top
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of a hill. Spread out before him, quiet and still,
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lay the bearded lake. The lake's surface was so clear
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and calm, it reflected every twinkling star in the sky,
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not to mention the shimmering milk-white moon. Farmer Davies gazed
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down at the smooth, sparkling water, Then he sank to
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his knees and burst into a sob.
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Oh, what am I going to do?
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I've been working harder than a salmon swipping upstream.
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And for what?
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For what?
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I'm ruined.
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I'm done for. If only somebody, anybody could help me out.
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Now, it just so happens that in Wales, where our
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story takes place, it's common belief that lakes can be
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a doorway to the other world, the mysterious non-earthly realm
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where magical, mystical creatures reside. Magical, mystical creatures? Like fairies.
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And little did Farmer Davies know it, but the Bearded
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Lake was home to a whole host of fairies. And
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from their dwelling place way down on the lake's bottom,
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The enchanted sprites were hanging on to the desperate man's
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every word. Farmer Davies couldn't hear it, but as he
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knelt at the water's edge, bawling his eyes out, a
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curious sound began to rise from the lake. The sound
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was high and sweet, like a woman singing, but not
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like any woman who ever walked this earth. There was
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something otherworldly about it, And as the otherworldly sound echoed
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across the hills, the normally placid surface of the bearded
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lake began to ripple and quiver, bubble and churn. But
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Farmer Davies was too overcome to see it. He cried
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and he cried, and by the time he got back
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to his feet and staggered home, the sound had faded away.
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The next morning, when Farmer Davies rolled out of bed...
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pulled on his boots and headed out to the old
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red barn, he was greeted by a most astonishing sight,
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one that stopped him right in his tracks.
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What the dickens am I seeing? It couldn't be.
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Could it?
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What do you think the farmer saw outside the old barn?
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We'll find out what it was after a quick break.
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100 years from now in a land far, far away.
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Hang on. It's not so far away at all, actually. Hey,
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Circle Round families. We're here to share a new listening
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experience from WBUR, The Midnight Rebellion. It's a climate podcast
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adventure for kids 8 and up. Time-traveling, problem-solving, laughs in danger,
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it's here. Follow the feed to listen. Oh, and bring
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your goggles and boots. That's The Midnight Rebellion, in your
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feed or wherever you get podcasts.
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Welcome back to Circle Round. I'm Rebecca Shear. Today our
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story is called The Bearded Lake.
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The Bearded Lake.
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Before the break, Farmer Davies was in trouble. After a
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particularly savage winter, his herd of cows was weak and sickly,
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and the future of his farm looked bleak. One sleepless night,
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the farmer wandered up to the Bearded Lake, a smooth,
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clear body of water bordered by reeds and rushes. He
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fell to his knees and broke down crying, calling out
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to someone, anyone for help. Little did Farmer Davies know,
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but the lake was home. fairies. The magical sprites heard
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his plea, and the next morning they had a gift
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waiting for him. A rather extraordinary gift. It was a cow.
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But not just any cow, for this cow wasn't black
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or brown or spotted like all the other cattle in
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the barn, or all the other cattle in the country
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for that matter. No, this cow was white, so white
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she practically sparkled in the sun.
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My goodness, look at you.
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You're as white as the neck of a swan, the
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fleece of a lamb, the pearl of an oyster.
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But whoever heard of a pure white cow in Wales?
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Where did you come from.
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Precious one?
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Farmer Davies tingled with excitement. Unlike his own sickly herd,
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this pearl white cow had such a bright gaze, such
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a plump body, such a full udder. The farmer reached
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out a trembling hand and stroked the cow's alabaster side.
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My, my, your coat is as soft as a patch
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of moss. And your udder is fuller than a piper's bag.
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I dare say you could do with some milk in,
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my friend.
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The cow turned her glimmering white head and blinked her wide,
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bright eyes at Farmer Davies. The farmer couldn't help but smile.
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All right, precious one, how about this?
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You'll stay with me and my herd for a little while,
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and if somebody comes to claim you, well, it was
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enchanting to make your acquaintance. But if no one shows
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up at my door, you can consider yourself part of
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the family.
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So the milk-white cow settled into the old barn with
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the farmer's herd. He named her Blodwen, which in Welsh
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means white flower. As the weeks went by, no one
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came to claim Blodwen. And Farmer Davies was elated. Not
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only did sweet, gentle Blodwen have the best temperament of
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all his cows, she had the best milk. And plenty
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of it. Blodwen could produce more milk in one day
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than the rest of the herd gave in a month.
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And oh, how rich and pure that milk was. Richer
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and purer than any Farmer Davies had ever tasted. Than
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anyone had ever tasted, it turns out. The first time
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the farmer bottled the milk and set up a stall
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in the market, the shoppers went wild.
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Oh, Farmer Davies, this milk is heavenly.
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Delectable.
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Ambrosial.
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Divine.
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The farmer began selling bottle after bottle of Blodwen's sweet milk.
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Before long, he was selling case after case and fetching
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quite a handsome price.
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Farmer Davies, I'll give you 50 silver coins for a.
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Case of your milk. I'll give you 100. I'll give
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you 200.
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I'll give you 300.
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And when Farmer Davies started using Blodwen's milk to make butter, cheese,
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and cream, the demand grew even higher. Soon, customers were
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flocking to the market hours before opening time, just so
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they could be first in line at Farmer Davies' stall.
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I've been waiting here since 5 a.m. to buy the
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farmer's thick, heavy cream.
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Oh, yeah? Yeah.
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Well, I've been here since four to buy his fine
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golden cheese. And I have been waiting since three to
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buy his soft, sweet butter. Well, I've been waiting here
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all night to buy all that stuff.
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So there.
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For the first time in his life, farmer Davies was prospering.
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And when Blodwen started giving birth to calves, all of
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them as gleaming white as their mother and producing the
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same rich, sweet milk, It was like he had hit
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the jackpot. Now the farmer didn't have just one stall
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at the market. He had four. One for selling milk,
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one for selling butter, one for selling cheese, and one
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for selling cream. Business was booming. And it wasn't long
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before Farmer Davies was the richest farmer in all of Wales.
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But he was no longer the humblest. You see, instead
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of waking up at the crack of dawn, the farmer
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now lazed in bed until noon. Instead of pulling on
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his boots to milk the cows and drive the herd up, down,
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and around the hills, he hired a team of farmhands
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to do all the labor.
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Well done, man.
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Yeah, yeah.
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Keep it up. And instead of returning to his farmhouse
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and having a simple supper, he wolfed down a five-course feast,
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personally prepared by his brand-new cook.
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Yum.
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Yum.
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Then Farmer Davies would climb into his king-sized feather bed
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and fall fast asleep before doing it all again the
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next day. One afternoon, as Farmer Davies sat by the
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window watching his farmhands graze the cattle, he was struck
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by an idea. Sure, he was making a mint selling
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his cows milk, butter, cream, and cheese. But what if
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he actually sold one of the cows themselves? The farmer
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stuck his head out the window and gave a whistle.
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One of the farmhands came running inside.
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Can I help you, sir?
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Farmhand, do you see that cow over there?
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The farmhand looked to where Farmer Davies was pointing.
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Oh, you mean Bloodwent, sir? Our own white flower?
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Yes, Bloodwent.
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We've had the old girl for quite a while now,
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and I worry it's just a matter of time before
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she stops giving milk. I want you to take her
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to market and see how much you can get for her.
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The farmhand fell quiet as he gazed out the window.
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Then he turned to Farmer Davies with a sheepish look.
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With all due respect, sir, Bloodwyn is as stout and
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sturdy as ever. It's almost like she's enchanted. She hasn't
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aged a day since she arrived here. But if you
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really think Blodwen is past her prime, sir, why not
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just let her wander the fields for the rest of
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her days and graze to her heart's content?
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Farmer Davy's eyes flashed.
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No, my mind is made up. I'm selling that cow.
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I want you and the other workers to prepare her
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for market at once.
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And the workers followed that order. They fetched a horse-drawn
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cart and loaded it with hay. The moment they looped
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a rope around Blodwen's neck and began leading her toward
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the cart, the usually docile cow began lowing and mooing.
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Blodwen kept pulling away from the farmhands and staring at
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Farmer Davies, her sparkling eyes wider and brighter than ever.
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Come now, you meddlesome creature.
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Quit making such a fuss.
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But Blodwen wouldn't quit. She kept lowing and mooing, pulling
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and staring, until all of a sudden.
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She stopped. For at that moment, a sound began ringing
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out across the hills. It was a mysterious sound, high
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and sweet like a woman singing. It was the same
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otherworldly sound that had risen from the lake so many
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years ago on that fateful star-filled night when an honest,
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humble farmer fell to his knees and begged someone, anyone
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for help. And now, all this time later, as the
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sound grew louder and louder. Do you know what happened?
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Blodwen let out a snort, then she lunged forward and
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broke away from the farmhands. Her shimmering white tail swung
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back and forth as she trotted across the field and
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up a hill. She was heading toward the lake at
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the edge of Farmer Davy's property, the Bearded Lake. The
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mysterious sound grew even louder now, and before anyone knew
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what was happening, Farmer Davy's other cows... All of Blodwen's
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children and grandchildren, they too took off toward the hill,
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their glimmering white bodies streaming out of the old barn
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so fast they looked like a streak of lightning. Farmer
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Davies whirled toward his farmhands, his eyes blazing.
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Well, men, let's all just stand here. Let's follow them.
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So they did. They broke into a sprint as they
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went chasing after the runaway cows. But when the men
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reached the lake... They were too late. Led by Blodwen herself,
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each and every cow was walking into the water, slowly
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treading deeper and deeper, first up to their flanks, then
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their backs, then their necks, then the tops of their
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gleaming white heads. And to the moment each cow vanished
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beneath the lake's surface, do you know what happened? Right
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at the spot where the creature went under, there emerged
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a tiny water lily each bright star-shaped blossom as white
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as the neck of a swan, the fleece of a lamb,
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the pearl of an oyster. And ever since, come summertime,
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the bearded lake has been covered in water lilies, an
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eternal reminder of Blodwen, the white flower, and to the
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farmer who was foolish enough to let his humility wither.
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Now it's your turn. Farmer Davies wasn't content with what
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he had. He wasn't satisfied. But a great way to
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feel content is to practice gratitude. Being grateful helps you
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focus on what you do have rather than what you don't.
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So next time you sit down for a meal, kick
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things off with a gratitude circle. Have each person say
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one thing. thing or person or place or experience that
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they're grateful for. And then, when everyone's done, you can
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enjoy your meal with even more thankfulness in your heart.
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This week's story, The Bearded Lake, was adapted by me,
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Rebecca Shear. It was edited by Anne-Marie Severson. Circle Round's
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original music and sound design is by Eric Shimalonis. Our
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artist is Sabina Han. Want to color while you listen?
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Sabina Hahn has created a black and white picture for
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every single Circle Round story, and you can print them
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out and color them in. Ask a grown-up to visit WBUR.org
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slash Circle Round, then click on Soundtrack and Coloring Pages.
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And while you're at WBUR.org slash Circle Round, you can
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also find a link to Sabina's Circle Round coloring book
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and a transcript for each and every Circle Round story.
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Special thanks to this week's actors, Kevin Corbett, Maisie Broderick-Scarpa,
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Nick Sholley, Alexia Trainor, Chris Tucci, and Owen Teal. Watch
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for Tony Award winner Owen Teal in the feature film
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Dream Horse, coming out in the United States on May 21st.
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Our featured instrument this week was the Celeste. You can
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learn more about this keyboard instrument with a delicate bell-like
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sound by visiting our website. Again, that's wbur.org slash circleround.
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Never want to miss an episode of Circle Round? Follow
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us on Apple Podcasts or whatever podcast app you use.
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And please, leave us some stars, write us a review,
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or just tell your friends about the show. Circle Round
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is a production of WBUR, Boston's NPR news station. I'm
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Rebecca Shear. Thanks for circling around with us. One of
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the best things about creating Circle Round is hearing from
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listeners like you. Circle Round fans have been telling us
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about their favorite Circle Round stories, and we're excited to
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share some of their voices with you today.
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Hi, my name is Lila. I live in New York City.
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My favorite Circle Round story is Stella and the Dragon.
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My name is Fiona and I live in Oregon. And
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my favorite show is the Charming Flute. I like when
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she plays her flute in the woods and all the
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animals come to listen.
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Hi, I'm Colby and my favorite Circle Round story is
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the hat, the horn, and the purse. I like the
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part where the big elephants arrive in the Duchess's yard,
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and she goes crazy.
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Did someone mention an episode you missed? No problem! You
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can find every single Circle Round story on our website.
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That's wbur.org slash circleround, or wherever you and your grown-ups
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get your podcasts.
