Once upon a time, there was an apple orchard belonging to a gardener. In spring, the gardener cut off various types of apples and planted seedlings. The young shoots, which began to sprout, straightened up and looked around. In the middle of the apple seedling, one shoot was growing. Its outer shape was different. It had spiky hairs along its tall body. It grew quickly, and something bulbous appeared at its tip.
One morning, the Young shoot was astonished to see itself. The bulbous thing that had amazed it had turned into a beautiful flower. Its color was bright red. The Young shoot, whose eyes were captivated by the red flower, asked the Big Willow:
— Big Willow, what kind of tree is this that looks nothing like us? What a wonderful flower it has! — it asked in admiration.
— This is not a tree, — explained the Willow, — There are marvelous flowers in the world that have no equal. This is one of them, called Rose, it spreads fragrance and fills the surroundings with a sweet scent, — it said.
— How did it come to this place?
— They have their own habitats. The seed of this Rose flies here in autumn. In autumn, the Wind brought a seed here. The seed lay under the soil all winter, and when spring came, it sprouted and turned into this wonderful flower.
— Yes, if it’s a Rose, then it’s a Rose. Oh, how I wish I could be as beautiful as the Rose, — said the Young shoot. It dreamed, “What if I tell the Wind and move to the Rose's habitat?”
It waited a long time for the Wind to come. Deep in thought, when the gentle Wind brushed past the Young shoot, it startled. Immediately:
— Wind! Wind! — it called out loudly and hurriedly:
— Wind, Wind, there is no place in the world that you cannot reach. You roam freely across the globe. Is there a wonderful place for trees like the habitat of the Rose? If there is, please help me get there, — it pleaded.
— I know of a marvelous place, — the Wind immediately agreed.
Yes, indeed, there was a marvelous place. It was the Wind's favorite pastime to frolic on its lofty peak. From a tall cedar where white fluffy snow never melted, there was no better place for the Wind. The Wind imagined the towering peaks of the mountains and the pines and junipers that competed with the sky:
— If you settle there, you won’t wither in autumn. You will live in your lush green state, competing with the sky, — it further intrigued the Young shoot.
— Please, I beg you, take me quickly to that paradise, — the Young shoot insisted.
Startled by the Young shoot's actions, the Big Willow, who was completely captivated by the Wind's words, said:
— My child, you won’t find a place better than your homeland. You are about to make a mistake out of youth and impulsiveness. Don’t move anywhere, — it began to advise, but the Young shoot interrupted:
— Brother, don’t block my way. I want to go, I want to see, — it said.
At that moment, a fierce storm arose, and it began to tug the Young shoot this way and that. The delicate roots of the Young shoot, which had settled into the ground, were hard to pull out for both the Wind and the Young shoot. Suddenly, the Young shoot let out a shrill cry, and with a spark in its eyes, the Wind embraced it and soared into the sky. Leaving its homeland, the Young shoot set off for an unknown place, eventually disappearing from sight.
The Wind dropped it among the towering pines. After lying there for two days, the Young shoot was completely exhausted. On the third day, a person came to gather firewood and saw it. Recognizing it as a fruit tree, the person murmured, “How did you end up here?”
— You cannot grow and thrive here; you need the soil of your homeland and good care, — said the person, and upon hearing this, tears welled up in the Young shoot’s eyes. It then realized its mistake.
The person took it to a warm place and put it in water. After regaining strength, he planted it in a greenhouse where fruit trees grew. However, the Young shoot, unable to adapt to the foreign soil, began to weaken. The person asked those who traveled to warm places to bring a handful of soil from the apple orchard. After digging up the weakened Young shoot, he packed it tightly with soil from its homeland. Feeling a warmth spread through it, the Young shoot thanked the person.
— Oh, kind soul, I have erred by following the Wind's words instead of listening to the elders. I was searching for the paradise of the earth, but now I understand that I left that paradise behind. I now realize that the paradise of the earth is my homeland, my native soil. Please take me back to my homeland, — it pleaded.
— I won’t have time this year; you must wait until next year. I will definitely take you then, — the person promised.
The following spring, the person brought the Young shoot back to the gardener of the apple orchard.
Seeing the frail, pale Young shoot that had not seen the sun and had not grown, its friends took it under their care. Then the Big Willow with the white beard said:
— You are lucky; you have fallen into the hands of a good person. Otherwise, you would never have seen us again. Now you must understand the value of your homeland's soil. Come, join us, become a part of us, — it said, drawing it close.
Searching for the Rose flower with its eyes, the Young shoot could not find it in its place:
— Where is the Rose flower? — it whispered to the Big Willow.
— We asked the gardener to move it to another place. This was my way of preventing others from getting lost like you. That poor thing's native soil was here. What day was it? — the Big Willow sighed as it recalled the Rose flower.