Excerpt from the writings of Sister Oxalis, Recorder of Redwall Abbey:
It is the Autumn of the Copper Beech!
Though Nameday festivities would have occurred no matter the title, the name this time was rather hard to come by. As seasons progress, elders suggest names which, upon checking the records, have already been used somewhere back in the dust of ages. That's just what happens, I suppose, when the past is deemed legend rather than history, and therefore less attentive study is paid to it...
Bransles, our resident hare, scoffer, windbag, and lunatic suggested that the season go down in the records as The Autumn of the Excessive Ragweed, thus named because whenever she ventured outside the cultivated grounds of the abbey she'd erupt into explosive fits of sneezing. Though original, the idea was quickly turned down on the basis that Redwall has the tradition of giving positive meanings to our season names...
Credit for the name ended up going to the young badgermaid Ustela. She is barely past dibbunhood, but is already one of our more thoughtful and intelligent beasts. No doubt she will grow into a strong but gentle leader in the future. Ah, but back to the topic at paw...
Last autumn, traveling beasts from afar made our abbey a gift of a small tree. They told us it was called a copper beech, though at that point it more resembled a twig. It was planted in the corner between the north and west walls of the abbey, and it was very nearly forgotten. Only Ustela had watched it. She'd been sure to let us know when it got its first leaves, and other such developments. Just yesterday she noted with delight that the leaves had turned the most fantastic metallic copper hue, and what's more it will eventually reflect the sunlight from its leaves as it grows. A beautiful tree, a beautiful name, a beautiful season.
The feast was, as always, spectacular. I could go into extensive detail about every dish, every smell, every texture; even though I age, that memory remains blissfully keen. Perhaps too keen, and that precisely is why I offer no more detail than this. It would be quite unseemly for a respectable old mouse to drool all over the abbey records.
The festivities and antics have been as good as ever so far. Youngbeasts compete in lawn games, while elders sit and relish the soft warm air of early autumn. Our bellringers, the otter brothers Rohan and Gregory have been mooching candied chestnuts off of whoever they can—as if any creature could possibly believe that they haven't had candied chestnuts for seasons and seasons! Even Bransles wouldn't stoop to that!
Though there is no doubt more to say, it will be left unsaid until later. Our abbey Warrior Mattachin will be performing his famous sword dance for all to see. As is the normal for his line—and he is, of course, a descendant of Matthias the Elder—he is strong but light and agile. The great blade of Redwall can serve as a deadly force or a swirling ornament in his paws depending on his mood. And regardless of that mood, even, he can only be described as showy while he's holding that sword.
Showy, of course, is entertainment, and so I'm off to watch!
—Sis. Oxalis, Rec'dr
