Vertumnus and Pomona
He stood at a great distance, against a tree, admiring her from afar -enough distance to keep himself concealed from her regard. She was dressed in a drab brown dress with a wreath upon her head to shield away the sun and constantly held either a pruning knife or a spade in her right hand, but, ah, how beautiful she still looked. The happiness on her face was worthwhile to waste away the entire day watching.
Pomona, not an ordinary Hamadryad, was a wood nymph that specialized in the art of gardening. Rivers, springs, and lakes did not amuse her; only the sight of trees with fruits was her delight. Everyday she would work in her little orchard, nursing this, nurturing that. Never would she let a drought occur in her miniature garden. All were trimmed, watered, soil loosened, and transplanted if necessary, blossoming faithfully to her every care. It excited her to accomplish things such as having a tree bear two different types of fruits or directing vines to crawl in a certain way. These were her love, her passion, and her devotion. Nothing else would satisfy her but this: her botany.
Therefore, men were totally out of the question. She had no need for them; her affections were obviously taken already. Fauns and satyrs would do anything to have her acknowledge them. Even Sylvanus, the god of forest, fields, and herding, and Picus, the god of the grain-sown fields, fought for her attention but this only drove the maiden away frightened.
Vertumnus laughed at himself for being so desperate. He could have any women he wanted, but why her? What was it of her that attracted him so? Apparently, her prudence intrigued him. The chase of winning her love enthralled him. Day after day he had allowed
himself to take upon many disguises, as a reaper, a mower, a ploughman, and many more, but each time was a failure: she would not meet him and he was forced to stay outside her gate. The rejection did hurt; however, it made Vertumnus try even harder. He was different from the other men who came to woo Pomona. His love was sincere and pure. He cared not for anyone else but her, if only she could realize that. Oh, how he wished she would. His ardor for her was enduring, never giving up, striving beyond end. He would continue to love her even if she did not return his affections. That was how much he longed for her –an eternal, honest love. True love that was so rare in the world these days.
He would try again today. But what part shall he play this time? All the past costumes were of male genres; maybe a female form would work this time. Yes, an old women, a perfect illusion. He changed himself without delay. An ugly hag he had become. Ragged, spidery gray and white hair, covered by a worn hat, mangled about his sagging, blistered face. He took upon a hunched form with the help of a stick he had transformed into a cane. With difficulty he struggled to the girl's gate hoping this masquerade would be effective.
Sure enough, the nymph ran out with a worried look upon her delicate face. "You look so dreadfully weary! Please, come inside my garden. Rest a while will you not?" With a pleasant smile on her face, she helped the old women to a shady tree.
The incognito Vertumnus gave a little nod. "Thank you, my dear; that would be wonderful."
Pomona had excused herself earlier and now returned with a few fruits for the guest to eat. "Here, try some of these."
"Ah, thank you." As he ate the fruits, he commented on her garden. "You have such a lovely place. Do you live here alone?"
Pomona laughed merrily. "Yes, actually," she looked up at the tree they were sitting under, "but I never feel forlorn. My flora keeps me busy all day with its company."
"I have heard of you from many. They speak of your beauty. How their words have proven true. You are exquisitely beautiful, absolutely captivating." He leaned closer to the maiden. "More beautiful than I had ever imagined." His eyes studied her face as his finger gently lined the contours of her cheek. Her sweet scent filled his nostrils and he was unable to stop himself from kissing her. This elicited a gasp from the girl. The kiss was, strangely, not the normal kiss an old woman would give, more like one from a lover. Despite of this, Pomona quickly dismissed the notion and assured herself that it was probably only a wild imagination. Besides, never being with a man before, how would she know the difference?
A certain plant caught Vertumnus's eyes. "Observe," he pointed to a tree, "how the elm tree is enveloped by the grape vines. Alone they both would not flourish so well. The elm tree would have no value except for its timber and the grape vine would stray along the ground in vain. Nonetheless, if together, they both would prosper immensely. See the beautiful tree and lovely grapes? A good lesson to be learned."
The young girl laughed. "And why should I be concerned of this?" She looked into the old woman's eyes for the answer with a mischievous expression.
"When two things come together, what good results they have. You have constantly denied every suitor that has come your way. Stop and think. Two is better than one. Considering this, I know of a worthy man for you."
Playfully, Pomona asked, "And who may that be?"
The old women smiled, "Vertumnus."
The maiden tilted her head inquisitively, "Why is that?"
"I know him well. He does not wander nor pursue after useless love flings. Unlike your other admirers, he is different. Both Sylvanus and Picus have gotten into trouble many a time for chasing nymphs after nymphs. You, though, are Vertumnus's first love and last. You and he have very much in common, dealing in fruits mostly. However, he does not care for those now; his attentions are now on you. What do you say, my dear? Be wise in your choosing."
Pomona was motionless, deep in thought at these words. After her decision, she turned back to the old women. However, she was nowhere in sight. Instead, in her place, was a man! A radiant glow emitted from his transformation. Like a new bud blossoming forth its beauty. The true form of a god now presented visibly to her.
She trembled and sought to run away but steady hands held hers firmly. "Do not be afraid. It is I, Vertumnus, before you." The girl kept her eyes downcast in respect to the god's presence. "Pomona." He lifted her chin, but the girl still averted his gaze. His heart wrenched at the thought of frightening his beloved away.
However, Pomona took a chance of glancing at him and was unable to look away. For in his eyes, she saw the emotions that would melt her hardened heart. In a daze she whispered, "So it was you all along," realizing the manifestations of all her past visitors.
Vertumnus smiled down at her and held her close. "Yes, and I have waited a long time to finally meet you."
For the rest of the evening, they stayed together. When they were to part, Pomona promised she would marry him. Henceforth, the orchard now had two gardeners.