"Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s okay to embrace a little take. Just a little." - Maple Hare

Over-Sweetening

Thistle hadn’t expected to hear that Maple Hare had fallen ill.

Like her namesake, Maple Hare was the devoted, rabbit, keeper of the maple grove in the Blooming Glade—and, just as sweet, one of its most delightful residents. She loved everything sweet—whether it be honey, clove, maple, or sugar. A confectionery master, she was known for her homemade treats, and the residents always looked forward to receiving a bottle of her maple syrup for Sunday brunch or breakfast.

Thistle approached Maple’s cottage to find that her windows were all dark. No warm glow flickered from the hearth, and upon knocking, it took a long moment before the cottage seemed to creak and groan to life.

She was greeted by a weary, tired, and pale Maple Hare.Her fur was matted, her clothes disheveled—and most unsettling of all, the usual warm scent of maple was completely absent.

Thistle gasped upon seeing the state of her friend.

"Oh, dear Maple, you're looking so pale. How are you feeling?" she asked carefully.

"Oh, Peachy! Right as rain-" Maple said, before catching herself, peering outside at the ongoing storm. "Speaking of—you should probably come inside. With all this thunder, I can barely hear you!"

When Thistle stepped inside, the reason for the dim cottage became obvious—Maple had run out of firewood. Luckily, Thistle had come prepared, bringing along some dried wood she had stored in anticipation of the visit. She quickly lit the hearth, while Maple, despite her exhaustion, insisted on making Thistle some clover tea.

"No, really, please don’t go through the trouble," Thistle protested.

"Now, now, what kind of host doesn’t at least offer a guest a hot cup of tea?" Maple insisted. Before she could finish her thought, she broke into a cough. As she poured hot water from the kettle into one of her meticulously hand-painted cups—similar to the ones she often gifted to residents on celestial celebrations and birthdays—her paws began to tremble.

Thistle could no longer allow her to stay standing. She quickly ushered her to the rocking chair by the fire, placed a blanket over her shivering body, and finished preparing the tea herself.

"My poor Maple Hare," Thistle whispered, when just outside of earshot. “I'll take care of you. That’s what you do for everyone else."

Maple Hare was well known in the Blooming Glade for giving more than she got. She cared for the residents, no matter the ailment or occasion—whether tending to the community garden, wrangling baby bunnies during festival season, or simply gifting confectioneries freely and constantly.

And yet, here she was—at her weakest—alone in a dark cottage. No visitors. No care. No gifts of her own. Thistle frowned at this, feeling a sense of shame, before a thunderclap reminded her how many people were trapped at home. Even still, Maple would have been there, despite the storm. She couldn’t help but wonder if Maple had a “Maple” herself.

“That’s why I’m here” Thistle thought.

Thistle brought over the two cups of warm clover tea, sweetened to Maple’s liking—which, of course, was saccharine beyond most tastes—and sat beside her by the hearth.

"What happened, dear Maple? How has this illness befallen you?"

Maple hesitated. "Oh, gosh, I guess I don’t know. But I was out quite late tending to my grove. The rain never broke, and when I came back I was soaked to my bones."

"Your maple grove? In this rain?" Thistle’s voice was filled with concern. "Oh, Maple, you’ve probably caught a cold!”

It made sense. Maple was devoted to her trees, always putting them before her own well-being.

Thistle, lost in her thoughts, noticed a pause in the conversation. When she looked over, she saw that Maple had fully nodded off in her rocking chair.

Thistle sighed, adjusting the blanket over Maple’s lap before continuing gently. "Well then, a cold is something I’m well-equipped to fix." She smiled. "Let’s get you back up—right as rain, just like you said."

Maple gave a small, tired smile in return in her sleep. Thistle hoped she was dreaming of her grove in brighter days.

She moved swiftly to the kitchen, grimoire in one hand while she whispered an incantation, quickly gathering ingredients with the other. She gently woke the hare when the spell was complete.

"How about this?" she offered. "A sweetening spell, to get you back to your sweet, usual, self." She presented Maple with a warm tonic, crafted with honey, chamomile, and lavender—meant to sweeten, calm, and soothe, just as Maple always did for others.

Maple eagerly accepted, but the second the potion touched her lips, she gagged and pushed the cup away.

"Oh my—I think it’s too sweet," Maple exclaimed.

Thistle’s brow furrowed. "Too sweet? But you love things too sweet."

"I know!" Maple shook her head. "But I also don’t know… I don’t want to sound ungrateful sweetie, but I think for once, I might be all sweetened out."

Then it dawned on Thistle.

The sickness wasn’t a cold, or a curse, or some mysterious blight.

This was exhaustion. A classic case of over-sweetening.

There were some like Maple who gave and gave—until they had no sweetness left to give. And when that happened, no more sweetness could be accepted. She had given too much.It was rejected because she never learned how to give sweetness to herself.

This wasn’t a sickness that needed more sweetness—it needed balance.

"I think I know what to do," Thistle said quietly.

She pulled out her grimoire and prepared a potion—not sweet, but bitter. The bitterest tea she ever made. A balancing spell.

She handed it to Maple Hare, who hesitated.

"I haven’t really ever liked bitter," Maple admitted. "It’s not really my thing."

Thistle nodded. "I know, Maple. I know this isn’t something a kind hare like you is wanton to embrace. But it’s necessary. Sometimes, if you give, give, give—it’s okay to embrace a little take."

Maple blinked at her, then let out a small chuckle. "You’re getting wise, Thistle."

She sighed, plugged her nose, and took a sip.

Thistle watched nervously, worried the spell might be too strong, but after a moment, she saw it—the color returning to Maple’s face, her fur growing vibrant once more. Most notably, the scent of maple filled the air, rich and warm, like a pastry fresh from the oven.

Maple scrunched her nose. "That tastes … gross!" She laughed. "But… I already feel so much better." She looked up at Thistle with a thoughtful expression. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s okay to embrace a little take. Just a little."

Thistle smiled as they embraced.

Not long after, Maple shocked the Blooming Glade with one of her most daring recipes—something sour, something strange… and just sweet enough to restore balance.

🥬Spinach and Artichoke Hot Salad 🧄

something sour, something strange

Recipe:

Recipe Information

🥬 Spinach and Artichoke Hot Salad

Total Time: ~45 minutes
Skill Level: Beginner-Friendly
Category: Forest Greens – Salads and Sides

🥗 Dietary Information

✅ Can be made Vegan (with plant milk and nutritional yeast)
✅ Can be made Dairy-Free (with dairy-free cheeses or nutritional yeast)
✅ Gluten-Free adaptable (swap flour for GF thickener)

⚠ Potential Sensitivities

• 🧈 Contains Dairy (unless swapped for plant-based butter and cheese)
• 🌾 Contains Gluten (flour; use a GF thickener as needed)
• 🥛 Contains Milk (unless made with plant milk)

🌿 Ingredients

• 🌿 1 small onion, diced – Grounds the dish and connects you to the hearth
• 🌿 2 tbsp butter (or plant-based) – Adds warmth and comfort, seals intentions
• 🌿 A pinch of salt – Draws out moisture and offers purification
• 🌿 2 cans artichoke hearts, drained – Encourages emotional clarity and openness
• 🌿 3 bags fresh spinach – Boosts vitality and resilience
• 🌿 ¼ cup milk or plant-based milk – Brings softness and nurtures the blend
• 🌿 4–5 tbsp flour (or GF thickener) – Provides structure and binds all elements
• 🌿 Cheese of choice:
  • Lactose-free cheddar or gouda – For strength and steadiness
  • Ricotta – For ease and comfort
  • Nutritional yeast – For lightness and wisdom
• 🌿 Seasonings to taste – Use with intention: garlic and herb for protection, lemon salt or lemon pepper for brightness, rosemary for clarity and luck

🔪 Method

1. Start the Base

• Dice the onion and add to a hot pan with butter.
• Add a pinch of salt to help draw out moisture and deepen flavor.

2. Add the Artichokes

• Drain the cans of artichoke hearts thoroughly—some moisture is okay.
• Add to the pan and cook down until soft and beginning to fall apart.

3. Wilt the Spinach

• Add spinach one bag at a time, folding it into the mixture as it wilts.
• Continue until all spinach is added and fully cooked down.
• Let sit briefly while preparing the sauce.

4. Make the Creamy Sauce

• In a separate bowl or pan, whisk together ¼ cup milk with 4–5 tbsp flour until smooth.
• Slowly warm and stir until thickened.
• Add cheese or nutritional yeast and stir until melty and cohesive.
• Taste and adjust seasonings.

5. Combine & Serve

• Pour the creamy sauce over the spinach-artichoke mixture and mix well.
• Let cook together for a few minutes so the flavors marry and thicken further.
• Serve hot as a side, dip, or spread—it holds its own wherever it lands.

✨ Best Enjoyed…

• When sweetness has overtaken you, and you're ready to welcome complexity
• At the table of a wise friend, learning that balance sometimes tastes bitter but heals
• As a comforting gift to someone learning to embrace their edges
• When you need something unexpected and strange, but deeply savory and satisfying
• On days when you long to feel both grounded and nourished by what the forest offers