ONE

“And this…is a piano!” Cano exclaimed, presenting the small green piano of folded leaves to his Apple-Eye friends. "You use your fingers to dance around the keys.” The grinning boy said, placing the tiny origami piano on the grass for the apple-eyes to inspect.

Then he plucked five leaves from the tree above him and carefully folded them into a tiny fiddle. “Here. You take it.” he said, handing the small instrument to another eager Apple-Eye.

That fiddle and piano were just two of many leaf-made instruments Cano crafted for his orchard friends. The instruments weren’t functional, but they were as real as anyone wanted them to be – and hundreds of Apple-Eyes in this garden had eagerly grabbed and “played” them.

The Apple-Eyes gathered in circles, each fruit standing, sitting, or leaping with an instrument made of verdure, hopping about as if they were musicians in an orchestra. Cano watched the scene and laughed in triumph, overjoyed by the fun. He’d always liked these silly Apple-Eyes so dearly; he had grown up among them.

As the Apple-Eyes mimed their performance, Cano hummed along, trying to match their imaginary rhythm. But oh, how reticent they were – for they were silent. One by one, the Apple-Eyes slowed, their movements fading into stillness, for no tune could be heard.

“Friends, are you always so silent?” Cano asked.

There was seldom a response. One Apple-Eye continuously hopped in an attempt to communicate, furrowing its eyes in slow motion. “Well, don’t let your lack of ability stop you!” the boy exclaimed, picking the responsive Apple-Eye up and holding it in front of his face.

“I can hear you.” Cano caressed the Apple-Eye’s brown stem and pinched it before lowering it to ground level. “How about this? I’ll sing, and all you Apple-Eyes will go rat-tat-tat on the grass using your hops.” He picked up a few others and bounced them up and down with his hands.

“It’s pretty simple. You needn’t do anything complicated,” he said. “Follow my sentences in tune and enjoy the show.” Cano planted his hands on his hips and pointed into the crowd. “Right on, you there. The one with the blue eye. Come here.”

Dozens of unblinking blue irises stared back at him. Not a single Apple-Eye moved.

They tilted in their spots, glancing sideways at one another as if to silently ask, Is he talking to you?

“No? Nobody? Oh, come on, don’t be shy!” Cano took a few steps forward, strolling between them, still grinning. “I just need one of you.” A slow, silent shuffle rippled through the group. None volunteered. Cano squinted. “Wait… hang on a second.” His grin widened into a laugh. “Ah. Right. You all have blue eyes.”

The Apple-Eyes, of course, did not laugh. They simply watched him in their quiet, unwavering way.

“Well, that complicates things, doesn’t it?” Cano said, pacing in a little circle. “Here I am, trying to call up a soloist, and suddenly I realize I’ve got a hundred identical candidates. What’s a conductor to do?”

He stopped pacing and looked over the group once more, mock-serious now. “Alright then, forget the soloist. Looks like I’m just going to have to handle the music myself…”

♪♪♪

♪♪♪

The final notes faded into the wind, and Cano froze mid-pose, arms flung wide in a grand finale. The Apple-Eyes didn’t stop right away. They kept hopping and twirling, their leaf-made instruments swinging wildly until they slowed into gentle bobs, then into stillness. The area fell silent but for the faint rustle of the trees.

Cano lowered his arms and laughed. “Wow! What a performance. Honestly, you might be the finest silent band in all of here.” The Apple-Eyes simply stared at him, their blue irises shining under the sunlight. One of them rolled forward, bumped against his ankle, and rolled back again as if satisfied. Another tipped sideways into the grass, still balancing a tiny leaf fiddle near its stem.

Cano crouched, grinning at the little Apple-Eyes. “You know,” he said, “if you keep this up, we’ll have to do an entire concert. Same time tomorrow?”

A sudden gust of wind swept by, rattling the leaves and sending a few Apple-Eyes hopping lightly in place. Cano couldn’t tell if it was agreement or just the wind playing tricks. But it didn’t matter. He paced around the foliage in deep thought. Taking in the citrusy air with a deep breath, he fixed his posture and straightened his tie. “Strings, lighter on the bow!” He remarked, before giggling again. “Oh, oh—that’s too silly.” He squatted and palmed his mouth in an attempt to suppress his laughter. The Apple-Eyes were rolling across the grass in a theatrical comedy.

“I’m pulling your stems!” Cano said, leaning on a tree again. “All you silent folk, I’ll be the only one making melodies in that case.” One Apple-Eye hopped to get Cano’s attention. “What? You want to join our little show?” The Apple-Eyes rolled and hopped in their little theatrics, bumping into each other, tripping over leaf fiddles and occasionally toppling into the grass. Cano leaned against the tree, one leg crossed over the other, watching with a satisfied grin. “I see you fruit-folk are interested. Well, I’ll see a way. Your hops have potential!”

The Apple-Eyes bounced harder for a moment, before they began drifting away in small groups. They carried Cano’s leaf instruments on their heads, and rolled off. Another followed, dragging a leaf piano with vines like a sled. A few more disappeared under the bushes, communicating silently in their own way. Two curious Apple-Eyes stood behind, hiding in the bushes.

“Hey—what’s this? Solo practice?” Cano called after them, laughing.