Tale of The Dancing Fox
Welcome to the fantastic world of the Dancing Fox Winery. Here you will learn the complete story behind the Lewis Family, The Dancing Fox and the world behind the forest in which he dwells.
While some refer to these stories as just legend, others, as the Lewis boys, know more than they let on. Check back every month for the latest addition to the Tale of the Fox.
Chapter 1
"The Lewis Family"
Once upon a time, not so very long ago, there was a boy named Gregg Lewis, who lived in the big city of Los Angeles. On schooldays, he rode a bus through streets full of traffic and saw throngs of people passing on the sidewalks. At night the glow of the city lights blotted out the flicker of the stars. When weekends came, he played ball in his front yard. Sometimes, he would stop and gaze through the hazy smog to the faraway mountains and imagined himself climbing to their summits.
‘One day,’ he promised himself, ‘I will escape from the city and have adventures.’
And he did. He worked hard, and studied books in university libraries, and saved his money, and when he was all grown up, Gregg moved to the little town of Lodi in Northern California, surrounded by orchards and vineyards. The noise and rush of the city was left behind, and Gregg enjoyed the quieter lifestyle he had discovered.
Not long after this, Gregg’s cousin called him on the phone. ‘I’m getting married,’ his cousin said. ‘You must come to my wedding.’ So Gregg travelled into the Sierra Nevada Mountains, driving along twisting narrow roads. On one side, cliffs fell away into rocky chasms, and on the other, pine trees rose far above him.
At the wedding, right beside the bride, stood a girl in a flowing white dress, with a crown of flowers in her dark hair. After the ceremony, Gregg edged nearer to the place where the girl was talking to friends, her laugh ringing out like a chime of merry bells.
‘I am Colleen,’ she told him.
It did not take Gregg long to realize that this was the person he wanted to share his adventures with. Shortly afterward, they were married. When three sons, Dustin, Jared, and Gabe were born, they decided they needed a new home. After a long search, they found a farmhouse near the small hamlet of Clements. Perched on top of a hill, the house overlooked rolling slopes covered with vineyards and a valley with a river winding its way among ancient oak trees. The Sierra mountains with snow capped peaks could be seen in the distance.
‘The house is old and needs a lot of work,’ Gregg said; ‘and the vineyards will require much time.” ‘We can do it,’ Colleen said as she smiled at him.
They repaired broken beams, painted the walls, and laid new carpets. Colleen’s roses grew in arches in front of the doorways, and she hung pictures in the house. Meanwhile, Gregg landscaped the yards and planted rows of cherry saplings on one of the hills. As the time passed, the Lewis family tended the soil, grafted new vines for the vineyards, and sold many wine grapes to different wineries. For fun, Gregg and the boys would keep some of the grapes for themselves and made their own wine and grape juice in the barn.
One evening, Gregg and Colleen sat on the porch swing, watching their boys play ball on the lawn. Rays of light from the fading sunshine fell on the grapevines and cast shadows down the long rows. Stars began appearing in the darkening sky, and the scent of blossoms drifted through the air. In their happiness of the quiet moments, they did not notice the pair of curious eyes that gleamed in the bushes near them or the swift brush of a red tail as the creature disappeared. And although they did not know it, their grand adventure was only beginning. . .
Chapter 2
"Dustin's Serenade"
Dustin dumped his school books on the floor and dropped his soccer ball on the top of the pile. It bounced and rolled into a corner of his room. He flopped down on the bed, regardless of the mud on his jersey. The first week at the new school was finished. The tryout results would not be announced until next week, but Dustin knew he would make the team. His new classmates had quickly accepted him. He was big for his age, friendly, and a good defender. The only dark looks had been from the kid whose kick Dustin had blocked just in time to prevent him from scoring. Apparently, Zach was not accustomed to having someone on the team who could match his skills. Dustin grinned to himself. It would be a good year.
“I miss our old school.” The voice of his six-year-old brother broke into his thoughts.
Dustin turned over and found Jared’s freckled face looking down into his. “It’s too far for Mom to drive now that we’re living in the country.” Dustin replied.
“Yeah, I know.” But Jared’s blue eyes were still troubled.
“By the way,” Dustin asked, suddenly reminded of something he had forgotten in the events of the day. “Did you hear anything last night? Like music?”
Jared wrinkled his nose. “No.”
“Guess it was just a dream,” Dustin said.
Later that night, however, he was again awakened by an eerie melody. He pulled up the window and peered through the screen, trying to distinguish objects in the shrubbery. The stars twinkled over a quiet landscape. Puzzled, Dustin shrugged and returned to bed.
In the nights that followed, however, the serenade continued on through his dreams. Always the same, the song of a single flute began with a lilting rise and then fell into the lower cadences of a minor key. Dustin began humming it to himself; especially in the mornings as he gulped his breakfast and trotted with Jared down the long driveway to meet the school bus.
Returning from school one afternoon, they raced up the hill. Dustin gained the lead and rushed through the screen door, almost colliding with his parents and a girl standing just inside. Although she was in her late teens, she was not much taller than himself. A golden braid crowned her heart-shaped face and delicate features. Dustin realized that she looked unusual and yet felt that he liked her.
“This is our son, Dustin,” Gregg said, his voice sounding amused. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you unload the equipment.”
Noticing Dustin’s quizzical look, Colleen explained. “This is one of our new neighbors. We’ve agreed to let her set up some beehives down by the river. Don’t forget the key to the shed.”
Dustin trailed outside after the girl and took the handle of the wagon.
“I’ll pull it,” he said.
When they reached the hillock near the river where the shed stood, Dustin saw that a clearing had been made in the brush nearby. Already, bees were coming and going out of the white hives. He carried the boxes into the shed and let the girl stack them on the shelves. The final wooden box was long and flat, with silver markings engraved on the top. The girl’s fingers played over the top of them before unclasping the lock.
“Did you know that bees are the king’s messengers?” she asked him.
“Huh?” Dustin looked at her curiously. Clearly, he had been right. She was odd.
“I have a message for you.” Opening the cover, she held the box out to him. Inside, a flute lay on a bed of blue velvet. “This is from the king.”
“Um, thanks.” He hesitated. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
Sparkles of light danced in the girl’s eyes as she smiled at him. “Play it, of course. You know the song.”
As Dustin reached out his hands, however, her face grew serious. “It comes with a warning,” she said. “Every gift must be used properly. Only play the songs you are given—nothing else.” And passing him the box, she walked abruptly away.
Dustin stood still, watching until the girl’s white dress disappeared over the hill. Then, he looked down at the flute. Symbols ran in interlocking patterns along its sides. The bees’ quiet buzzing filled the air as Dustin circled around the hives and slid down the bank to the river. A wide curve of the river had allowed a small beach to form, and at the edge of it stood a gigantic oak. The roots stuck out over the water. Clambering up on them, Dustin perched in a small hollow and put the flute to his lips.
Every evening at twilight, when he had finished his dinner and the chores, Dustin returned to the riverbank. Slowly, the melody began to shape itself as his unpracticed fingers found the notes. He could not have told when he first saw the creature appear, but he could not mistake the full brushy tail, the black-tipped ears and nose, and sleek red coat. As the days passed, the fox inched nearer and nearer through the blackberry leaves that grew thick around the sandy bank. If he stopped playing, however, the fox instantly vanished. No amount of whistles or soft callings could bring him back. Deep within himself, Dustin knew that his serenade was a call to the fox, and he became more eager to capture the notes that now echoed through his mind even in the daytime. Autumn came, and the oak leaves began swirling down and alighting around him as he played the flute. The evenings grew darker, and the demanding afternoons of the grape harvest interrupted his practice. But the song was almost complete.
Finally, Dustin perfected a final trill and the last notes died away. Absorbed in the end of his song, he had not noticed the fox stealing through the bushes. Somehow, though, he was not surprised to see it sitting at the foot of his oak, its tail curled around its dainty white feet.
“Hello,” said the fox . . .
Chapter 3
coming soon