Chapter 5  takes place the morning after Winnie, her grandmother, and the man in the yellow suit heard the twinkling sound coming from the Wood.

“Winnie woke early next morning. The sun was only just opening its own eye on the eastern horizon and the cottage was full of silence.” Babbitt, Tuck, pg. 22

Winnie decided to go into the Wood. She wanted to see if she could find the source of the twinkling music.

Description of the Wood

“It was another heavy morning, already hot and breathless, but in the wood the air was cooler and smelled agreeably damp. Winnie had been no more than two slow minutes walking timidly under the interlacing branches when she wondered why she had never come here before. ‘Why, it’s nice!’she thought with great surprise.

“For the wood was full of light, entirely different from the light she was used to. It was green and amber and alive, quivering in splotches on the padded ground, fanning into sturdy stripes between the tree trunks. There were little flowers she did not recognize, white and palest blue; and endless, tangled vines; and here and there a fallen log, half rotted but soft with patches of sweet green-velvet moss.

“And there were creatures everywhere. The air fairly hummed with their daybreak activity: beetles and birds and squirrels and ants, and countless other things unseen, all gentle and self-absorbed and not in the least alarming.” Babbitt, pgs 23-24

At least since the 18th Century Romanticists, much of literature has focused upon a celebration of nature.

Almost since the dawn of civilization, mankind has been connected to nature–especially to trees.

“…the resemblances between human and tree life, have been observed by man from the most remote periods of which we have any records. Primitive man, watching the marvellous changes in trees and plants, which accurately marked not only the seasons of the year, but even the periods of time in a day, could not fail to be struck with a feeling of awe at the mysterious invisible power which silently guided such wondrous and incomprehensible operations. Hence it is not astonishing that the early inhabitants of the earth should have invested with supernatural attributes the tree, which in the gloom and chill of Winter stood gaunt, bare, and sterile, but in the early Spring hastened to greet the welcome warmth-giving Sun by investing itself with a brilliant canopy of verdure, and in the scorching heat of Summer afforded a refreshing shade beneath its leafy boughs. So we find these men of old, who had learnt to reverence the mysteries of vegetation….

“Looking upon vegetation as symbolical of life and generation, man, in course of time, connected the origin of his species with these shadowy cloud-trees, and hence arose the belief that humankind first sprang from Ash and Oak-tree….”Richard Folkard, Plant Lore, Legend, and Lyric

J.R.R. Tolkien about Trees

“I thought all the trees were whispering to each other, passing news and plots along in an unintelligible language; and the branches swayed and groped without any wind. They do say the trees do actually move, and can surround strangers and hem them.” – J.R.R. Tolkien – Fellowship of the Ring.

In the following clip from the movie Tolkien, we can peak into Tolkien’s love of nature–specifically his love of trees:

…

“She wandered for a long time, looking at everything, listening to everything, proud to forget the tight, pruned world outside, humming a little now, trying to remember the pattern of the melody she had heard the night before. And then, up ahead, in a place where the light seemed brighter and the ground somewhat more open, something moved.” Babbitt, pgs. 23-25.

Winnie Meets Jesse

“Winnie stopped abruptly and crouched down. “If it’s really elves,” she thought, “I can have a look at them.” And, though her instinct was to turn and run, she was pleased to discover that her curiosity was stronger. She began to creep forward. She would go just close enough, she told herself. Just close enough to see. And then she would turn and run. But when she came near, up behind a sheltering tree trunk, and peered around it, her mouth dropped open and all thought of running melted away.

“There was a clearing directly in front of her, at the center of which an enormous tree thrust up, its thick roots rumpling the ground ten feet around in every direction. Sitting relaxed with his back against the trunk was a boy, almost a man. And he seemed so glorious to Winnie that she lost her heart at once.

Description of Jesse

“He was thin and sunburned, this wonderful boy, with a thick mop of curly brown hair, and he wore his battered trousers and loose, grubby shirt with as much self-assurance as if they were silk and satin. A pair of green suspenders, more decorative than use ful, gave the finishing touch, for he was shoeless and there was a twig tucked between the toes of one foot. He waved the twig idly as he sat there, his face turned up to gaze at the branches far above him. The golden morning light seemed to glow all around him, while brighter patches fell, now on his lean, brown hands, now on his hair and face, as the leaves stirred over his head.

“Then he rubbed an ear carelessly, yawned, and stretched. Shifting his position, he turned his attention to a little pile of pebbles next to him. As Winnie watched, scarcely breathing, he moved the pile carefully to one side, pebble by pebble. Beneath the pile, the ground was shiny wet. The boy lifted a final stone and Winnie saw a low spurt of water, arching up and returning, like a fountain, into the ground. He bent and put his lips to the spurt, drinking noiselessly, and then he sat up again and drew his shirt sleeve across his mouth. As he did this, he turned his face in her direction—and their eyes met.

“For a long moment they looked at each other in silence, the boy with his arm still raised to his mouth. Neither of them moved. At last his arm fell to his side. “You may as well come out,” he said, with a frown.

“Winnie stood up, embarrassed and, because of that, resentful. “I didn’t mean to watch you,” she protested as she stepped into the clearing. ‘I didn’t know anyone would be here.’

The boy eyed her as she came forward. “What’re you doing here?” he asked her sternly.

“‘It’s my wood,’ said Winnie, surprised by the question. “‘I can come here whenever I want to. At least, I was never here before, but I could have come, any time.’

“‘Oh,’ said the boy, relaxing a little.  ‘You’re one of the Fosters, then.’

“‘I’m Winnie,’ she said. ‘Who are you?’

“‘I’m Jesse Tuck,’ he answered. ‘How do.’ And he put out a hand.

“Winnie took his hand, staring at him. He was even more beautiful up close. “Do you live nearby?” she managed at last, letting go of his hand reluctantly. “I never saw you before. Do you come here a lot? No one’s supposed to. It’s our wood.” Then she added quickly, “It’s all right, though, if you come here. I mean, it’s all right with me.” The boy grinned. “No, I don’t live nearby, and no, I don’t come here often. Just passing through. And thanks, I’m glad it’s all right with you.” “That’s good,” said Winnie irrelevantly. She stepped back and sat down primly a short distance from him. “How old are you, anyway?” she asked, squinting at him. There was a pause. At last he said, “Why do you want to know?” “I just wondered,” said Winnie. “All right. I‘m one hundred and four years old,” he told her solemnly.

No, I mean really,” she persisted. “Well then,” he said, “if you must know, I’m seventeen.” “Seventeen?” “That’s right.” “Oh,” said Winnie hopelessly. “Seventeen. That’s old.” “You have no idea,” he agreed with a nod. Winnie had the feeling he was laughing at her, but decided it was a nice kind of laughing. “Are you married?” she asked next. This time he laughed out loud. “No, I’m not married. Are you?” Now it was Winnie’s turn to laugh. “Of course not,” she said.. “I’m only ten. But I’ll be eleven pretty soon.” “And then you’ll get married,” he suggested. Winnie laughed again, her head on one side, admiring him. And then she pointed to the spurt of water. “Is that good to drink?” she asked. “I’m thirsty.” Jesse Tuck’s face was instantly serious. “Oh, that. No—no, it’s not,” he said quickly. “You mustn’t drink from it. Comes right up out of the ground. Probably pretty dirty.” And he began to pile the pebbles over it again. “But you drank some,” Winnie reminded him. “Oh. Did you see that?” He looked at her anxiously. “Well, me, I’ll drink anything. I mean, I’m used to it. It wouldn’t be good for you, though.” “Why not?” said Winnie. She stood up. “It’s mine, anyway, if it’s in the wood. I want some. I’m about dry as dust.” And she went to where he sat, and knelt down beside the pile of pebbles. “Believe me, Winnie Foster,” said Jesse, “it would be terrible for you if you drank any of this water. Just terrible. I can’t let you.” “Well, I still don’t see why not,” said Winnie plaintively. “I’m getting thirstier every minute. If it didn’t hurt you, it won’t hurt me. If my papa was here, he’d let me have some.” “You’re not going to tell him about it, are you?” said Jesse. His face had gone very pale under its sunburn. He stood up and put a bare foot firmly on the pile of pebbles. “I knew this would happen sooner or later. Now what am I going to do?” As he said this, there was a crashing sound among the trees and a voice called, “Jesse?” “Thank goodness!” said Jesse, blowing out his cheeks in relief. “Here comes Ma and Miles. They’ll know what to do.” And sure enough, a big, co