Part One: A Sweet Welcome
When I first arrived in the small town of Maple Hollow, it felt like a painting out of an old book; all crooked chimneys and cobbled lanes, golden fields rolling off into the mist. People waved from porches and offered smiles and small talk. I'd never seen or been anywhere quite so quaint, picturesque, warm…honestly, it felt like home.
Days later, the invitation came in the mail, a thick cream colored envelope with a red wax seal that had been left outside my front door.
Opening it, it read:
You are warmly invited to the annual Maple Hollow Harvest Festival!
When? This Saturday.
What Time? Sunset.
Where? South Field.
Attire? Wear something cozy.
I went, of course. I had no reason not to and the idea of a harvest festival in this place felt so iconic and perfect, I could hardly wait.
On Saturday I set off just as the sky began to slip into gold, the town’s cobblestone streets guided me toward the edge of the woods where a winding path canopied by overhanging branches of orange and red leaves drew me towards the festival grounds.
And then all at once the scent of the forest fell away and I smelled it, the rich aroma of caramel dipped apples and the absolute staple scent of freshly popped popcorn, the perfect festival scent. It was nostalgic in the best of ways and a promise of the wonder that was sure to follow.
Invitation in hand, I approached the gate and offered it to the beaming man standing there. He looked at it with a flicker of puzzlement before his expression lit up with recognition. Straightening the mayoral sash across his chest, he chuckled, “Oh, there’s no need for that,” and gently waved for me to tuck the invitation away. “Everyone’s welcome at the Harvest Festival!”
Then his eyes softened. “But you…” he paused, reaching into his coat pocket. When his hand emerged, he held a delicate brooch shaped like a maple leaf, its surface catching the light with an almost otherworldly shimmer. “This is for you, a little welcome gift from the town.” He placed it in my palm. “Wear it, and everything here is yours to enjoy.”
Part Two: Cider and Smoke
The festival was already bustling when I entered, and the setting sun washed everything in a shade of warm gold.
I was handed a mug, unasked. I took a sip and the drink was spiced and sweet, full of rich maple syrup, buttery vanilla, hints of apples and something stronger that warmed my soul. The vendor who gave it to me smiled warmly and when I offered her payment she shook her head and nodded at my pin. "Welcome to Maple Hollow," she winked and I understood it then.
She wore a headpiece that featured a set of antlers wrapped in ivy, they jutted upwards towards the sky like branches and blended so well into her hair I couldn't even see the headband. Before I could ask where she’d gotten them, she turned away and began to serve the couple behind me. So, mug in hand, I set off to see if I could procure myself one.
But as I wandered on, my mission faded from my mind as I found myself flowing along with the crowd where we all gathered near a vendor who was tending to a firepit where plates of brownies sat nestled in the embers. As we watched in fascination, the vendor turned with a piece of brownie in hand and tossed it into the middle of the flames, causing the embers to crackle and spiral upwards!
The vendor grinned. “Gotta feed the fire—he worked hard. Can’t let you get all the good stuff!” With a soot-smudged smile, he watched as the brownie vanished into the flames. Then, clapping his hands, his assistant stepped forward to pull plates from the glowing coals.
Still marveling at the ritual, I nearly jumped when a plate was pressed into my hands. I braced for heat—but it was cool to the touch! In the center sat a brownie, that was deliciously warm, dark and dense with a subtle hint of spices all kissed by the fire's smoke. Each bite was a mouthful of pure chocolaty bliss. I’d never tasted anything so delicious!
I licked the last of it from my fingers and stacked the dish with the rest. Then, swept up by a joyful tune, and in a moment of revelry, I found myself laughing and dancing under the golden sunset, feet light as air and heart full.
Part Three: A Treat & A Gift
Tired but delighted, I found myself strolling along gazing at booths when the most wondrous scent drifted out and beckoned to me. Curious, I stopped and made my way over.
The booth was manned by several children in the most realistic animal masks I'd ever seen. They smiled at me and motioned to the table that was splayed out with tray upon tray of fire roasted sweet potatoes, split skins crispy and their bright orange insides wonderfully fluffed with a pat of butter nestled into them and drizzled with thick molasses that filled the air with a sweet and earthy warmth with just the slightest undertones of spiced caramel and brown sugar.
"It's a lunch special at the schoolhouse!" a rabbit-child said as she offered me one.
How could I possibly say no? So potato in hand, I settled myself beneath a nearby tree and munched on my treat.
No sooner had I finished did a cart appear before me seemingly out of thin air. The vendor was singing a song in a language I didn't know and as I looked up at her I was startled to see she had a crow perched on her shoulder, its head cocked to the side as it observed me for a fleeting moment before ruffling its vibrantly iridescent feathers and settling back to look almost bored. In the woman’s wooden cart were jars of harvest preserves gleaming a wondrously bright red.
Before I could ask anything, she handed me a jar and winked, stopping her song for just a moment to smile and say, “For later,” as she pressed it into my palm and wrapped my fingers around it. I looked down at the jar and without it being open, I could somehow smell the thick, rich sugared notes of tart apples and cranberries and oranges and spices that were within. I smiled and lifted my gaze to thank her, but I must have been staring into it far longer than I realized, because by the time I did, she was gone.
Part Four: The Bake Off and the Woods
At the heart of the fair, a makeshift stage hosted the town’s annual bake-off. The air was thick with the spiced, buttery smell of baked goods, and the thrill of friendly competition. The judges stood gathered around a table laid out with treats and perhaps it was the setting sun playing tricks but it seemed like their shadows seemed to move just slightly out of sync.
After much deliberation, they were unable to decide whose baked good was the winner. Turning to face the crowd, one of the judges declared a tie breaker would be needed and without warning he pointed to me and asked me which of the three contenders I liked the best, Miss Marigold’s Banana Bread, Master Edwin’s Spiced Cake or Julia Fern’s Blueberry Pumpkin Scones.
They all stepped back as I stepped up to the table, I nervously tasted each and though I wanted to pick them all, I knew I had to choose just one. With my choice made, the winner was crowned and laughter and cheers rang out like music as the winning treat was passed around for all to sample.
Part Five: A Quiet Moment
After the excitement of the bake off, I found myself needing a moment to myself and a breath of air. I slipped past the tents and along a path that wound itself into a patch of woods whose leaves were the color of flames against a darkening night sky. I trailed along through the trees, the air rich with the sweet aroma of maple and grounded with hints of earthy birchwood trees.
For a moment, everything was still. The sounds of the fair faded, and I felt the forest listening. I stood stock still and listened along with it. Enjoying a moment of calm and quiet as the sun lowered itself below the horizon and the hues of gold shifted to a bruise of beautiful purples and pinks. And then I turned and began to walk, letting my feet take me where they willed.
Part Six: The Lantern Bearer
And just when I thought I might have wandered too far I saw him.
He didn’t speak, he simply came out of the darkness, a flannel cloak wrapped tightly around him and lantern held in hand, the round orb of light inside soft and golden. He looked at me with kind eyes, and motioned towards where the festival was. Then turned and began to walk towards it on a trail of mahogany, bergamot and a delicate veil of earthy musk.
I followed.
He led me back into the fair. But now… everything felt different. Night was taking hold and the festival had come to life in a new way. The booths had lit lanterns hanging at their fronts, pathways were lined with string lights that kept the night at bay and guided the patrons around the festival, and the patrons themselves seemed to glow with a light of their own. Everything felt brighter, more alive, as if I had crossed into a deeper layer of celebration.
Following the lit path I was led to the fairground, I hadn’t even realized there were rides here. At the center a carousel hypnotically went round, booths with carnival games were set up, but the sight to behold was the ferris wheel set at the back that seemed to touch the sky. I looked up as it turned, lights of the wheel set against the dark backdrop of the sky, and before I knew it I was stepping onboard. As I neared the top, time seemed to slow down — or maybe time was just different here. The scent of the air was starlit, full of some distant, twilit sweetness I couldn’t describe.
Part Seven: Red Sugar Wishes
As I made my way back to the booths, I stopped to play a game that seemed simple enough, all I needed to do was toss a ring onto the neck of any of the dozens of bottles that were clustered together. I played a round with six chances and missed them all but it didn’t matter, because with each throw, the patrons around cheered me on and even though I didn’t win, the girl in the patchwork dress who was running the booth offered me a sparkling red candy apple, as a consolation prize.
“Make a wish before the first bite,” she instructed me.
So I did, though I had no idea what to wish for.
The glossy shell of the apple snapped sharply between my teeth, all bright sugar and sticky warmth before the refreshingly crisp tartness of the apples underneath hit me. I thought of summers I barely remembered, and winters that hadn’t happened yet. Unable to stop myself I took another heavenly bite. The girl grinned and nodded as though I’d passed some kind of test.
Part Eight: Autumn’s Hearth
Not far from there, I found a quiet corner of the fair where an old stone hearth quietly crackled. I sat without meaning to.
Someone had set out hand-stitched cushions and wool blankets and as I wrapped myself in one, the aroma of warm cakes, spices and notes of fresh wood enveloped me like a hug. As I lounged there, more and more people stopped to take a moment of rest. No one spoke yet somehow it felt like we were all waiting for something.
As we all sat, a woman came over with a tray of intricately patterned cups. When she got to me I graciously took one with a nod of thanks as notes of rich spices, fresh cream and earthy black tea curled into the air like a lullaby.
With the chill of the night pressing in, brew flowed into me like velvet; warm, smooth, soft and soothing. The fair continued in quiet motion around me. Lanterns bobbed in the breeze. Children laughed and chased shadows that danced just ahead of their feet. Someone strummed a guitar and moments later the sounds of singing joined in.
Part Nine: Festival Glow
I’d stayed longer than I’d meant to.
Past the music and the laughter, I found myself wandering once more, following little curls of scent and color until I stood beneath an open canopy of string lights that had been strung between trees. Delicate paper garlands shifted overhead like moth wings. Women dressed like fae were handing out garlands of flowers, bubbly music played, the revelry seemed to be at a crescendo and the air felt electric and glowing.
Off to the side a striped canopy twined with grapevine and golden apples housed a wall of barrels from which wooden cups were being filled and passed out. I joined in the procession to get myself a cup.
The drink inside was a smooth harvest mead, sweetly fruity and boozy and wonderfully spiced. A toast was raised, though no one said a word. We all drank. The woman beside me clapped my shoulder warmly and smiled, and for just a second, her eyes flickered like candlelight. I lingered there, warmed from the inside out, surrounded by revelry, raucous chatter and the wonderful buzz of camaraderie as stories were told and recounted over raised cups.
In that moment, everything shimmered — the stars above, the festival lights, even the grass beneath my feet. I no longer questioned where I was or how the night never seemed to end. I only knew that it had become something more than a festival.
Part Ten: The Last Lantern
And then all too soon the night was over. Almost like magic, things began to slowly wind down and the lights of the festival slowly faded as vendors sold out the last of their goods and closed up their booths.
But as their lanterns went out new lanterns were lit, ones marking the path back home.
Joining the trickle of patrons who followed along the meandering pathway, the sounds of laughter and excitement punctuated the night. And then, as I reached the last lantern that was swaying gently on a crooked branch near a signpost pointing towards the town, I stopped for a moment and lingered at the edge of the woods the scents of the night air around me and looked upwards to see a sky spilling over with stars. There were so many they looked like spilled sugar across black velvet.
And in that moment something stirred quietly inside me, a warmth not from fire or tea or festival cheer, but from the quiet wonder of it all. Taking a deep breath of cool autumnal air, I stepped past the last lantern, and in that moment it felt as if I was stepping back into another world, as if the magic of the night faded as I moved past the glow of the last lantern. And though my heart was heavy, I knew I would be back next year, so looking ahead, I move onwards, letting the stars above guide me home.
We hope you enjoyed your journey to the Harvest Festival in the small town of Maple Hollow where things are a bit more magical than they seem. If you want to keep a bit of that magic alive, be sure to check our our Harvest Festival Collection that inspired this story and as always we hope you have a scent-sational time!
- Kitty.
