Once upon a time in the hamlet of Hudson in the land of Maine, there came to live an out-of-stater named Banny.

Banny had no idea where he was headed that fine March day when he was plucked from his shelf and packed in a box.

There he’d been, basking with his cousins and siblings in a place called Connecticut, where the days were warm, showers flowed from pipes and snow fell on glass roofs. Banny didn’t know what to think when he suddenly found himself rolled into sheets of newspaper and placed inside a box along with instructions on his needs.

Then he was taped, stamped and tossed on his way.

Bedraggled, chilled and thirsty, Banny emerged at his new residence many hours later. But he soon found himself tucked into a spacious area with good food, plenty of water and a window overlooking a snow-covered yard.

For several weeks, Banny was the toast of the house. His travel-weary mien slowly disappeared as he settled into his new digs and a sleek, new self unfurled like leaves in spring.

As the days grew longer, Banny’s new family had many a conversation about his future. “Where can Banny live?” became a familiar refrain. Family members were seen marching about the rain-soaked yard and then looking to Banny’s window.

At first, Banny fretted. Where would he go? But as time passed, he decided it would do no good to worry, especially since he was well cared for.

It was a lovely day in June when an alarmed Banny found himself whisked outside. Dirt flew as he was jostled about, but before long he was resting comfortably on a small deck not far from his window. At his feet were an attractive Mediterranean blue urn and a small, gray frog that seemed disinclined to conversation, let alone movement of any kind.

His new vantage point overlooked not only a vegetable garden, but also part of the front yard, a spot he hadn’t seen before. Banny’s only worry – and that was soon dismissed – was being out all night on his own. But the stars shone, the moon glowed and the occasional bat dipped and swooped, keeping him company through the short summer nights.

As the days passed, Banny did feel a little lonely, especially at night when he remembered his siblings back in the land of Connecticut. He wished upon a twinkling star that he wouldn’t be lonely forever, mostly because he wasn’t getting anywhere with the stone-faced frog.

Banny was minding his own business just growing one day when a family member stopped by and then began shrieking something about a baby. Banny looked down, and there at his very own feet, just inches from the still-too-reticent frog, was a baby Banny.

From that moment on, Banny resolved to protect the little one from disease and pestilence and bad weather.

The disease part was easy because no one like Banny or the baby lived anywhere nearby – remember Banny was an out-of-stater. The pestilence part was harder because years before Banny’s arrival, there had come a scourge from Banny’s homeland that threatened life as we know it: the Japanese beetle. But one vigilant family member kept an eye on Banny and the baby, scowling and whispering dire predictions of the life span of the beetles when they were discovered on the elder Banny.

The hardest part, however, was the weather. It just didn’t cooperate. Two hailstorms in one day shredded Banny’s dignity, but the baby was unharmed. The unrelenting wind didn’t help matters, either, but Banny’s greatest enemy would soon be the cold. How could he and Junior survive that?

No worries, a family member told him one October day. She had just received a message from Connecticut with a reminder that it was time to put Banny to bed for the winter.

To bed? Banny wondered. How could that be?

Before long, the cold had a shivering Banny worried about the baby. Neither he nor the kid were feeling well. Then a frost hit, convincing Banny that he really needed to take to his bed. And the baby, too.

It was none too soon when the family member drove Banny and Junior up across the lawn and began digging a big hole. Before Banny knew what was going on, he found himself trimmed and planted in the hole with Junior at his side. The family member pounded in a circle of tall stakes, draped the works with burlap and started filling the center with leaves.

At last, Banny and the kid could rest. Every few days, he would rouse from his slumber to hear the muttering of the one called Janine. “It better feel like Florida in there,” she said, as he heard the rustle of leaves and felt a comfortable weight settle on him. Then he heard raking and more muttering, something about how many leaves she would need to fill Banny’s winter bed.

The final touch came in the form of evergreen branches culled from two downed trees. “Camouflage,” she said, as she draped the burlap expanse with branches and set the top of one of the trees in the front facing Banny’s former window. Then she tied red ribbons all about just to make things festive.

It wasn’t long before snow began to fall in fits and starts.

But Banny, the cold-hardy banana plant, had drifted off for a long winter’s nap, with visions of baby Bannys dancing in his head.

Janine Pineo’s e-mail address is jpineo@bangordailynews.net.