“Happy Birthday, Cinnamon Charlie!” — Cinnamon, Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice

Cinnamon Charlie had checked the cake table three times before there was a cake on it.

He was taking no chances.

October 15th was his birthday, and Little Red Bear’s cabin on Honey Hill was getting ready for company.

For readers meeting him for the first time, Charlie is a young yearling bear whom Red took under his wing, giving him a home and helping him find his way in the world. He has curiosity, enthusiasm, and a growing interest in anything happening near the kitchen.

He also enjoys one of the finer arrangements available to fictional characters — a birthday every year while remaining a yearling.

We do find it keeps the cost of candles down.

The cake, however, still needs to be substantial. Cinnamon Charlie will have no other than that.

 

 

 

Outside, Autumn leaves gathered along the path to Red’s cabin. Inside, a few colorful branches and strings of paper leaves made the room festive. Small pumpkins stood near the hearth, and extra chairs had been brought in wherever a chair would fit.

Charlie inspected the table again.

“Is this where it goes?”

“Yes,” Red said.

“Just making sure.”

“You’ve made quite sure. Several times already.”

Charlie straightened a napkin.

There was always something useful a birthday bear could do while waiting.

Jeffrey the Rabbit and his wife, Jolene, were among the first to arrive, bringing their youngsters up from their home beneath Red’s cabin. The little rabbits studied the decorations, then joined Charlie in studying the table.

Mrs. Nettie Clover, an elderly rabbit down the way, followed with a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

“I see you’ve finished your carrying of grass bundles for the week,” she told Charlie.

“I could carry the cake,” Cinnamon Charlie offered.

“I expect someone has that attended to,” she replied.

Bobo and Lily, Little Red Bear’s best friends and former circus performers, arrived together. The two black bears brought cheerful greetings and helped settle the growing company without making much fuss about it.

Before long, Albuquerque Red, the self-appointed Fox Sheriff of the Backwoods, was visiting near the doorway. Swinestein, the little genius mini pig who also made Little Red Bear’s homestead his home, examined the paper decorations with interest, while Rusty the Fairydiddle found a place where a squirrel could see most of what was happening. Up in the rafters.

Cooter, the old Leader of the Hopper’s Holler Raccoon Platoon, came in with a question.

“Am I late?” he inquired.

“For visiting? No,” Red said.

Cooter glanced at the empty cake table.

“For the cake?” Cooter questioned again, a little more anxiously.

“No again,” Little Red Bear answered.

“Good.”

Stanley the Cardinal and Will the Whip-poor-will added their greetings as more neighbors gathered. Farmer Turner and his wife and children came up the path, followed by Alma Mason, Aunt Ivy Willoughby, and Red’s Cherokee friend John Forester. Myra Cookson, of Myra’s Pie Pantry & Goodies Shoppe in Butterfield, brought a covered plate that found a welcome place among the refreshments.

Soon, conversations filled the cabin and spilled onto the porch. Someone moved a chair. Someone else made room on a bench. There were greetings to exchange, parcels to set down, and children to keep gently clear of the serving table.

Then Joanelle arrived.

Charlie noticed immediately. Perhaps it was his little bear nose kicking in.

Joanelle Williamson, proprietor of Joanelle’s — Cakes & Specialty Baking on Main Street in Butterfield, arrived with a Cinnamon Streusel Bundt Cake. White powdered sugar glaze ran in pretty drizzled streaks down its golden ridges.

Her experienced assistant, Agnes Ovenburn, carried it to the table. A sturdy, silver-haired woman who knew her way around a wood-fired baking oven, Agnes also knew when a young bear was getting a little too close to a cake.

“After the candle, Charlie,” she instructed. “Not before, young bear.”

He took a small step back. A little one.

Then he leaned forward slightly to admire it from there.

The cake smelled of cinnamon and warm sugar. Across the room, Autumn treats brought by the neighbors added their own pleasant scents — pumpkin spice, baked apples, and the sort of goodness that makes people ask who brought what.

I have a particular affection for Cinnamon Streusel Bundt Cake. It was one of my favorite cakes to make back in the day, and one of my children’s favorites, too. I always finished it with powdered sugar glaze drizzled over the top and down the sides, and I don’t recall one ever seeing the next morning.

It seemed just the cake for a bear named Cinnamon Charlie, don’t you think?

Of course, a Bundt cake has a hole in the middle, which presented a small question when it came time for the candle.

Swinestein considered the matter.

Red placed the large “1” candle securely in the cake’s ring, on the side facing Charlie.

Swinestein nodded his approval. A satisfactory solution, he concluded.

Charlie’s attention was fixed on the cake as he watched Agnes light the candle’ wick.

The room gradually quieted. Friends leaned nearer, the rabbit youngsters found places where they could see, and someone at the back stepped aside so someone shorter could have a look.

For once, Charlie did not ask about cutting the cake.

He looked around the room.

There was Red beside him. Bobo and Lily smiling nearby. Nettie with her paws folded over her shawl. Jeffrey and Jolene keeping their little ones close enough to see and far enough from the table.

So many neighbors had come.

Cinnamon Charlie smiled.

Then the birthday song and wishes began, and the cabin was full of voices again.

When the singing ended, Red bent toward him.

“Ready?” he whispered in Charlie’s ear.

Charlie nodded. Of course he was. He had been ready since he got out of bed in the morning.

He drew a deep breath . . . . and . . . . Blew!

The little flame twisted around, flickered once, and went out.

For a moment, a thin curl of smoke rose above the white glaze.

Then everybody applauded and cheered —

“Happy Birthday, Charlie!”

Charlie looked at Agnes.

“Now?” he asked.

“Now,” she said.

That was an excellent word, he thought.

Plates began making their way around the room. There was cinnamon streusel to admire, glaze to enjoy, and more than one request for a small additional piece.

Cooter the Raccoon appeared quite willing to help prevent leftovers.

On the porch, neighbors settled into conversation while the children compared their portions and the afternoon light moved across the floorboards.

Charlie opened his parcels slowly enough to enjoy them, though now and then he looked back toward the cake.

Red noticed.

“There’ll be some more for later,” he reassured.

Charlie relaxed.

A birthday ought to have a later, don’t you think?


There is something especially pleasant about an Autumn birthday.

The leaves help with the decorating. Cinnamon belongs in the air. A warm kitchen feels like an invitation, and gathering together gives an ordinary afternoon something to remember.

Charlie’s party had all of that.

By the time the plates were cleared, there were crumbs on the table, paper wrappings to gather, and borrowed chairs that needed to find their way back home.

Cinnamon Charlie stood beside Little Red Bear as the last guests called out their goodbyes.

“Can they come again?” Charlie asked.

“I expect they can,” Little Red Bear responded.

“Before my next birthday?”

Red smiled.

“We needn’t wait that long,” he laughed.

That pleased Charlie almost as much as the cake.

Till next time then —

Jim (and Red!)



A Little Red Bear P.S.

Charlie asked whether being the birthday bear meant he could have the last piece of cake.

I told him we ought to see whether anyone else wanted it first.

He is now considering how early next year’s guests should go home.

— Red 🐾

More Visits with Little Red Bear

If you enjoyed celebrating with my story friends Cinnamon Charlie and Little Red Bear, you can meet more of their neighbors in The Adventures of Little Red Bear, a collection of short stories from Honey Hill Country. The first collection includes “Sir Snapsalot,” the story in which Red meets and takes young Cinnamon Charlie under his wing.

For yourself, for someone who enjoys a good story, or for a little reading together as the evenings grow cooler — you are welcome to Explore the Little Red Bear Books! here.

A note about images — Original artwork throughout The Front Porch has been created from my concepts and creative direction with the assistance of AI.  

 

Before the Cold Comes — Looking After One Another

Jeffrey the Rabbit mentioned it while Little Red Bear was helping him put away a few things from the garden.

“Mrs. Clover has been bringing in her Winter bedding,” he said. “There’s still a bundle beside the path that was there from yesterday.”

Little Red Bear set an empty basket beneath the shelf.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“I expect so. She’s been carrying smaller loads lately. I didn’t know if you might want to stop by to check in on her if you’re going that way later, Red.”

Little Red Bear looked toward the trees beyond the garden.

“I could go that way,” he agreed.

By afternoon, he did.

Mrs. Nettie Clover, an elderly rabbit neighbor,  lived in a snug burrow home a short walk from Little Red Bear’s cabin. She kept her doorway swept, her belongings in their proper places, and a firm opinion about what those places were.

Little Red Bear found her beside a bundle of dried grass nearly as broad as she was.

She pulled it a little way along the path, stopped, and adjusted her grip. Then tugged at the resistant bundle again.

A few loose stems escaped. Nettie looked down at them.

“Well, that’s not very helpful,” she admonished.

 

 

 

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Basic Bear Stuff — Helping a Friend

Small moments. Simple lessons. Everyday joys.

There is a lot we can learn from the little things we do every day.

Join Little Red Bear each Sunday for a simple, colorful moment celebrating kindness, friendship, safety, responsibility, healthy habits, appreciation of nature, and the everyday pleasures of living.

Sometimes thoughtful, sometimes funny, and always gentle and welcoming, Basic Bear Stuff is about showing by example rather than preaching a lesson.

Basic Bear Stuff is made for all ages, and especially for sharing with children and grandchildren. Sometimes a little picture, a gentle laugh, or a simple everyday moment can open the door to a wonderful conversation.

One little bear. One simple moment. Something for all of us.

Welcome to Basic Bear Stuff!

Till next time then —

Jim (and Red!)



A note about the artwork — Each Basic Bear Stuff illustration is created from my original concepts and creative direction, with the assistance of AI, for the world of Little Red Bear and Honey Hill Country.

Wilder Tales — “A Giraffe In A Hurry”

From the critters near home . . . . to the wildlands beyond.

Wilder Tales are small, gentle stories — meant to be read in a few quiet minutes, enjoyed with a smile, and written and shared simply for the pleasure of observing animals a little less settled, and the wider, wilder world they move through.

Nobody could remember exactly who spotted the tree first.

It might have been one of the older giraffes, the kind who noticed things quietly and mentioned them only after being certain. Or it might have been a younger one, hesitant and unsure, keeping it to themself. But once the breeze shifted, word traveled fast thru the herd.

That tantalizing breeze carried with it the clean, green scent of new leaves — the kind that made every giraffe lift their head and take notice.

And such a fine tree it was — broad-limbed, leafy, and standing just far enough away in the distance to feel like a small victory once reached, its newly sprouted leaves tender and bright, bursting with a green, juicy sweetness no giraffe could ignore.

Most of the herd set off at an easy pace, necks swaying gently, steps unhurried. Leaves, after all, were not known for running away. All things in time.

One giraffe, however, had other ideas.

He decided that if he took the narrow path — the one that dipped beneath a few low-hanging branches — he could arrive first, select the most tasty branch, plant his hooves, and begin munching before anyone else even came into view. The thought pleased him greatly.

He lowered his head, picked up speed, and slipped beneath the trees.

Now, it should be said that giraffes are tall for a reason — to reach the highest leaves other grazers cannot — and not, as it turns out, to go rushing about.

As he ran, he turned his head slightly to see how close the others were behind him.

That was when it happened.

BAM!

The sound echoed just enough to make the birds pause and reconsider their opinions of giraffes altogether.

The branch did not move.
The giraffe did.

He sat down hard, legs folding beneath him in a way legs were never meant to fold, stars swirling somewhere near the clouds. When the dizziness settled, he remained exactly where he was, eyes crossed just enough to be concerning.

Someone fetched the large blue ice pack — the one normally reserved for enthusiastic antelope mishaps — and placed it carefully atop his head.

It took a while.

Eventually, it stayed.

The herd arrived shortly after, calm as ever. They passed him by one at a time, unhurried, on their way toward the tree that had started all the trouble.

No one laughed.

One giraffe tilted her head and said, kindly,
“Well… you did get here first.”

The concussed giraffe with the headache sighed, adjusting the ice pack with one careful hoof.

“Yes,” he said. “But I cannot recommend the route.”

They stood together for a time, leaves rustling softly in the distance, the sun warming backs and branches alike. After a while, the headache eased. The ice pack slid off and landed with a gentle thump at his feet.

He rose slowly, and after a few measured steps joined the others. He proceeded then to eat at the same unhurried pace as everyone else.

The leaves tasted just as good.

Maybe better.


 

 


Images have been created for this piece with the assistance of AI . . . .  lovingly prepared and styled for Honey Hill Country and the world of Little Red Bear.

Why do I write these? Aw, I don’t know. Just thought it might make you smile.

 

The Squirrel Has Plans — I Have a List

Heading outside on a beautiful Autumn morning to gather my thoughts and develop a work strategy for the day, I encountered a squirrel in the yard.

I had a list in hand.

The squirrel had a walnut.

At first glance, I appeared to be the better organized of the two. My intentions were written down in a reasonably orderly fashion, with little boxes waiting to be checked.

The squirrel had no notebook, no calendar, and nowhere obvious to keep a pencil.

Nevertheless, he was making considerably more progress it seemed.

I watched him cross the grass with his walnut, stop beside a tree, and look around.

Then he changed direction.

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Meet Chewy — We Think He Works Here

Some new friends arrive with a knock at the door. Others come by way of an introduction.

Chewy the Grasshopper flittered in from the field one day in July, found himself a comfortable spot, and apparently decided the accommodations suited him.

He has been hanging around ever since.

If you have visited The Front Porch these past few months, you may have spotted our little green friend in a picture or two. Usually wearing a straw hat. Frequently chewing on a stem of grass. Orchardgrass, preferably. Generally looking as though whatever needed doing could wait until after he finished enjoying the afternoon.

We thought it was time for a proper introduction.

 

 

 

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