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.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Clover,” Little Red Bear greeted. “It looks like you’re trying to move the whole meadow today.”
“Only the comfortable parts,” she responded.
He smiled and settled onto a nearby stump.
Mrs. Clover straightened the bundle, tucking the loose stems back beneath its tie.
“Fine grass this year,” she said. “Good and dry. I’d like to keep it that way,” she commented.
Above them, a few golden Autumn leaves stirred against a clear blue sky. The sunshine still felt pleasant, but the shade had begun to cool.
“How much more do you have to gather?” Little Red Bear asked.
“Two more bundles where I gathered this one,” she answered. “And this one needs sorting and carrying inside when I get it hauled up to my place.”
She glanced toward her doorway.
“And that little cover over the entrance needs attention. Rain came through at one corner last time and dripped into my entrance.”
Little Red Bear followed her gaze. A board had lifted at the edge of the small wooden overhang.
“I could carry this up for you,” he offered.
Looking back again at the waiting bundle, “I can manage,” she replied.
“I know,” Little Red Bear said. “But I’m already here, so how about I take this one up for you? And take a look at that board?”
Nettie rested her paws on the bundle.
“Well,” she said at last, “you could take that end, I suppose.”
Red took the bundle carefully and carried it to the sheltered space beside her doorway.
“There?” he asked.
“A little farther back.”
He moved it.
“Now turn it,” she instructed.
He turned it.
“That’ll do nicely,” she concluded.
By the time Cinnamon Charlie arrived looking for Red, Little Red Bear had brought the other two bundles home, and Nettie had begun sorting the grass.
Cinnamon Charlie was a young yearling bear whom Red had taken under his wing, giving him a home and helping him find his way in the world. He approached most projects with considerable enthusiasm. At least for a while until something distracted him.
“What are we doing?” he asked excitedly.
“Getting Mrs. Clover ready for Winter,” Little Red Bear responded.
“I’m getting myself ready,” Nettie corrected. “You’re helping with the carrying.”
Cinnamon Charlie nodded.
“What can I carry?” he asked.
Nettie pointed him to a small basket.
“Fill that with the grass I’ve sorted. Bring it to the doorway, and I’ll take it from there,” she instructed.
Charlie reached for an entire bundle.
“The basket,” she repeated. “Just the basket. Not the bundle. Right there,” as she pointed again.
“Oh. Right,” he responded.
He filled the basket generously.
Nettie inspected the result.
“Don’t overload it,” she corrected. “I can only handle so much at a time.”
Charlie removed a little grass.
Then a little more.
The next basketful met with approval.
While Charlie filled and carried baskets and Nettie arranged her bedding inside, Red went back to his cabin for a hammer, a few nails, and a sound piece of board.
When he returned, Nettie was waiting beneath the overhang.
“It’s that corner. There . . . . on the left,” she told him. “Do you see the one there? The rest of the overhang seems to be holding.”
Red examined the overhand carefully.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “The only problem is this one board that’s begun to weaken and rot a bit.”
“I pay attention to where the rain comes in,” she replied.
Little Red Bear worked from outside while she watched from the doorway, offering the occasional instruction. Cinnamon Charlie held the spare nails and took his responsibility seriously, carefully handing one over when asked.
Before long, the loose board was removed and the new one installed, the small gap was covered, and Little Red Bear ran his paw along the edge of the overhand to check his work.
Mrs. Clover looked it over.
“That ought to keep my bedding dry,” she observed. “Looks nice, too.”
Cinnamon Charlie held up the last nail.
“We have one left,” he offered.
“Good,” said Nettie. “Something for next time then.”
They all worked together then to gather the tools, loose ties, and stray stems. Charlie swept the entrance, discovering that a rabbit’s much smaller broom required a rather different grip and sweeping posture than a bear’s.
Nettie stood beside the tidy bundles remaining under cover. There was enough ready bedding inside for the evening, and the rest could be arranged a little at a time over the coming days.
Her gaze moved toward the repaired corner.
“I’ve been looking at that loose and leaking board every morning,” she said. “Then looking at the grass. By the time I’d done some of one, I hadn’t much left for the other.”
Little Red Bear put the hammer into his bag.
“Jeffrey noticed you were making a good many trips.”
“He would. That rabbit gardener of yours notices everything growing, drying, or needing water.”
“He thought I might come by,” Little Red Bear offered.
“I’m glad you did, Red,” Mrs. Clover responded. “It’s all taken care of now before the cold sets in.”
Cinnamon Charlie leaned the broom against the wall where she showed him.
“What’s next?” he asked.
Nettie considered for a moment.
“For today? I believe we have all earned some sitting down time.”
They rested outside her doorway for a few minutes. The sunlight had moved across the path, and a few bright yellow maple leaves drifted quietly into the place Cinnamon Charlie had just swept.
He watched one settle.
Nettie watched him watching it.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “That one will wait for tomorrow. And it adds a touch of color to the path right now.”
Cinnamon Charlie nodded and left the leaf where it was.
When the bears rose to go, Nettie walked with them to the edge of the path.
“Thank you,” she said. “Both of you.”
“You’re welcome,” Cinnamon Charlie answered before Little Red Bear could say anything.
Little Red Bear stopped, and then glanced back at the dry grass beneath the overhang.
“We’ll stop by again,” he offered.
“Do,” Nettie said. “You’re welcome any time and needn’t wait for something to come loose. Give me heads- up next time and I’ll have some tea and and apple cake ready.”
Cinnamon Charlie grinned at the mention of apple cake.
There are households beyond Honey Hill Country where necessary preparations for winter are piling up, too.
Someone we know may be managing the everyday things well enough, while some of the additional seasonal and heavier jobs are left waiting. They may have mentioned it in passing. Or maybe not. We may have noticed ourselves without any mention.
A little carrying. A small repair. Help putting something within reach. Help putting something away for the season. Sometimes, simply a little time spent letting someone know they are not alone in the world.
We can ask what would be useful, listen to the answer, and make time to do it, without first being asked. Neighbors lending a hand, looking out for each other. It’s how we have always gotten by, isn’t it?
The cold will come in its own time. It always does.
There is still time to stop by and offer a hand to help a friend and neighbor.
Till next time then —
Jim (and Red!)
A Little Red Bear P.S.
Charlie asked whether helping Mrs. Clover counted as our afternoon’s work.
I said it did.
He was pleased. Apparently, he had been worried we might still have more to do and might miss out on the apple cake.
— Red 🐾
A note about images — Original artwork throughout The Front Porch has been created from my concepts and creative direction with the assistance of AI.
