Cinnamon Charlie came around the corner of Little Red Bear’s cabin carrying an apple and no particular plans.
Red was standing beside the porch with two leaf rakes.
Charlie stopped chewing.
“I thought we were going to enjoy the afternoon.”
“We are,” Red said, holding out a rake.
Cinnamon Charlie looked at it.
There were several ways he had imagined enjoying the afternoon. None had involved a handle with a leaf rake attached at the end of it.
Above Honey Hill, the November sky was clear and blue. Sunlight warmed the cabin steps, and the breeze was scarcely strong enough to stir the last leaves on the branches. A few mornings earlier, frost had silvered the grass beside the woodpile. Today, Little Red Bear had left his jacket hanging inside.
Cinnamon Charlie took another bite of apple.
“It feels like Summer came back.”
“A little Indian Summer,” Red said.
“That sounds better than raking.”
“It goes very nicely with raking. We can get the path cleared without having cold paws,” Little Red Bear encouraged.
Cinnamon Charlie accepted the rake, although he continued holding his apple in a way that suggested both activities might be difficult to manage at once.
Then something rustled beside the bottom step.
Chewy the Grasshopper had arrived.
He carried a tiny wooden rake and was approaching a pale yellow-green Catalpa leaf lying beside the path.
The leaf was broad, heart-shaped, and at least a foot long. It had a long stem and enough room beneath it to shelter both Chewy and several things he might wish to bring along.
Charlie lowered his apple.
“Oh, this I have to see,” he said.
