By the time Ennis Greenlea reached the edge of Butterfield, he had three things in his wagon that nobody had paid him to haul.
A wool shawl.
An empty pie plate.
And a small boy’s left boot.
The boot concerned him somewhat.
He could account for the other two.
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 —
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.
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.
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 —
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.
The other day I came across a simple thought that stayed with me much longer than I expected.
It wasn’t complicated. In fact, it centered around one of the smallest marks in our written language — a tiny little dash.
You know the one. The little dash between the dates.
Every life can eventually be described by two dates. One marks the day we entered the world. The other, someday, marks the day our earthly story is complete.
Between those two dates is a simple little dash.
But when one thinks about it, that tiny dash mark somehow has to represent an entire lifetime.
Not just the years . . . . the life. The living in between the dates.
And that got me thinking.
Perhaps the most important part isn’t the dates at all.
Perhaps it has always been the life between them.
February can feel long.
Not dramatic. Not tragic. Just . . . . long.
The trees are bare. The color has drained from the fields. The air moves a little slower.
And yet — there is motion.
A flutter in the honey locust.
A finch on the ledge.
A woodpecker arriving like he owns the place.
February is National Bird Feeding Month.
And it is not only about enjoying the view.
It is about helping birds make it through winter — and preparing the ones who are about to arrive after journeys that stretch farther than we can easily imagine.
