Springtime with geraldin.., p.1
Springtime with Geraldine Woolkins, page 1
SPRINGTIME WITH GERALDINE WOOLKINS
KARIN KAUFMAN
Copyright 2020 by Karin Kaufman
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons or mice, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Cover and interior illustrations by Adrian Cerchez.
Contents
Map
Are You Ready?
GERALDINE BECOMES A MIDDLE MOUSE
THE TIME OF FLOWERS
SAMUEL AND THE HONEY BEES
THUNDER IN THE NORTHERN LANDS
PENELOPE'S NEW BEST FRIEND
THEODORA CRESWELL IS MISSING
THE SQUIRREL WHO HAD NO FRIENDS
THE POND
THE WOLF WHO CRIED
THE LONG, LONG DAY
A Note from the Author
The Geraldine Woolkins Series
Thank You!
Are You Ready?
Are you in bed, all snug and comfy under your blankets? Or are you on a couch or chair? Maybe you’re on a train or sitting in your back yard. You might be in school—or you might be waiting for a bus to take you there. It doesn’t matter where you are as long as you’re ready to read or listen to someone read to you, because books are an adventure like no other. Are you ready? Then you may begin.
GERALDINE BECOMES A MIDDLE MOUSE
Geraldine Woolkins woke to the sound of rain pattering on her bedroom window. She was about to turn over on her pine-needle mattress and pull her quilted blanket over her head when she remembered something very important. Today was the third day of April.
“My birthday!” she shouted.
She kicked the blanket until it fell to the floor and bounded out of bed. Dressing quickly in warm clothes—April was still chilly in the Hollow of the family’s oak tree—she darted for the kitchen. Mama would have something special for her breakfast. Walnut pancakes with warm maple syrup, perhaps, or blueberry crumble with an acorn-crust top. Something sweet and delicious. Something suited to the specialness of the day.
This was the day Geraldine became a middle mouse.
She had been a new mouse her whole first year of life, and in all that time she had longed to leave her new mouseness behind and be a grownup. Button, her silly brother, was still a new mouse, and he would be until the middle of summer. But she was grown now. Just like that, she was older and wiser and bigger than Button.
Mama was at the cookstove when Geraldine ran into the kitchen, her nose in the air, searching for wonderful, sugary scents.
But all she smelled was acorn broth and pumpkin soup.
“Mama?”
Mama turned. “Yes, dear?”
“Did you forget it was my birthday?”
“Of course not.” Mama smiled. “And neither did Button. As a birthday present he did your chores for you. He collected acorn shells from the pantry and put them in the cookstove and the fireplace.” Mama pointed at the stove. “That’s why breakfast is ready, sleepyhead.”
“Pumpkin soup?” Geraldine asked. “But I smell something different in the pumpkin.”
“Nutmeg,” Mama said, once more attending to her soup.
“But you usually put nutmeg in a pie.”
“This morning I’m sprinkling it on our pumpkin soup. And I’ve fixed acorn broth. The weather’s getting warmer, and there won’t be many more mornings fit for either soup or broth. Now, go get your father, and both of you sit.”
“Where’s Button?”
“Outside playing. Go on, now. Breakfast time.”
Geraldine shuffled off to the living room, where she found her papa reading by the fire, as he usually did first thing in the morning. He looked up from his book as she entered, and she watched him expectantly, sure he would greet her differently on this special day.
“Is it breakfast?” he asked.
“Acorn broth and pumpkin soup,” she answered glumly, certain Papa would see the injustice of such a breakfast and rectify the situation.
Rectify. Papa had taught her that word last week. It meant to make things right, and a breakfast without pancakes or blueberries on the day she became a middle mouse was a situation that needed to be rectified.
But all Papa did was smile, put away his book, and say, “Scrumptious!”
At the table, Mama set down three small bowls of acorn broth and three large bowls of pumpkin soup, the latter sprinkled liberally with nutmeg.
The nutmeg was fragrant—like cloves and cinnamon rolled in one—but it sat atop plain old pumpkin soup, and Geraldine had eaten pumpkin soup for what seemed like forever. All autumn, all winter, and now into early spring.
She sighed and took up her spoon. Was this day meant to be like any other? Perhaps Mama and Papa had much on their minds and didn’t have room in them to think about her birthday. Or perhaps what was very important to her meant very little to Mama, Papa, and Button.
“Grace first,” Mama said. “Nigel?”
Papa said a blessing over their food, thanked Mama for her skill as a cook, then said, “Let’s eat before this delicious meal gets cold.”
Not feeling like eating, but not wanting to hurt Mama’s feelings, Geraldine began to eat her soup.
“What are your plans today, Geraldine?” Papa asked.
“Nothing special,” she replied.
“That doesn’t sound enjoyable,” Papa said.
Mama shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Nigel. I enjoy days of nothing special. No extra worries or chores.”
“True, Lily,” Papa said. “But we can savor the nothing special just as much as the special.”
“Now that I agree with,” Mama said.
They ate in silence for a minute, and then Papa, as if the significance of the day had just occurred to him, said, “You can open your birthday presents after dinner, Geraldine. By the fire.”
Presents! The day was looking brighter. “Papa, I’m a middle mouse today.”
Papa leaned back in his chair, touched a finger to his chin, and considered this piece of news. “By gum, you are. Yes, I think you are.”
“Papa, you know I am!”
He laughed, and Mama joined in the laughter.
Geraldine sat straight as a daffodil stem on a sunny day. They hadn’t forgotten her! They hadn’t forgotten that this day was special! “I’m determined to savor the day,” she announced. “Determined.”
“That’s the spirit,” Mama said, rising to clear her bowls.
“Everything is different now,” Geraldine said. She was also determined to forget the plain old broth and soup. “Everything is better. I’m not a baby anymore. I can do all kinds of things!”
“You’re still a very young mouse,” Papa said, his voice low and clear. It was the voice he used when he was warning his daughter not to be foolish.
Before she could assure him she would be a wise middle mouse, the door to the Hollow burst open and Button charged in, his scarf flying behind him like a trail of birds in the sky.
“Mama, Papa! I found a field of dandelions! A whole field!”
“Button, shut the door,” Papa chided.
“But dandelions!” Button whirled about, slammed the door shut with both hands, then spun back again. “Dandelion roots and leaves—and all the flowers! I want to pick them and put them in the pantry.”
Geraldine rolled her eyes. “You don’t do that with dandelions in the spring. They have to stay fresh. You leave them in the field to grow until you need them, and then you pick them.”
“But you can dry some for the pantry,” Button said. “Right, Mama?”
“They’re more appetizing when they’re fresh,” she replied, “but I’m glad you found a whole field of them. Now we know exactly where to go when we need fresh greens and flowers.”
Looking very pleased with himself, Button plopped down on a chair. “I’m glad I found them, too.”
“Anyone can find dandelions,” Geraldine said. “They’re everywhere.”
“Not a whole field,” Button countered. “It was hidden, and I found it.”
“You’re being boastful,” Geraldine said. From the corner of her eye, she watched her parents, waiting for their reaction. Surely they would rectify this situation—and rectify Button. They didn’t like boastful mice. It was good to be pleased with doing well—that was to be expected—but prideful boasting, especially when bickering, was not allowed.
“I’m not boasting, Geraldine, I’m happy!” Button said.
“You didn’t find anything special.” Geraldine rose and took her bowls and spoon to the kitchen sink. “We’ve all found dandelions. Don’t be a baby.”
“You’re mean!” Button shouted.
“Stop it this instant!” Papa said. His whiskers, though stiff as twigs, were angrily flicking the air.
Then, to Geraldine’s utter surprise, her papa rectified her. “Don’t be unkind,” he said. “Be pleased for your brother. He found something good that we can all share in. Now go out
When her Papa rose to take his dishes to the sink, Button turned to Geraldine and stuck out his tongue.
“Stop it!” she shouted.
Papa spun back from the sink and glared at both of them. It was unfair! Her papa had scolded her, not Button, and now Button was sticking his tongue out. And Papa hadn’t seen it. And he was agitated.
“Outside,” Mama commanded.
Geraldine grabbed her coat and scarf and scurried out the door. She would ignore her brother and play with her sparrow friend, Penelope Huckleberry. That’s what she would do. She was a middle mouse and he was a baby with his tongue out, and she would ignore him and everything he did.
“Where are you going, Geraldine?” Button called out. He chased after her, but she refused to slow her steps, answer him, or turn around.
When she reached the Maple Forest, he was still following her and still asking where she was going, though he could plainly see. It seemed to Geraldine that the older she got, the more annoying her brother became.
At the base of Penelope’s maple tree, Geraldine looked up and called for her friend. The sparrow family’s nest was clearly visible through the sprinkling of new green leaves, but the nest appeared to be empty. The branches all around were empty, too, and the tree was silent. Only two days ago, the tree had sounded with the pleasing chirps of sparrows and finches, like a dozen tiny bells pealing a greeting to the day.
“Penelope?” Geraldine said.
There was no reply.
“She’s playing with her real friends,” Button said.
Geraldine whirled around. “Go away!”
She’d forgotten her plan to ignore him. To make up for her error, she would have to doubly ignore him.
She marched off, as quickly as her legs could take her, away from Button and toward Acorn Hill. Adventure was what she needed on this special day. A middle-mouse adventure, on her own and far from her pesky brother.
And indeed, the faster she walked and the more she ignored Button, the farther she found herself from him, until at last she was atop Acorn Hill and her brother looked like a speck the size of a grasshopper at the bottom of the hill. After a minute, Button walked away, back to the Oak Forest.
Standing at the very highest spot on the hill, Geraldine looked out toward the Northern Lands. She and her rabbit friend, Cheddar Brush, had spent hours here last fall and winter, and two days ago, on the first day of April, they had met on the hill and gazed in wonder as the fresh spring world bloomed around them. From No Wolves Creek to Chestnut Hill and the Southern Lands, God was making everything new.
She and Cheddar had been babies last April, too young to remember springtime, but two days ago, sitting atop the hill and sharing a juicy wild daffodil bulb, they had watched the world came back to life.
Geraldine realized then why her mother sang springtime songs as she swept the floor of the Hollow and shook out the curtains and rugs. And Cheddar said he knew now why his mother cleaned their den in the spring and his father hummed songs while he repaired holes in their pantry and gathered spring mushrooms.
Cheddar was with his family today, but Geraldine cheered herself with thoughts of what they would do tomorrow, now that she was a middle mouse deserving middle-mouse adventures.
She sat down under a shrub. Its leaves were full and fluffy, unlike most of the trees she saw, whose leaves had not yet fully sprouted. Papa had told her they would sprout soon. April was a time of blossoming, he’d said, not fullness. Not yet.
Geraldine looked down the hill again to make sure her brother was gone, and was happy to see he was. “Good,” she said to herself.
“What’s good?” a voice said.
Geraldine jumped. She stood and circled around, looking left and right and up and down, examining the shrub and the grass at her feet. “Where are you? Who is that?”
“It’s me.”
“Who’s me?”
“Here, on a leaf.”
Geraldine looked at the shrub. “I don’t see anything.”
“Because you’re not looking closely enough.”
She peered into the shrub.
“Look, I’m waving,” the voice said.
One of the leaves shook ever so slightly.
There, in the middle of a supple green leaf was the smallest creature Geraldine had ever seen. It was all dark brown, with a brown head, a brown body, and brown legs, and its many legs were no thicker than a mouse’s eyelashes.
It was so small and slender that Geraldine lost all fear of it and drew closer. “What kind of creature are you?”
“I’m an ant,” the creature said.
“I’ve heard of ants, but I’ve never seen one of you before. I’m a middle mouse. Aren’t you afraid of me?”
“Should I be?”
“I’m much bigger than you.”
“But I’m so small I’m hard to find,” the ant said. “If I ran away into the shrub, you would never catch me. And I can climb to the top of a tree and dig deep in the dirt. Can you?”
“Of course I don’t dig in the dirt. Mice don’t do such things. We’re not foxes. What’s your name?”
“Dibble.”
“I’m Geraldine.”
“Can you tell me why you said, ‘Good’?”
Geraldine sighed and flopped down in the grass. “It’s good that my brother let me be and walked back home. He was annoying me, and it’s my birthday.”
“I have about fifty brothers,” Dibble said, “but they don’t annoy me.”
Geraldine picked at a blade of grass, pondering the ant’s distressing situation. Fifty brothers. Fifty Buttons. “They don’t annoy you?”
“Sometimes, but not now. I have fifty sisters, too, and we’re too busy building our ant hill to be annoyed with each other.”
“What’s an ant hill?”
“It’s our home. It’s not far from here. Do you want to see it?”
Geraldine was sure Button had never seen an ant hill. He didn’t even know what an ant was, but now she did, and when she told her parents about her discovery, it would sound far greater than some old dandelion field.
“Yes!” she said eagerly. “I want to go!”
“Follow me,” Mateo said, climbing down from his leaf and racing to the bottom of Acorn Hill. His tiny legs carried him quickly over grasses and violets, and in short order Geraldine stood before a dirt hill as tall as two elder mice, one atop the other.
All around the hill, creatures like Dibble scurried about, bearing with them balls of dirt and bits of leaves, working tirelessly to build their home. They were as industrious as any mouse Geraldine had ever seen.
One of them traveled up the hill hoisting a three-leaf clover over its head, and it disappeared with its prize into the hole in the middle of the hill.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Geraldine exclaimed. “That clover was bigger than five ants!”
Dibble beamed. “We’re very strong creatures.”
“There are so many of you. Why haven’t I seen an ant before?”
“You have to look closely.”
“But your ant hill is big.”
“This is the first spring we built it here,” Dibble said. “Before this, we lived in the Southern Lands, but our ant hill was flooded with rain two times.”
“I’m very sorry,” Geraldine said.
Dibble shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not hard to build a new hill. Sometimes we enjoy it.”
“You enjoy working?”
“Don’t you?”
Geraldine thought a moment. On cool autumn days she found pleasure in gathering blueberries and acorns, and sometimes she liked to help Mama cook pies, but most of the time she didn’t enjoy chores. She preferred to play with her friends, and to have the whole day stretch before her with nothing but happy discoveries filling it. “I don’t think I’d like to build an ant hill,” she said.
Dibble laughed. “Mice are too big for an ant hill.”
“Can I look inside?” Geraldine asked.
“All the rooms are too small. Smaller than your head. If you tried to crawl inside, you would ruin all our work.”
“Then I’ll never crawl inside,” Geraldine promised. “And I’ll tell my friends to leave your home alone.”
