In which Jude and Levi work in the woodlot.
Drip, drip, drip. Two cold drops found the gap between collar and skin, despite his black and silver braid. Jude twitched at the chill but did not stop. The heavy mulch bucket would grow no lighter. The ground gave a little, but did not squelch as he followed his son through the woodlot, carrying buckets of compost for the cherry trees, and a shovel. The woodlot’s oaks, walnut, elms, and other trees blocked some of the cool, wet wind, but did nothing for the wet dirt and leaves under his boots. A jay fussed, echoed by two squirrels that insulted his intelligence.
“Dad, how much longer is it supposed to rain?” Levi skirted a mound of scat. “Raccoon.”
“Large raccoon, and no more for the rest of this week.” Which is what the forecasters had said the week before, and another inch had fallen, followed by chilly weather and skies the gray of lead. The days and tempers both grew shorter.
“When will Claire come home?”
Their arrival at the cherry trees spared him from a rapid answer. They’d staged all the compost over the past week. Now they could fertilize the trees, protecting the roots for the winter as well. Jude tipped his one bucket onto the pile and set it aside as Levi added his pair. Then he handed Levi the smaller shovel and said, “Her uncle hopes Monday next week, after Mass.”
She’d moved in with her blood kin, Paul Schmitt and his wife, for the last three weeks. While the Commonwealth Child Protective Service considered her transfer of custody and adoption request, it was easier for her to schedule the interviews and lawyer meetings if she stayed in town. Too, Paul Schmitt had primary legal custody.
“I miss her. Even if she is a girl,” Levi added. Girls were now icky.
“Your mother and I do as well. So, you start here, and I will begin at the far end.”
Levi scowled at the mound, then started work. “Why doesn’t AJ help, sir?”
Jude had to smile a little, since his son looked the other way. “For one, he is having his check-up this afternoon. Two, he would stir and scatter instead of mulch.” AJ remained overly fond of playing in rather than transporting dirt, unless he transported it on his person, something his mother frowned upon. Getting it off the boy and onto the ground posed yet another point of difficulty. Jude adjusted his gloves and began moving the compost. Even with his weak hand, he still shoveled more than Levi.
A third-grade grumble muttered through the wet October air, then subsided. He’d learned, at last, perhaps, that grousing about farm chores did not make them disappear. Jude agreed with his son in general, not that Levi needed to know that. The quiet afternoon grew warm as they worked, and Levi quickly shed his jacket.
Great God be thanked, the wet season had waited until after all but the last apples and nuts had been harvested. The farming year had been sufficiently rough without rain during harvest. Late frosts had caught the fruit trees, reducing the crop by a third. They had been due. Jude moved to the next tree. Yes, they could have carried the compost to each tree, then worked it in, but this seemed an easier way. The wheelbarrow would have been ideal, but it had sunk in the mud when he’d tested the soil’s firmness. Were the earth Elementals still fussing about the water Elementals causing problems? He checked on Levi, then returned to his own trees. Who squabbled more—Elementals or siblings?
“That looks like work,” a harsh voice observed from overhead. He straightened up and glared as a melanistic northern harrier landed on one of the branches just out of reach.
“It is. No work, no eat.”
“For you, not for me,” the Familiar retorted, beak in the air.
Jude caught a glimpse of Levi making a face toward the hawk, and ignored it. No amount of fussing, scolding, chastisement, intimidation, or other attempts at reforming Shoim’s behavior and curbing his attitude did any good. Jude contented himself with a glare and moving more compost around the roots of the cherry tree. He’d pruned them already.
“Just so you know,” the harrier said in English, “there are some new people renting the second house on Grauer’s farm. Mrs. orchard-DeBoer told Mrs. Schwartz that the new people don’t understand the laws about trespassing yet.”
“I’m warned. Thank you.” Jude moved to the next tree. “How are the winds?”
“Just winds. The clouds are low but not full of rain at the moment.” His tone suggested that he anticipated change. Perhaps.
An hour later, Hunter and son plodded back to the yellow farm house. Shoim remained in the woodlot, dining on a dimmer-than-usual dove, not that doves in general were known for intelligence. “I don’t like English,” Levi declared as they looked both ways twice before they crossed the private farm road between the woodlot and the home acre. No one should be coming or going, but this was Friday, and a full moon, a week before the eve of All Hallows. All things were possible, especially inconvenient or dangerous things.
“You prefer speaking in German, or you dislike the class?” He lowered the shields on the home place as Levi opened the gate, then raised them after they passed through. Levi still didn’t have the strength to work the shields on his own.
“Class.” He kicked at a bit of grass as his father opened the shed and they put the shovels into their places, then the buckets. “I want to read real books, not the stuff we do for school.”
St. Wilborada inspire me, please. “Mrs. Richards has what she thinks are good reasons for what you are currently working on, Levi. I know it is not fun, but do your best, please.” He’d have tossed the books into the creek, were it up to him, save that they might poison the fish. They were either boring, preachy, or both. After two collisions with the teacher, Lucy had declared a truce and compromise. Levi could read fun books for free-choice book reviews as well as on weekends if he did his best with the assigned books for class assignments. Mrs. Richards had reluctantly agreed. “And check your shields.”
Levi scowled, looking rather like his mother for a moment, and his shields grew stronger. “Sorry, sir. I forgot.”
And he was tired, and young. “Thank you. It will get easier with time.” Already he did better than some adult magic students. Granted, Levi had his parents and Claire as role models and horrible warnings.
“Yes, sir.”
They scraped their boots on the new scraper outside the mudroom door, then went in. Levi shucked off boots and jacket, then hustled deeper into the house. Jude moved the footwear to the proper place, and straightened the small jacket. With a bit of a wince he unlaced his own boots and put them beside Lucy’s work boots. His left hand ached from the damp, chilly weather, and his back muttered darkly about youth, foolishness, and increasing mileage. He went into the kitchen and started water heating for tea. A pork shoulder roast simmered in the large pot on the stove, sending wonderful, meaty scents through the house. His mouth watered. Surely Lucy wouldn’t notice if he took a slice to test the flavor.
“Mow.” Bauxite glared at him, yellow eyes intent as he lifted the lid on the heavy pot.
“You’d tell, wouldn’t you?” he asked in his native tongue.
“Mraaaaat.” he took that as an affirmative that indeed, the black cat would apprise his lady wife of his lapse out of moral probity. Or she wanted more kibble. Jude added a little water to the pot, then replaced the lid and shook some cat food into Bauxite’s dish. The kettle had heated, so he made a hearty tea. Soft crunching sounds followed him up the hallway until he turned into the newer part of the house.
(C) 2026 Alma T. C. Boykin All Rights Reserved
