Hello everyone, everywhere,

This week has been rather intense for me. I just got cleared by the doctor for the sprained leg and arm that I’ve had terrible trouble with for the past couple months. It’s been a complete torture test between me walking and stretching and my therapists killing me while they try to make me better.

On another note, Michelle has a new business called PelikanBox. It involves sending care packages for kids who are away at school. I’m so proud of her. She already got her first review and it’s a good one.

Dean’s doing well; he’s back teaching again and having a good year so far. I call him The Teach. Last week he got my dishwasher going. Thank you, Dean! I made him barbequed burgers and gave him a cold Coke and he was pretty darn happy with the whole situation. As was I.

And Grandma’s doing her exercises every day. God bless her.

Okay, that’s enough fun for now…I don’t think so! But before we get to this story, you know what time it is.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest.

With a grin and a scuff of my boot, may I present…



Henry Snibble is by all accounts a good guy. His son Sam would say, “I like him all right. It’s the chores thing that flips, spins, and steps on my hat. But he’s in charge. Personally, I believe that when my dad says that to my mom, it’s code for something because every time he says it she laughs until tears run down her face.”

On to Sam’s day. The sun was warm and the trees, sadly, gave their leaves to the ground. That did not help Sam Snibble. His father had plans for him which were plainly not what Sam had planned, but he could only sigh and pick up the rake.

Young Sam tried to look busy, and folks, trying was the best that boy seemed to be able to do. Then he heard the sweet sound of the crack of the bat. Down the street, maybe two good gobs and throw a stick and you’re there, were the boys playing ball.

There was obviously a struggle going on in Sam’s mind: rake or play?

As he started putting piles of leaves together, all of a sudden Sam froze in his… well…you guys get it, right? It doesn’t matter. Sam saw what will forever be known as the magic leaves. As a bright eleven-year-old, would you investigate that the leaf piles are fighting back? No! No, you do not do that. You go get the boys from down the street.

“Hey, guys, I need you quick! My leaves are magic”, Sam Sibble yelled. All the boys ran to the leaves. The plan was now hatching for Sam.

The guys huddled together. They were peroooven (that’s thinking talk) about what to do if the leaves jumped again. And then it happened. First like a worm slithering under the leaves.Then once again, like magic, another pile moved. At that point, Sam’s plan for help raking was going bust fast.

The nine-year olds took off running, followed quickly by the ten-year olds. The two eleven-year-olds saw all the raking that had to be done so they both chirped up, “We’d like to stay, but you see we cannot rake leaves that move on their own.”

Sam looked disheartened to see his foolproof plan fail. He stood for a moment and watched more leaves moving on their own, up and down. He finally decided to check what was making this magic. He barely got three feet when his dad and mom came flying out the back door yelling,  “Murph, where are you?”

Sam looked bewildered. All of a sudden, the leaves were moving toward him. Before he could cry out, a golden-brown-haired little dog with a pushed-in face came right at his feet, sneezed, and then ran to Sam’s mom.

Sam’s mom ended the confusion by saying, “The Reynolds wanted to rake the yard this morning and of course, we offered to watch Murph. He is only a few months old, poor little pug. The Reynolds were thrilled. They didn’t even have to ask.”

Sam Snibble looked at all the leaves he’d have to rake over again, and it looked like he muttered under his breath, “Isn’t mom a great neighbour.”

Oh well, the long and short of this tale is that Sam’s dad did help with the leaves after all. And I’d say that when that little puppy returned home, the leaves were what they were. No magic there.

Two little things: I’m Cynthia Slogan and I live across the street. I’m telling you this story because I’m always watching the neighbourhood. I’m not nosy, just watching, you see. All in all, though, I would say that little Sam Snibble did have quite a day.


By jamesghutcheson

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