Deep in the Great Forest, past the Clear Blue Lake, and nestled between two of the Singing Mountains is a place called Mosswood. It’s a quiet little place of tall beech and maple trees, the Babbling Brook that runs through, and warm meadows that like to take naps in the afternoon sun. And if you happened to pass through one summer not too long ago, you might have seen a bear cub plodding down Melody Mountain—a cub with a very sticky problem on his paws.
Chapter 17: Cake Day
The shelves of Mosswood’s bakery, the Honey Bun, are always stocked with oat bread, rye rolls, and cracked barley loaves – good, healthful things. There are, of course, sweet treats to be found behind the counter, but most of the Badgers’ baking is for keeping the neighbor creatures well nourished for all their work and play. One special day a month, however, the bakers stowed their loaf pans and pulled out the cake tins.
Cake Day.
Every creature in Mosswood had it circled on their calendars and made sure to get their orders in on time. An airy sponge cake for Sparrow. Strawberry shortcake for the Hedgehogs. A giant triple chocolate torte for the Beaver Lodge.
This month, however, the creature most excited for Cake Day was Bear Cub.
It was his first, after all. The mountain slopes where he lived were filled with lovely neighbors, but no cozy bakeries with specialties in frosting. Bear Cub was beside himself with anticipation.
There was just one problem. He didn’t know what to order. He didn’t even know what the options were.
So one afternoon as the sun lolled in the mid-summer sky, Bear Cub shuffled his fastest towards the Wood. Cake Day was a week away, and he needed to talk to the mouse babes. Surely they would be able to help him.
He was just skirting Woodpecker’s workshop, when a voice called out to him.
“Hallo, Bear Cub!”
The cub stopped and turned. It was Marigold Rabbit. She was hopping through the door of Woodpecker’s oak tree, two large, carved spoons tucked under one arm.
“Hi,” he answered.
“Where are you headed?” asked the bunny.
“The Saf-fower,” he replied (the Mouse family’s shop always being a bit hard for him to say), “to see Maisy and Daisy and Pip and Buttercup.”
Then Bear Cub paused. While he had played with the rabbit kits that summer, he’d never talked with just Marigold before. This was a first. She seemed very nice, though, and he was liking making new friends in the Wood.
So Bear Cub wiggled his stubby tail (to muster some courage) and added, “Wanna come?”
“Sure!” said Marigold, “I can say hi to the mouse babes before I take these spoons back to Pa.”
Bear Cub felt warm fuzzies tickle his tummy as Marigold hopped to his side and the pair started down the path towards the Clearing. He took a breath to keep talking.
And then his mind went completely blank.
Bramble burs!
The fuzzies transformed into flusters. He glanced over at Marigold. Idea!
“Those are nice spoons,” he mumbled.
“Thanks,” said Marigold.
Now what to say?
“Are they for soup?”
“No,” Marigold laughed, “They’re salad spoons. For scooping salad on your plate.”
“Oh,” said Bear Cub.
Oops. At least Marigold didn’t seem to mind. Now what? Thankfully, Marigold saved him.
“Pa asked for special rabbit ones.”
She held them up for Bear Cub to see. Sure enough, a leaping hare was etched into each, its long ears and extended front paws wrapping around the oval of the spoon.
“Wow,” said Bear Cub.
Silence again.
Think, think, think, Bear Cub told himself, Oh!
“What do you eat on Cake Day?” he asked.
“Carrot cake with spinach frosting!” answered Marigold, smacking her lips.
“Yuck!”
The word popped out before Bear Cub could stop it. He winced as he thought he saw Marigold stiffen.
“I mean,” the cub stammered, “I’m sure it tastes-es good to rabbits.”
Not helping. Oh dear, oh dear, oh…
“Maple Bridge!” said Marigold as the pair came up to the Babbling Brook, “I just remembered I need to help Buttercup with the string beans. Say hi to the mouse babes for me!”
“Oh,” said Bear Cub, “Okay. Bye!”
The bunny waved and hopped away towards the Rabbit Burrow. Bear Cub waved back and then plodded over the bridge.
Bramble burs!
For the rest of his walk, an icky, sticky feeling tangled up his belly. Even when he reached the Safflower and the mouse babes ran out to greet him, it wouldn’t budge.
“So what cake are you going to order?” Maisy asked, hopping to her favorite perch on his head as they headed out to hunt for toadstools.
“Ummmmmm,” said Bear Cub, “I dunno.”
“You should try thistle cake!” said Pip.
“Oh,” said Bear Cub, “Ok.”
He wasn’t so sure about the sound of thistle cake.
“What if he wants something else?” said Buttercup.
“He’ll like it,” stated Pip, “Ooooo looksie! Toadstools!”
Bear Cub had been trying to find a way to ask if there might be some other cake he might like, but his words appeared to be tangled up as well.
“And don’t worry,” added Pip, “We’ll tell the Badgers to bake one for you. Just make sure to come Saturday morning to pick it up. Everyone will be there!”
“Everyone?” asked Bear Cub.
He thought of seeing Marigold again. Gulp.
“Oh yes,” said Daisy, “Everyone comes for Cake Day.”
Bramble burs!
For the rest of the week, Bear Cub stayed on the mountain.
“Going to see the mice today?” asked Mama on Tuesday.
“No,” said Bear Cub, “I’ll help you orga-ma-nize the jam jars.”
Mama raised an eyebrow.
“Off for some honey buns?” she said on Thursday.
Bear Cub said he wasn’t really in the mood. And was going with Papa to scrub the front windows, anyways. Mama scratched her chin.
What the cub really was in the mood for was the icky, sticky feeling to go away. No matter what he did, though, he couldn’t shake it. He couldn’t stop thinking about Marigold either. He was pretty sure he’d made her feel bad. But what could he do?
And now he had to eat thistle cake. Maybe it was tasty. He hadn’t told Mama Bear what kind of cake he was getting. He had said it was a surprise. Bramble burs!
When Saturday finally came, Bear Cub dragged himself down Melody Mountain.
What if I got lost, he thought to himself, looking into the deep pines as he trod down the path, Then I wouldn’t have to see Marigold or get thistle cake.
But Bear Cub knew he would have to wander very far in order to get really lost. And being really lost didn’t sound too good either.
Sigh. Thistle cake it was. If only he didn’t stand out so much in a Mosswood crowd.
By the time he reached the Clearing, the Honey Bun was packed. All the neighbor creatures were calling out “Hallo!” and showing each other the masterpieces the Badgers had created for them. Bear Cub quietly sat down at the very back of the line, but the mouse babes found him in minutes.
“Cake day!!!!!!” cried Pip.
“Bear Cub! You came!” shouted Maisy, hopping on his head, “Where were you this week? We missed you!”
Bear Cub mumbled something about cleaning and was glad for Daisy and Buttercup interrupting.
“Look at the sunflower cake Mama’s bringing out!”
It was spectacular. Bear Cub licked his lips looking at the bright yellow frosting. Maybe he could stay a bit before he took his thistle cake home. Maybe the mice would share.
Bear Cub inched closer to the Honey Bun door, the Clearing filling with more happy creatures chatting and holding cakes around him. So far he hadn’t seen Marigold in the crowd. Somehow, though, that didn’t help.
“Bear Cub!” at last boomed Mr. Badger’s voice as the cub squeezed inside the bakery, “Last cake is for you!”
Bear Cub bit his lip trying to smile.
“A thistle honey cake for our favorite cub,” said Mrs. Badger, opening a huge, brown box.
Bear Cub’s mouth dropped. Inside, a giant cake dripped in golden glory that smelled of sweetness and almonds.
Mrs. Badger smiled and added, “Would you like a slice now?”
Bear Cub nodded so hard Maisy tumbled from his head.
“Hey!” she squeaked, but then laughed, “You’d better share after knocking me off!”
Soon all five friends were clinking forks over slices.
It took some time (and help from three of Mrs. Badger’s dishcloths) to finally wipe the last remnants from his snout, but at last Bear Cub backed out of the bakery, the brown box in his paws.
“Told ya you’d like it,” Pip smiled.
Bear Cub was about to reply, but stopped as he felt his bottom bump into something.
“Ooof!” came a voice behind him.
Bear Cub turned. Marigold was on the ground.
The cake in Bear Cub’s tummy soured like day old trout.
“Sorry!” he cried.
Marigold picked herself up and brushed off her fur.
“It’s OK,” she muttered.
Bear Cub flailed.
How could he have made it worse?! His eyes cast around the Clearing.
“Marigold!” he cried, “Wait here!”
Marigold cocked her head, but stood at the Honey Bun door as the mouse babes piled out.
“Wait, watcha doing?” called Maisy, but Bear Cub was already racing to the Purple Aster.
Fortunately, Mr. Hedgehog was watering some planters out front.
“I need your pretti-tiest flowers,” panted Bear Cub.
Papa Hedgehog looked surprised, but set down his watering can and waved the cub inside.
“How about these?” he said, holding up a lovely bouquet of pink snapdragons, violet pansies, and bright yellow marigolds.
“Yes!” cried Bear Cub, “Thank you!”
He dashed back to the Honey Bun.
“Sorry I bumped you,” he said, thrusting the flowers into Marigold’s paws.
Marigold looked confused.
“And sorry I said your cake was yucky…”
The last part had come out a bit muffled. Marigold seemed surprised, and then uncomfortable.
Finally, she looked back at the cub and replied, “It’s ok. Would you like to try some?”
Bear Cub felt his lips twist before he could stop them.
“The Badgers just use spinach to color the green parts of the frosting,” she added.
“Oh!” said Bear Cub.
That sounded much better.
“Yes, please.”
Marigold relaxed.
“This way,” she said, hopping toward the Burrow.
“We’re coming too!” called the mouse babes.
Bear Cub felt a deep sigh leave his lungs as the babes clambered on his back for a ride, thistle cake box secure in their paws.
The Rabbits welcomed all of them into the usual Burrow chaos. Bear Cub was content to sit quietly amidst the hubbub with just a “thank you” to Mother Rabbit when she handed him a slice of cake. Fortunately, Rabbits are generous, young ones included. As for the carrot cake, Bear Cub happily accepted four more slices before heading home.
Still, he managed to find room for one last piece of thistle cake with Mama and Papa that evening. And when Mama asked if he’d like to help her scrape out the old honey pots the next day, Bear Cub licked last bit of honey from his plate and shook his head.
“No thanks,” he said.
He did, however, want to know just how early the next morning he could go back to Mosswood.
Epilogue Thoughts: On Grace (and Friendship)
One of the greatest disappointments to inner 8-year-old-me (besides not being a marine biologist) is that despite decades of practice and a degree in psychology, friendship is still complicated for me. Sometimes it’s downright messy.
To be clear, I have amazing people in my life. They mean the world to me. But I still find myself digging my foot out of my mouth, wondering what others are thinking, and frazzling as my good intentions bury themselves in poor execution. 8-year-old me is appalled.
And I get it. When I was 8, I really wanted friends. But my family was on the move. A lot. The rules of connection kept changing with new places and cultures. Missteps felt constant. Good-byes followed hellos in rapid succession. By the time I reached 12, I was convinced I was destined for hermit-dom.
Now, of course, I know that 12-year-old me was burnt out. Turns out my true nature is much more Doug from the movie Up than hermit. But even though I now have many incredible friends, things still get messy. And when they do, both the 8 and 12-year-olds inside me throw up their hands and moan “WHY?!?!?!?”
Why can’t I say the right thing? Why is this person feel distant? Why did I read that situation all wrong? (Or did I? Hello, new rabbit trail for overthinking…) And round and around they go until the 12-year-old proposes the hermit option again and 8-year-old-me facepalms.
Fortunately, at this point adult me is usually able to step in and put a gentle arm around both of them. I tell them I understand it’s hard when they feel they’ve messed up. (They hate mistakes.) Then I add that there’s no way around it – we’re human. (They hate that too, but OK, fine.)
And I tell them the same goes for our friends. I know they really do care, but have their own things going on. Like me. My inner kids don’t love that, but it makes sense. They calm a bit.
I do my best to offer the same to my boys and the kids who come to my counseling office. Generosity and grace. For ourselves and others. (Yes, there are times when we must choose wisely which friends we put our trust in, but that’s a story for a different time.) Friendship is no cake walk, but it’s worth the bumps and lumps to be in relationship with these wild and wonderful creatures we call humans. May grace and kindness be with you and the little ones you love this week.
*Thanks to Meg Oolders for the lovely silhouette banner at the beginning of this chapter.*