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Reggie followed Hanson and Woody from the schoolroom. He hung back a bit, seeing Woody talking seriously to his brother. He knew all about older siblings and their serious talk – mostly it was threats about being good punctuated at times with a little pinch or two if his sister didn’t think he was paying proper attention.
He loved his sister and he was pretty sure Hanson felt the same about his brother. But boy-oh-boy, sometimes his sister sounded just like his Ma. Not that he didn’t love his Ma, either, It’s just that sometimes it felt like there were just too many rules to remember.
He sat near the two boys, on the ground, drawing little pictures in the dirt. He could see Hanson glancing his way, squirming a little. ‘Hey, Woody!’ he said quietly, in a hopeful voice. ‘You think Hanson and me could just play over there. In the corner. I promise we won’t go anywhere else.’
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When Summer warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown/When straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town/When honey spills, and apple swells, though wind be in the West/I'll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best!
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