Bumblediah Nimbly loved to build. Every morning he sat up in his stump house, his mind buzzing with ideas. He stood one and a half feet tall and wore leather breeches, a green coat, and an orange pointed cap. He had a white beard that stretched to his boots. He prided himself on being able to build anything and mend anything and he always delivered on time. From miles around fairies counted on him to construct their cottages.
One spring morning as the sun made the new leaves glow, Bumblediah crouched outside his stump constructing a fairy cottage. “Hmm let’s see… Now for the front door,” he muttered. Around him were scattered an array of bark, sticks, leaves, and other natural oddities. He lifted a slab of bark and trimmed the rough edges with his knife. He carved a flower pattern and fitted it gently into the doorway.
The sound of laughter mingled with birdsong and he glanced up to spot a flock of fairy children flying his way in a flurry of color. Each dressed like a wildflower.
Is it almost finished?” a fairy alighted beside the cottage. Bumblediah recognized Chamomile. She wore a blue petal dress with a matching bonnet.
“Hmm, I’ll complete it soon. I’ve got the entryway and shutters to carve.” Bumblediah nudged a fairy boy away from a window.
“Will it be ready for our sister’s wedding?” a boy fairy asked. He wore an acorn cap and Bumblediah knew him as one of Chamomile’s younger brothers.
“Humph! I’m always on time aren’t I? Mist and Raindrop will have their home,” Bumblediah said.
Chamomile opened the new door and poked her head through. Half a dozen fairies did likewise. “Can’t we have a small tour?”
Bumblediah frowned. “It’s not perfect yet.”
“Who cares if it’s perfect? I want to see what you added this time.” Chamomile grinned.
“Me too!” Chorused the others.
Bumblediah sighed. Generally, he did not reveal his work until it reached perfection. But he could hardly wait to show it off to someone. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to let them have a peak… But then a gust of wind hit his face. He saw a rain cloud barreling through the sky. “Not now, young’uns. A storm’s coming. You’d best find shelter.”
The fairies giggled as the breeze blew them about.
“Alright!” Chamomile called, “But you’ll have to show us later.”
A drop splashed onto Bumblediah’s nose and a thunderclap split the air. He shoved the cottage under a canopy of vines and rushed inside.
“A perfect day of work ruined,” he harrumphed as he sank into a moss armchair and whittled a fairy bedstead. The storm pounded his stump. He didn’t know it, but a tornado swirled through the cedar trees just missing his house.
A dismal sight met his eyes when he poked his head out in the morning. Broken branches and uprooted cacti lay everywhere. The stream downhill from his stump ran so high it had gone beyond its bank. Worst of all, the vine canopy and the fairy cottage lay crushed beneath a cedar branch.
As Bumblediah glumly gathered the remains he saw a fairy cottage floating downstream. Mr. Bluebonnet zipped back and forth behind it waving his arms. Mrs. Bluebonnet followed behind him, Baby Bee slung over her shoulder. Then came the rest of the Bluebonnet family. Chamomile grinned as she brandished a stick. Acorn looked concerned. Raindrop, (the bride-to-be) flew behind with Bonny, Beatle, and Cloud.
Mr. Bluebonnet spotted Bumblediah. “Help!” He pointed at the house.
Bumblediah stumbled after the runaway house. He dodged a cactus and reached for the building. He missed and it sped past.
“Hurry!” Chamomile shouted.
Bumblediah huffed. Ahead, the stream narrowed. Aha! He could grab it there. He pushed through dense branches trying to get close enough. It was too far.
“A stick!” Chamomile called. “Get a stick!”
Bumblediah snatched up a long staff and dove. It hit the house with a crash and a splash. The Bluebonnets gasped as part of their home broke off and swept downstream. He guided the bedraggled dwelling to shore.
The fairies landed around it. “It’s ruined!” Wailed one of the smaller children.
“Now, now, it’s still in one piece… Mostly.” Mr. Bluebonnet squinted at it as if trying to believe his own words.
Bumblediah inspected the damage. The chimney had disappeared and every window was cracked, but he felt sure he could mend it. “Hmm don’t you worry, I’ll mend it. I can make it good as new in no time along with Raindrop’s cottage.”
As the day went on a fairy flew from the Indian Blanket Manor announcing that a lump of cacti had crashed through the roof. Another came from the Texas Dandelion clan complaining their manor had blown clean away in the tornado. Bumblediah accepted every plea. His workload grew, but his confidence didn’t waver.
A couple of days later as the wind whined over the world, Mr. and Mrs. Armadillo waddled up to Bumblediah with worried expressions.
“We need your help, sir,” said Mr. Armadillo.
Mrs. Armadillo bobbed her snout. “Indeed.”
Bumbediah lowered his hammer. “Help eh? What kind of help?” He had almost completed repairs on the Dandelion Manor.
“A tree landed on our burrow,” Mr. Armadillo said.
“And blocked the entrances,” his wife added.
“Exactly,” Mr. Armadillo said, “so sir, we need your help.”
Bumblediah narrowed his eyes. “Hmm, don’t you have another burrow?”
Mrs. Armadillo snorted. “I’ve raised four sets of children in that burrow. It’s important.”
“Humph. Then can’t you fix it yourself?”
“The thing is sir, we can’t and that’s why we need your help. We heard you were the best builder around,” they replied.
Bumblediah knew the Armadillos were capable builders and didn’t need his assistance. They were probably just curious. “I’m busy," he said.
Their ears drooped. Mrs. Armadillo sobbed. “Well sir, if-if it’s too much trouble. If you can’t fix it, you can’t fix it.” They bobbed off looking as sorrowful as sunken logs.
This cut to Bumblediah’s heart. The poor couple. He helped the fairies; why couldn’t he help the Armadillos? He couldn’t let them think he couldn’t remove a simple tree. He called, “Wait! Alright, I’ll come.”
The Armadillos turned. “Thank you, sir! We are grateful sir.”
A young oak tree blanketed the Armadillo burrow. Mud squelched around Bumblediah’s boots as he surveyed the wreckage of branches and roots. A woody scent filled his nostrils. “Hmm you want me to move it?” he said.
“Indeed.”
Bumblediah hugged the bulging trunk and tugged. It did not budge. He tied a rope to it and threw it over an overhanging branch to create a pully. He heaved. Mr. and Mrs. Armadillo watched idly as the tree lifted a millimeter and fell with a thud.
“Sir, it’s not working.” Mr. Armadillo said.
“Indeed.” His wife repeated.
“Humph.” Bumblediah put his hands on his hips. This was going to take some time. He took out his hatchet and attacked the tree. When he finished, a pile of splitters, leaves, and acorns surrounded the burrow. Underneath the ceiling lay crumbled in. He scratched his beard. An idea dawned on him and he set to work.
When he finished Mr. and Mrs. Armadillo had a door with a latch, two windows with shutters, and a new roof. The day was well spent. They were delighted and went in and out multiple times just for fun. Bumblediah received their thanks and went home. On the way, he passed a rabbit nibbling grass.
The next morning, as the sun crept out of hiding, and Bumblediah had barely laid hold of his hammer, a rabbit hopped over with a hopeful expression.
“Budiah, err Bumbly, would you m-mind building a door for me?”
It turned out, he had spotted the Armadillo's burrow improvements and wanted some for his warren. His fifty-six cousins wanted some too.
Bumblediah felt flattered that his new creation was such a success. He went to and fro installing little doors and windows for all the rabbits within a mile of his stump.
Word spread among the animals. The next day the songbirds pleaded for birdhouses and several squirrels asked for storehouses. The Roadrunner requested a backpack and the deer declared they desired moss cushions. Last of all, the coyotes called late at night to demand jackets to wear.
Bumblediah couldn’t say no.
“What are you working on?” Chamomile fluttered down beside Bumblediah and squinted at the object he held. Acorn dropped to a bush beside her. Their delicate faces glowed orange in the setting sun.
“Hmm… it’s a jacket for the coyotes.” Bumblediah threaded a falcon feather into the collar. He had strung leaves with vines and lined the inside with moss and feathers.
Chamomile cocked her head. “Don’t they already have fur coats?”
“Oh, they wanted a change.” Bumblediah sighed and dropped the jacket. He lifted an unfinished birdhouse.
“Have you finished Raindrop’s cottage?” Chamomile asked.
“Hmm, Raindrop’s cottage…?” Bumblediah gulped. He’d finished the other fairy houses, but Raindrop’s cottage…? Had he forgotten?
Acorn looked up with a serious expression, “The wedding is the day after tomorrow.”
“Hmm, the day after tomorrow?” Bumblediah yanked at his beard. The ground beneath him seemed to tilt.
“Yep,” Chamomile said.
That night after the coyotes picked up their coats Bumblediah sat by his fireplace with a mug of blackberry tea and worried. Many animals were waiting on him for various items. But he had promised Raindrop and Mist a cottage when they got married. He always delivered when he promised. Had he bitten off more than he could chew? He determined he would build harder and faster than ever. He would complete everything on time.
Bumblediah was out of his stump before the break of dawn. He sucked in a breath of flower-scented air and smiled as he hammered shingles onto the cottage. It felt nice to work on a familiar project.
As the day grew warm a rabbit crept up to him. “Bumbley err Mr Bumble?”
“Hmm?” Bumblediah kept his eyes on the cottage.
“We h-have a problem.”
Bumblediah glanced up.
“It’s those doors.” The rabbit said, “ T-they don’t open quick enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“The c-c-coyotes and the owls. We try to escape, but the doors block the way.”
“Oh.” Bumblediah frowned.
The rabbit informed Bumblediah that he now had only thirty-eight cousins because of this and he MUST do something.
Bumblediah felt as if someone had socked him in the face. Never before had anyone complained about his work, much less died because of it. He looked down at the unfinished fairy cottage. It stood so delicate and trim on a patch of star moss. He thought about Raindrop and Mist. He thought about fifty-six cousins reduced to thirty-eight. “I’m coming. I’ll do what I can.”
But as he stood to go, Roadrunner trotted up, his head bobbing. “Excuse me. This backpack is too heavy. It slows me down. Bumblediah, would you PLEASE fix it?”
Bumblediah had barely received the offending backpack when a pair of deer skipped down the stope. “We would prefer a more perfect placement of our moss cushions,” One said.
Bumblediah’s beard drooped lower and lower with each proclamation. Complaints from the forest creatures started to pour in like rain.
Toads croaked and crickets chirped as Bumblediah reached his stump after a frustrating day of fruitless labor. He lit lanterns and prepped for a late night. How could things go so wrong so fast? He’d only wanted to help. But out of all the animals, only Mr. and Mrs. Armadillo were happy with him. On top of that, he barely had enough time to complete the fairy cottage. He might fail the fairies.
A howl disturbed the dark. From up the bank tawny shadows draped in green descended. Their teeth gleamed dangerously in the lantern light. Bumblediah dropped his hammer.
One spoke in a deep voice, “Greetings, we have come to submit a complaint. Your product has failed to live up to the standard of our expectations. We request you fix it or grant a refund.”
Bumblediah twisted his beard. Refund? As if they had paid him. But he knew better than to argue with coyotes at hunting hour. “Ohh, what’s the problem?”
The coyotes explained that the jackets caught on branches were noisy, uncomfortable, and had terrible craftsmanship.
Bumblediah inwardly groaned. But he told the coyote to crouch. He’d have rather avoided getting so close to its teeth. He could smell rabbit meat on its breath. He tried to remove it, but the jacket stuck under the coyote’s head. He reached for his knife.
“Is there a problem? This is terrible customer service.” The canine licked his lips.
Maybe the knife wasn’t such a good idea. Why hadn’t he made the jackets easier to remove? Next time he’d add buttons. Suppose there was a next time.
He took a firm grip, braced his feet, and heaved. The jacket tore and Bumblediah tumbled back. Crunch! Something gave beneath him. He rose triumphant, but let out a groan. He had fallen on top of Raindrop’s cottage. The walls lay crushed and the ceiling crumbled.
He, Bumblediah Nimbly, had ruined it. Something inside him snapped. Ignoring the complaints of the coyotes, Bumblediah stomped inside his stump and slammed the door.
Unbeknownst to Bumblediah, Mr. Bluebonnet witnessed the entire dismal scene as he happened to fly by. Mr. Bluebonnet sighed and fluttered home with a sad, thoughtful expression.
The next day Bumblediah remained in his stump with his door locked and his windows shuttered. The fairies had invited him to the wedding, but without a cottage, there would be no wedding.
He couldn’t look Raindrop or Mist in the face. He couldn’t endure more complaints from the animals. He was a failure. He couldn’t mend anything and everything he constructed ended in disaster. If he couldn’t be the perfect builder he was worthless.
All that afternoon and the next, animals knocked on Bumblediah’s door, but he didn’t answer. The house stood dark and quiet as a grave.
In the evening, long after the final knocking of the animals had died away, a tap sounded outside his stump. Bumblediah was getting ready for bed. He cocked his head.
Chamomile’s voice rang through. “Bumblediah, please open!”
He hesitated. Should he? But no, he couldn’t face Chamomile.
The sound ceased. Something scraped in his chimney. Then Chamomile tumbled into the fireplace with a puff of ash. She rose into the air sputtering and spreading dust all over his moss carpet and downy bed.
“Bumblediah… Achoo! You have got to come out.” Chamomile waved a dirty hand at him.
“I can’t.” Bumblediah sank into his armchair.
“What do you mean you can’t?” Chamomile fluttered to the door and hauled at the latch.
“I ruined your sister’s house. I ruined everything.” Bumblediah said.
Chamomile beat her wings as she wrestled with the latch. “You didn’t ruin everything.”
“Humph, ask the rabbits.” Bumblediah folded his arms. “Your sister didn’t get married did she?”
“Well… it was postponed, but you’re being ridiculous. Why don’t you apologize? Will you please open this door? I’ll leave if you do.” Chamomile settled on the latch, panting.
“Well, if you’ll leave me be…” He rose and cracked the door open. He froze.
A multitude of fairies surrounded his stump. Above them, illuminated by green and gold fairy lanterns hung words woven from vines and twigs that said: THANK YOU BUMBLEDIAH NIMBLY!
“Surprise!” The fairies shouted.
Chamomile zipped out the stump, laughing.
Bumblediah forgot to shut the door. Long fairy tables stood in the lantern glow, laden with roasted nuts, plump berries, honey acorn cookies, and steaming stews and teas. He didn’t know what to think or do. “Hmm… what… how… why?”
Mr. Bluebonnet flew up. “Bumblediah, we want to thank you for your help.”
“Oh, you can’t… I can’t...” Bumblediah looked at the ground and fumbled for words. “I delivered late. I ruined your cottage! I’m sorry.”
Raindrop rose from the crowd. “We did postpone our wedding, but…”
“But you helped everyone-including us,” Chamomile interrupted, “We love you the same even if you make silly mistakes. It’s a bit arrogant to think you can always deliver on time; isn’t it?”
“Ahem!” Mr. Bluebonnet shot her a warning glance.
Raindrop grimaced. “I forgive you, and I want to thank you. We- I understand you had to help everyone else.”
Mrs. Bluebonnet fluttered over her baby on her shoulder as usual. She cradled a mug of blackberry tea in her arms. “We saw what happened and decided you needed cheering up. We wanted to help you.”
Mrs. Bluebonnet looked so tender as she held out the mug (no small feat for a fairy of her size) that Bumblediah felt something inside him soften. Help him? He lifted the mug and sipped. As the sweet, tangy tea sank into his throat he felt his heart grow warm. Had he been arrogant? Did he need help? The thought had never occurred to him. A lump formed in his throat. “I suppose…” He lowered the tea. “Hmm… I suppose you’re right. Thank you.”
A cheer rang out and the feast began.
As Bumblediah munched chewy cookies, slurped stew, and nibbled nuts a lightness spread through him that he had not felt in many days. He only wished he could mend Mist and Raindrop’s fairy cottage now. He racked his brain. All of a sudden an idea struck him.
He dropped his cookie and stood. “I have an idea!”
The fairies stared quizzically at him.
“What?” Chamomile asked.
Bumblediah looked at Mist and Raindrop. “I know how you can get married now and have a house.”
They glanced at each other, confused.
Bumblediah left and returned carrying a large green birdhouse. “Would this do?”
The fairy couple flew up and inspected it.
“You know…”-Raindrop said slowly-“I think it would.”
“I like it very much,” Mist said.
It was decided. The fairies rearranged the tables. An old grandfather fairy arose and Mist and Raindrop were married right there and then. The party turned into a wedding.
With the help of the fairies Bumblediah set up the birdhouse and Mist and Raindrop moved in. Chamomile, Acorn, and all the rest of the children found it hilarious to think of fairies living in a birdhouse. It was late before anyone got to bed, but no one minded.
Bumblediah always remembered that night.
Epilogue
Bumblediah constructed a workshop to shelter his future projects from disastrous encounters. He even allowed the fairies to help.
He removed everything the animals didn’t like (the coyotes graciously did not eat him). A few decided to keep their new objects. The Armadillos even agreed to dig new homes for the rabbits in exchange for their old burrows with doors (much to Bumblediah’s relief). But overall, the forest creatures seemed better off without his inventions.
Bumblediah started a new cottage for Mist and Raindrop, but they enjoyed the birdhouse so much that they decided to keep it. From then on fairies asked for birdhouse homes. It turned out they could withstand storms better.
Bumblediah still loved to build, but he loved the fairies even more. And ever after, he knew he could always count on them for help.
*pictures drawn by Faith and Mary, my little sisters. : )