Wolfie’s Garden Rules

Wolfie lives on a little urban farm with his Mama and Dada, right next door to his Mimi and Bapa. There are four chickens in his world, his wonderful dogs Malcolm and Sanji, and a whole bunch of cats. He often wears paint-splotch pants, a T-shirt, and his favorite muck boots. And since Wolfie loves bubbles, there are almost always bubbles sparkling and drifting among the fruit trees.

In Wolfie’s world, good things grow close to the ground and high above his head. Apples hang in the branches, pears grow golden in the sun, cherries shine like little jewels, and blackberries hide in brambly corners waiting to be found. Mint and chives and soft green herbs brush against his hands when he walks through the garden. There is always something to smell, something to notice, something to taste.

Wolfie loves the garden. He loves to pick and nibble and carry treasures home in his small hands. He knows the bright smell of mint, the snap of a chive, and the delight of finding something ripe among leaves and vines. To Wolfie, the garden feels full of wonders, and he is certain it was made for exploring.

But Mimi knows something important about gardens.

A garden is generous, but it is not for grabbing.

A garden is full of beautiful things, but not every beautiful thing is ready to be picked. Not every leaf is for eating. Not every berry is safe. Even in a garden full of goodness, we must pay attention to what we touch, what we choose, and what we put into our mouths.

So in Mimi’s garden, there is a rule.

Before Wolfie picks, before he tastes, before he pops anything into his mouth, he asks.

Because in a garden, we do not just take.

We notice.We learn.We listen.We make sure.

One day, while bubbles drifted through the fruit trees and the chickens scratched happily in the yard, Wolfie reached for a leaf.

Mimi saw him and said, very gently, “Not that one, my love.”

Wolfie stopped.

He looked at the leaf. Then he looked at Mimi.

“Why?” he asked.

Mimi knelt beside him in the warm green smell of the garden.

“Because,” she said, “some things are for smelling, some things are for touching, some things are for growing, and some things are for eating. And before we eat anything, we need to know exactly what it is.”

Wolfie listened.

He looked more carefully then. The leaf was green, yes, soft, yes, pretty, yes, but not a plant for eating. It was a bellflower, gentle and harmless, but not something to nibble. Later on in the season, when its little flowers opened, it would be lovely to pick for a small vase for his mama. Dandelions are always fun and bright. Wolfie loved hearing Mimi’s stories about how dandelions were the first food for the bees every year and that they helped make honey, one of his favorite foods!

Wolfie began to look at the garden in a whole new way then.

Not as something to pop into his mouth, but as something with its own right time and purpose.

So Mimi showed him the mint. She let him rub a leaf between his fingers and smell its bright, sweet scent. She showed him the chives, tall and green. She pointed to the blackberries he was allowed to pick when they were dark and ripe and the lovely ripe strawberries, and together they looked at the other plants too, the ones that were only for growing, only for bees, only for beauty.

Wolfie began to understand.

The garden was not saying no and neither was Mimi.

They were both teaching him how to know.

So from then on, Wolfie asked.

He asked before picking.

He asked before tasting.

He asked before chewing.

And little by little, he learned the names of what grew around him, and what was ready, and what was not.

That is one way a child grows wise.

Not by being afraid of the world, but by learning how to meet it with care.

And after the lesson was over, Wolfie picked what Mimi said was safe. He asked before touching the strawberries, and Mimi smiled and told him their name. Then he tasted one beneath the fruit trees while bubbles drifted in the air and the moon rose softly over the little farm.

The chickens scratched.

Malcolm and Sanji rested nearby.

A cat curled itself into the grass.

And Wolfie, in his paint-splotch pants and favorite muck boots, tasted what Mimi had said was safe.

Then he smiled the smile of a boy learning his world by heart.