The Cafe's in the orchard. If there is one thing for certain, it's this: with help they will pitch this cafe with ease, without it they will labor." Raven observed as the two old dears carried poles and stacks of tent from the turquoise truck, the truck they name Bernadette. Raven was quiet in his noticing, but the tree was listening.
"Is one better than the other? I mean if they have help to raise the cafe it will ease their effort. Without it they labor, but that is not bad either." The Ancient Fir was always curious about humans at their work.
The hens were curious too, but don't make much commentary about things they know nothing about and continued with their business.
"It was the old woman's idea and the old man's labor that led to the Cafe being positioned in the orchard. The large canopy tent is a gift from their friend who is packing up his truck and his happy heart to journey south to California where it's warm all the time. The old woman thinks it will be fun to have the tent/cafe nearby as she plays with the magic." The Ancient Fir is within earshot of all the conversations and is expert at hearing the magic that rides the border between words and belly intelligence.
"She prayed those song words she sings to ask for permission when they'd finished raising the tent. She's consistent in asking." The tree was swaying remembering the old woman's chanting.
Raven watched as the woman went about the orchard pushing on the small button capturing images in the black box. He appreciated that about the woman, she chronicled. Ravens have exceptional memory rather like the human's digital black box, but legions more expansive. "I like that she is looking at the tent through the limb of the Gravenstein. It's a view the apple will see after all; and the hens will see the Cafe whether they comment about it or not."
"There is room for magic in that orchard, and it gives the old ones another shelter to play in when the rain makes it inconvenient. Perhaps this tent will draw the help they need when sharing the labor is what's needed. Perhaps the season of long nights and dreaming will send them stories worth telling. And, who knows with our meddling this winter could be just the one to continue common magic." Raven liked that idea. Flying from The Ancient Fir's dancing limb the black-feathered bird let out with a chant of his own. The Old Man and The Old Woman took it as a blessing. They were glad.