Four: Continued.

After I recovered from my Pipton-induced shock, the rest of the afternoon was lovely. Calvin, as Pipton was (had been?), was one of the hermits who resided at the Headquarters year-round, so his residence was especially well-habitated. And large.

As the gardens and vegetable patches that Calvin oversaw were sprawled and tangled in the forest, so was Calvin’s tree-house sprawled throughout the tree-tops. There were no less than fifteen rooms and all of them were connected by an impressive network of rope-bridges and ladders. And Calvin had many, many animal friends, including a small, gray monkey, a pair of Colugos, and a very friendly squirrel named Myrtle.

Myrtle was my favorite of his ‘pets’ (which is not to be repeated, especially to the Colugos who would surely take offence) because in addition to having an excellent disposition, she also had a fantastic sense of humor. She followed us all the day long as Calvin gave us the tour of the gardens, the dairy farm and his tree-house, and since she was so agile in the trees and quick on her feet, she could easily disappear as she pleased, only to pop up in the least expected places, often hanging upside-down, or sneaking down upon Calvin’s head while he was talking, without his having any idea about it, and lip-synching along to whatever he was saying. And in case you’ve never seen a squirrel lip-synch, let me just tell you that it’s funny.

Not to mention the fact that Calvin, even amongst friends, is a very shy person. Speaking on subjects with which he was familiar was trying enough for him, but any unrelated conversation would leave him stammering, with down-turned eyes and adorably flushed cheeks, like an embarrassed child giving a grade-school presentation.

And with a lip-synching squirrel on his head! It was all we could do to maintain straight faces, lest we cast him into a state of irreversible mortification.

The tour itself was magnificent! You’ve never seen such well-kept gardens or such a dedicated gardener. Clever Calvin! He made helpers of the local rabbits: and rabbits--believe it or not--are the best gardeners you could ever enlist. He explained how initially they had pillaged the gardens until he coaxed them into working for him and, in return for minimal work, they were rewarded with more fresh produce than any rabbit, or army of rabbits, could ever hope to steal--not to mention the daily gratification of a job well done.

The dairy farm was little more than a community of goats, cows, and sheep who stayed about because they were happy: they were free to wander about the forest at leisure, bathe in any of several forest pools, graze upon and roll around in, lush, green meadows, but still enjoy the protection and gratitude of the hermits. For the organization and maintenance of the ‘dairy farm’, Calvin had two apprentices of sorts: a pair of autistic twin brothers who had been abandoned at the edge of the forest as babies, recovered by the hermits, and who were ‘savants’ when it came to animal communication. Approximately twenty or so years of age, they tended to the animals with more care then most people give their children. In terms of themselves, they were the happiest two boys you’ve never seen. Acting as more of one mind than two, they went about in the relative solitude of a world that included but the animals, Calvin, and themselves (natural hermits, you see).

As the sun set, we helped Calvin prepare a delicious dinner: layered vegetable napoleon with spinach, tomato, and carrot salad, red wine and oven-fresh bread. We ate it on Calvin’s dinner deck (except for Pipton who had apparently lost his appetite along with his, umm, real body) and discussed the intricacies of raising healthy aubergines, the many varieties of tomatoes (of which Calvin knew every one!), the unbelievable prolificacy of zucchini patches, and the easy solution to ending world hunger.

After dinner, we said our thank-yous and good-byes and made plans for a morning lake-swim later in the week. Then, with Pipton by my side, I weaved my way home through the dark, friendly trees and arrived to find Willoughby curled at the end of my bed, and another invitation, sat on my desk.

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