A great race is upon the children of the meadow and the flowers, they are a-frightened…

Every year in June, not July or August, the children of Moonwater Meadow (by children I mean a small round spider, a tall twitchy rabbit,  a super-heroic field mouse, a cuddly koala and a pair of bear brothers) gather in the Great Field for a Great Race of Great Lawnmowers.  This is not a contest of grass-cutting proficiency mind you.  This is a test of ingenuity, speed and skill.

The lawnmowers were salvaged from Moonwater Scrap, Junk and Tacos  over on the industrial side of town.  They were refurbished, reimagined and repainted by Ollie and his pals into colorful racing mowers.

Now, I know what you’re thinking but the mowers have no blades and they don’t go all that fast.

The flowers don’t know this, so they go running from the fields anyway because that’s what flowers do.

On the subject of the flowers:  they’re a proud bunch who consider The Meadow their territory.  They just let the Adventure Cadets play there from time to time.  When The Great Annual Lawnmower Race takes place every June, not July or August, the flowers get nervous.  Ollie and friends come tearing out of the racing paddock (which is neither a pad nor a dock), rip around Bartholomew’s Bend, named after Bartholomew Bunny whom you will meet in another story, and head straight through the tall green grass the flowers call home.

This is where The Annual Running Of The Flowers comes into play.  The flowers uproot themselves and go running (and sometimes screaming) for the high ground until the race is over.  They are never amused nor do they participate in the post-race partying.  This is the annual tradition.

This year, the flowers had a plan….

The Meadow Adventure Cadets arrived at the racing paddock (which you remember is neither a pad nor a dock) early on race day to find the space completely empty except for a few pizza boxes and taco wrappers.

And one frog, Pete or Pierre as he likes to be called.

From around Bartholomew’s Bend (named for a bunny you’ll meet in another, oh, well you remember) there came a rumblin’ and a whoopin’.  Ollie and his pals went to the race track to investigate and couldn’t believe all their eyes.

The flowers had stolen the mowers and were having their own race.    They were tearing around the track with lively abandon.  Dirt was flying, mowers were tipping, swerving and generally banging into each other to the shock and dismay of the actual racers.

Ticklebit wanted to do something but was too busy wringing his ears.  Artemouse, being a mouse of action wanted to get into her superhero costume and stop the race.  The Bearly Brothers started taking bets.  Spoon, the cuddly koala wanted a nap.  Ollie thought of all their hard work being dashed by a bunch of renegade garden dwellers.

And then things got worse…

After a few laps, the crafty and clever flowers took notice of the five wide eyed spectators.  They made  for the exit and rerouted the course into the path of our Adventure Cadets.  Like a fleet of bowling balls headed for a stack of confused pins, the flowers descended upon Ollie and company as they scattered all across the meadow.  There was a bunch of whooping from the flowers and a bunch of screaming from the Cadets as they were chased from one end of Moonwater Meadow to the other.

By the end of the day the Adventure Cadets were exhausted, the lawnmower racers were in a pile of smoking heaps and the flowers were thoroughly satisfied with themselves.

This particular race would come to be known as the Great Flower Mower Race And The Running Of The Adventure Cadets who had a lot of work and pizza cut out for them in repairing the mess (and re-seeding the fields).

No winner was declared as no one bothered to cross the finish line.

 

Tom Serafini is a writer, illustrator and sometime stand-up comedian residing in Brooklyn, New York  (until California let’s him stay).  His first illustrated picture book, Ollie Bug and the Icky Sticky Thing From Space, will be funded through a Kicktarter crowdfunding campaign coming this summer.

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