Micia’s adventures in the vegetable garden, the hayloft and the farmhouse attic.

• 18 October 2026 #2 A Home for the Pencil The morning after putting the springtime box away, Micia returned to the kitchen with a decision: the pencil needed a place of its own too. She found it on the table beside the scraps they had used for labels. She began drawing a sunflower, then turned to greet Franci, the mother hen who had just come in from the courtyard. The pencil rolled towards the edge. Pucci stopped it with a paw, without picking it up in his mouth. “This one doesn’t know how to stay still.” Micia placed it on the sewing-box lid. As soon as Grandma opened the box, she had to move it again. “It would always be travelling here,” Franci observed. They tried an empty jar. The pencil almost disappeared inside: Micia could barely reach it. From her little stool, Chia looked at the tall glass. “We need somewhere it can come out easily too.” Grandma found a blue-and-white cup she no longer used. It was low enough: the pencil stood upright with plenty showing above the rim. Micia put it in and took it out. Once, then again. “This is just the right size!” Franci suggested keeping it near their drawing spot. Pucci checked that the cup wasn’t on the edge of the table. Chia pointed to an unused paper scrap. Micia drew a little orange pencil on it and attached it to the cup as a label. When everything was ready, she picked up her sunflower drawing and finished it. Then she returned the pencil to its new home. Franci smiled. “And tomorrow you’ll know where to look.” Pucci gazed at the cup, pleased. “As long as nobody offers it a walk.” Micia laughed. The seeds were resting on the shelf; at last, the pencil was resting on the table too. Read the tale →

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