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I nod hello and wish I hadn’t committed to so much extra farm work, only there’s no way I’ll verbalise that to Luke. Not while I still feel like I’m on a bench, waiting to get selected.
This is still a trial. Still temporary. He said we’d talk again after the half-term break. That weeklong school vacation is rushing up already, and the weeks I’ve already spent here with my harvest workload as a stark contrast means I can see that staying would be a more sustainable option.
I don’t need to use my chainsaw every day here, or steer heavy machinery that I still feel rumble long after I switch off the engine. My hands could be proof of that. They are rock steady as I tell Luke, “I don’t mind sharing space with them. I’ve learned a lot about art this week from Rae.”
I learn even more when Rae notices the leaves that Hadi has found and uses them as a prompt for another art lesson. He kneels down to ask my group of little kids a question.
“Did you know there’s a famous artist who used to do farm work just like Mr. Novac does in addition to running your nature sessions?”
That leads to lots of questions. Asa’s are all speed related. I grin as he zooms in a circle, and I agree. “Yes, I do get to go on quad bikes sometimes. And tractors.”
Little Maisie Dymond’s questions are more practical. She leans on a handrail and asks, “How can you work in two places at the same time?”
“I don’t. I do farm work in the evenings and on the weekends.”
I don’t have an answer for her next question.
“But when do you play?”
Noah fields that for me. His voice has deepened in the last month. “When harvest is over.” He rubs his chest. “I’ll be more help with that next year.”
Luke says, “I bet your family will be glad of an extra pair of hands, Noah.”
Farmingisa family business. Marc and Stefan won’t need so much help from me once Noah is fully recovered.
That’s a good thing. I still dig the toe of a boot into leaf matter, kicking that worry away, and I change the subject gruffly. “What’s so special about this artist?”
Rae swings his attention to me. “The way he took what he saw while farming and turned it into art is pretty special. He made beautiful things out of wood. Out of leaves. From natural resources.”
“Like you do!” Maisie shouts. “You’re good with wood, Mr. Novac!”
Rae has crouched. I can’t see his mouth over the heads of little children. I can still tell he’s smiling. Those lively eyes meet mine and skip away just as quickly. “Yes. He is very good with wood. So is this artist. He makes amazing pictures out of everything you have here.” He looks my way, perhaps asking permission to hijack this session. I nod before deferring to Luke, but that’s okay—he nods too, so Rae goes for it. “Want to see?”
He’s come prepared with printed examples of those outdoor art projects, and he asks the little ones, “See how he uses everything that you’ve already found? Great big leaves as well as little ones. Twigs and stones too, see? Look at how he’s grouped all the same colours together.” He looks around, getting up to grab something from the clearing floor and coming back with a selection. “Like all of these…”
“Sycamore leaves?” Maisie offers.
“Perfect.” He hands one to her that the autumn has painted scarlet. He skips Hadi to next show a yellowing leaf to Asa, who stops wriggling for long enough to name and claim it.
“Oak!”
“And this last one?” Rae asks no one in particular.
“That’s from the willow tree!” Hadi shouts, which is a first from a child who is so often silent.
“He’s a sponge,” Luke says quietly. “The right task squeezes out all the English he’s soaked up. He just needs time to put his words in order. Leaving him until last and asking an open question like that was perfect. A low-pressure way to give him a chance to join in. Very neatly done.”
Rae is oblivious to this praise. He kneels again and taps his lips as if he’s thinking. “I wonder if you could put everything you’ve found into colour order like my artist did? Can you group all the shades of red, like pink, crimson, and scarlet?” He issues another challenge. “And then can you help each other to put them into size order from the smallest leaf to the biggest?”
He extends a fist towards the biggest student.
Teo bumps his own fist against it as Luke murmurs, “Sorting and grouping. Mathematical categories and vocabulary extension. Nice.”
While the little kids hustle to collect leaves, Rae asks the older students a different question. “Let’s talk about the art we grew up seeing, yeah?”
“Art?” Noah snorts. “More like graffiti, sir. Tags, like the ones spray-painted on the walls of the art building.”
“We did that last year,” Teo adds. This is quieter. “It was a good day. First time I could see myself staying instead of running, innit.”
