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Spring had finally come to the regions surrounding Moominvalley. Winter clouds dissipated and soon the skies were blue once more. Pink apple blossoms unfurled themselves and attracted bees to the tree where the Joxter resided. The grizzled wanderer was enjoying the dappled sunshine and rested between the branches of the gnarled tree, his hat hanging from a nearby tree branch. He enjoyed immersing himself in the constant thrum of the bees. Soon there would be honey. And then after that apples. In the fall he could eat apples with honey. It was one of the few luxuries that he allowed himself. In the meantime it was much easier to sleep than wait for food to come. He was not aware of the fact that he was snoring louder than the bees could hum. He was having a quite a pleasant dream when something poked his rear end.
The Joxter batted a lazy paw and turned his head to rest on the other side of the branch.
The thing poked him in the rear again. "Mrm, go away," he managed to grumble.
There was another poke, but before the Joxter could react, a sweet sounding, “Yoo-hoo!” caused the Joxter’s head to immediately jerk up. He stared down at the curvaceous figure in the violet dress standing below his branch.
The Mymble waved at him with a gloved hand. She held a closed lavender parasol in the other- clearly the source of the poking.
The Joxter only smiled. “My my my, Mymble!” he purred, “What are you doing here?”
“Hello dear! We’re going to Moominvalley to call on some family!”
“Well have a good time,” he said, returning to his comfortable position on the branch.
“Dear, what are you doing?” she giggled.
“Taking a nap, what does it look like?”
“Didn’t you hear me? I said we’re going to call on some family in Moominvalley.”
“And I said, ‘have a good time!’ “
“Come on and get down silly, we’re going to Moominvalley.” He gave her with an astonished look.
“You mean you and me? Go to Moominvalley?”
“Yes dear,” she said absently adjusting her gloves.
“Just you and me huh?,” he said eagerly, “No Hoard?”
“No, no, the children are coming as well,” she said, ignoring the nickname he chose to stick to her lot of children. To make her point she gestured to the side of the nearby road, where the large group of children were either chasing each other or picking dandelions to make flower crowns.
“Hmpf! What relatives do we have in Moominvalley?!”
“Why Mymble and Little My of course!”
“Oh, uh right, the uh- them.” It was clear that the Joxter did not quite remember who the Mymble was referring to, “Red hair right?”
“Honestly, love!”
“Well, I can’t be expected to keep track of all of them can I?”
“Snufkin should be there too. I’ve heard from gossip that he’s in the Valley, back from his winter wanderings I should guess.”
“Snufkin, huh? Well he’s alright. Maybe it’d be good to see that goober again.”
“That’s the spirit dear.”
“Well then. When are you going?” The Joxter asked, leaning back into the branches.
“Now, dear. Put your hat on.”
The Joxter nearly jumped of the tree. “Good lord, woman! Can’t you inform me sooner!”
“If I gave you any time you’d only use it to find an excuse! Now get down from there! It’s time for us to go!”
The Joxter grumbled and slipped down from the apple tree. “I'm not one to usually one to ask this, but I'd like to know what’s in this for me?” he huffed, placing his hat on his head.
“What more do you want, you’ll be able to see your son!”
“Yeah but I could see that nerd any time if I wanted-“ his voice was stopped when he felt a warm breath near his face, followed by a kiss on his cheek.
“Don’t think you won’t be properly rewarded,” she murmured in a husky voice.
As the Joxter’s face began to match the colors of the apple blossoms, the Mymble turned to conduct her train of children, “Alright everyone! Let’s go! Marcel put that stick down! Margot don’t wander off and stay with us. Mabel, you’re going to have to bite your brother harder than that if you want to win! Come along now, we’re going to Moominvalley!”
The Joxter ran up to where she stood at the head of the group and took her hand.
“I’m glad to see you’ll be joining us Mr. Joxter,” she chirped.
“As if I wouldn’t come,” The Mymble laughed heartily at his remark until he pressed an arm into her side and beckoned for her to lean down so he could whisper in her ear.
“I can come over and over and over again if you want.”
“Later dear,” she chuckled in a low voice.