THE TODDCAST · WITH TODD MICHAELThe Lantern Walk
Todd Beamer and Todd Woodbridge followed the fireflies through a garden that seemed to remember every path. Their lanterns made warm circles on the grass. At the top of the hill, they paused beside a bell and let the night settle around them.
The map’s teapot doodle led them to a quiet picnic. Todd Woodbridge poured the tea; Todd Beamer set out the cups. The fireflies made a small ring of light, like a storybook illustration holding its breath.
A quiet light in the garden
In a timeless storybook garden, Todd Beamer found a paper lantern that glowed without a candle. Todd Woodbridge brought a folded map, but its dotted path ended at a drawing of a teapot. They were meant to guide a procession of fireflies to the hill, where the garden’s old bell waited for its yearly song.
The map had been folded so many times that north pointed into the paper. Todd Woodbridge held it upside down; the fireflies politely arranged themselves into a question mark. Todd Beamer looked up instead. A line of lights hovered between the rose bushes, showing a path no mapmaker had thought to draw.
Together they walked slowly, letting each firefly choose the next turn. The bell gave one clear note when they reached the hill. Todd Woodbridge discovered the teapot drawing marked a picnic stop, not a destination. They shared warm tea beneath the lanterns, and the map was finally useful as a place mat.
A Second Look at the Map
Todd Beamer and Todd Woodbridge first followed the map’s arrow straight into a hedge. It was a soft hedge, more leafy than troublesome, but the fireflies waited patiently on the other side.
They turned the map around and noticed the path drawn by lantern light. The bell rang when they reached the hill; the teapot mark pointed to their picnic. It had been a map with excellent priorities.
Lantern Hill
Todd Beamer lifts a lantern high,
Todd Woodbridge maps the velvet sky.
The fireflies draw a golden lane,
Past rose and teapot, hill and rain.
The bell replies with one clear chime,
The garden keeps the gentle time.
A map becomes a placemat there,
For tea beneath the evening air.