Why September Shares Acorns — Between the hush-hush leaves of the tallest oak, Tessa set herself a private challenge: find one acorn so fine that even the grumpy hollow in the trunk would stop groaning. Read the full story →
Between the hush-hush leaves of the tallest oak, Tessa set herself a private challenge: find one acorn so fine that even the grumpy hollow in the trunk would stop groaning. She sniffed each cap for the right dry, nutty smell and tapped each shell with her claw. Tok, tok, too tiny. Tik, tik, too cracked. Then she found it, round as a little moon, with a cap patterned like a basket.
The wind curled around her whiskers. “Keep it,” whispered a blue jay, who loved secrets when they were not his. Tessa hugged the acorn tighter. But below, two field mice shivered under an oak leaf, and above, the old tree creaked like a door wanting to open. Tessa’s joy got too large for her paws. “Here,” she called, and rolled the perfect acorn down the branch.
It bumped one acorn, then another, then another—clack, clatter, patter—until the whole oak began dropping supper into the grass. The hollow stopped groaning and made a cozy drum sound instead. Ever since, when September winds twirl through oak branches, squirrels do not hide every acorn at once; they let a few fall first, sharing the joy that grew too large for Tessa’s paws. Next time you spot acorns under an oak, listen for that tiny clack-clatter secret.
