The Scarecrow’s Secret Button — Before the moon slid over the far barn, a crooked stake stood alone in the harvest field, and Hollis clutched a wooden button under his patched shirt. Read the full story →
Before the moon slid over the far barn, a crooked stake stood alone in the harvest field, and Hollis clutched a wooden button under his patched shirt. He had been told to keep it safe until he found his post, but every row seemed to mutter, “Not here,” in dry corn whispers. The pumpkins smelled of earth and spice, the vines tugged at his boots, and his straw arms rattled in the chilly wind.
Then the smallest pumpkin rolled close and tapped the stake. “Listen,” it said. Under the soil came a soft thump-thump, like a hidden drum. Hollis pressed the button into the ground at the stake’s foot. The field sighed. His arms lifted wide without anyone tying them there, his smile stitched itself into place, and every vine curled toward him as if it had known him forever.
So here is the secret: scarecrows do not stand in fields because farmers put them there. They stand where the field’s wooden heart chooses them, and ever since Hollis, pumpkin patches keep one smiling guard with arms wide enough for all their rows. If you ever spot a button-shaped bump near a scarecrow’s stake, you’ll know why that crooked post never feels alone before the moon slides over the far barn.
