Lark’s Handmade Star — In the hush after snowfall, Lark pressed a bare twig star between her paws and frowned at its wobbly corners. Read the full story →
In the hush after snowfall, Lark pressed a bare twig star between her paws and frowned at its wobbly corners. She wanted a bright topper for the little fir by her doorway, but the wind had carried away every bit of ribbon from her nest shelf.
So she stepped out from her cozy pine nook, into snow that squeaked like clean glass. At the edge of the fir yard, she traded her last sweet hazelnut to a sleepy crow for one bent pin and a strip of silver paper. Then her paw bumped an old mitten frozen under the log pile. Inside, where nobody had thought to look, lay red thread, two blue beads, and a tiny bell that smelled faintly of peppermint. “I can make it,” Lark whispered.
Back home, she wrapped, tied, poked, and jingled until the twig star held together in her own crooked way. It shone because her paws had made it. Next time you spot the star above the little fir, see if you can find the wobbly corner Lark pressed in the hush after snowfall.
