Orin Counts the Quiet — From the tallest row of the sunflower fields, Orin could hear almost everything: bees ticking in the seed heads, dry leaves rasping together, and the farm bell beyond the hill. Read the full story →
From the tallest row of the sunflower fields, Orin could hear almost everything: bees ticking in the seed heads, dry leaves rasping together, and the farm bell beyond the hill. He set himself a challenge before noon—count all seven echoes of that bell without missing one. The first three were easy. The fourth slipped behind the rustle of a mouse. To catch the rest, Orin leaned farther than he ever had, out over the dusty road, until one yellow petal loosened and twirled away.
The petal landed beside a narrow ditch where the road bent. There, under the smell of warm dirt, something answered the bell: plink… plink… plink. Not an echo. Water. Orin waited through the fifth, sixth, and seventh rings, listening harder than counting. By evening, the little ditch carried a silver thread into the thirsty rows, and every sunflower turned, slowly, toward its hush. Next time you follow the winding road between the flowers, see if you can find where Orin’s petal first heard the quiet.
