A rolling acorn sends Hattie and Sunny on a little woodland adventure—and helps them notice something they nearly missed.
Hattie Hops had found the finest acorn in Fernwood. It was round and shiny, with a cap that sat crookedly on top, like a tiny hat.
“This one belongs in the middle,” she said. She was arranging leaves and acorns around a little sign that read WELCOME, FRIENDS.
Sunny Fernwing settled beside her. “The middle of what?”
“My autumn table. Every leaf has a place. Every acorn has a place. And this acorn—”
Plink!
The acorn slipped from Hattie’s paw, bounced off a root, and rolled down the path.
“—has apparently made other plans!”
Hattie hopped after it. Sunny followed above the ferns. The acorn rolled beneath a mushroom, around a stone, and straight into a heap of fallen leaves.
Hattie stopped. She lifted one leaf. Then another. Then a third.
“Here?” asked Sunny.
“That’s a pebble.”
“Here?”
“That’s somebody’s very small stick.”
A breeze rustled through the heap. Hattie caught a red leaf before it blew away. Its edges curled inward like the sides of a boat.
“Oh,” she said. “Look at this.”
Inside the leaf lay three drops of rain. The morning sky shone in each one.
Sunny leaned closer. “Three little skies.”
Hattie set the leaf gently beside the path. Underneath it was a yellow leaf with a hole shaped almost like a heart. Beneath that lay a twig with five tiny bends.
“A staircase for an ant,” Hattie said.
“A very fancy staircase,” Sunny agreed.
They inspected a striped stone, a feather caught against a root, and a patch of moss softer than Hattie’s best cushion. For a little while, neither remembered the acorn.
Then Sunny pointed. “Your runaway!”
There it was, tucked against the moss. Its crooked cap had fallen off.
Hattie picked up both pieces. She tried putting the cap back on. It tipped sideways again.
“Still the finest acorn?” asked Sunny.
Hattie smiled. “Certainly the busiest.”
Back at the table, Hattie moved the welcome sign. She made space for the striped stone and the heart-shaped leaf. The little twig rested across two acorns like a bridge.
“Your table looks different,” Sunny said.
“It does.” Hattie placed the runaway acorn beside the sign, crooked cap and all. “I thought I knew exactly what belonged here.”
Sunny looked at the new treasures. “And now?”
Hattie pulled up another seat. “Now there’s room for surprises.”
The breeze stirred the welcome sign. This time, Hattie let the leaves shuffle a little.
After the story
What small thing would you put on Hattie’s autumn table? Draw it and tell someone where you would place it. You can imagine a treasure without picking anything outdoors.
Stories by Marchelle Cook · Hattie Hops Studio.
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