Her mother smiled. “That’s the smell of things waking up.”
“I’m the Keeper of the Thaw,” the woman said, not unkindly. “You’re early, little one. Most children don’t find this place until they’ve grown a bit.” seasons in spring
The Keeper smiled and handed her a single acorn. “Count the flowers on your way home. Every one you see is a promise kept. And when you get back, plant this somewhere it can see the morning sun.” Her mother smiled
“Can I help?” Primrose asked.
The woman laughed—a sound like rain on a tin roof. “The balance. I remind the sun to stay a little longer each day. I tell the bulbs when it’s safe to push up through the soil. And I count the promises.” Most children don’t find this place until they’ve
Primrose wasn’t afraid. “What do you keep?”
Primrose walked back slowly, counting. She counted forty-seven crocuses, twelve daffodils, and one dandelion already brave enough to be yellow. She planted the acorn by the old oak in the town square.
