A Place to Hang the Moon

by Kate Albus

England’s rain, infamous though it may be, begets the most extraordinary array of greens. The yellow greens of new grass met the purple greens of heather, and these tumbled toward the emerald hills beyond.

Now, you may think that socks are a dreadfully dull gift. Perhaps, in times of abundance, you would have a fair point. To Edmund, Anna, and William, however, socks were evidence that Mrs. Müller had been thinking of them for quite a long time indeed. Hand-knitted socks don’t materialize overnight, after all, no matter the magic.

In his secret heart, however, he found the unfamiliar kindness rather delightful.