That winter lasted longer than any in memory.
But no one in Ashaow Valley starved.
And when spring finally melted the last snow from the mountains, the people in town spoke of Martha Wickfield very differently.
They no longer called her strange.
They called her something else.
The woman who saved the valley.
And every summer after that, when the sun warmed the hills and apples glistened on Martha’s roof like gold, no one laughed anymore.
Instead, they quietly began drying their own.
Leave a Comment