“Gram! Wake up!” Hannah kissed her grandma on the cheek and shook her gently.

“What is it, dear?” Gram sat up. “Why are you bundled up in your coat and boots, child?”

“Tonight’s the night!”

“What night is that?”

“You know. You tell me the story every year. One night each fall, the harvest moon has a different name...the Scarecrow Moon. Something wonderful happens!” Hannah glanced out the window at the fat, pearly-white full moon glowing in the sky.” I think this is that night, I can feel it. I want to see what happens for myself!”

“Yes, child,” Gram said, “this is the night of the Scarecrow Moon. I can feel it too.” She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “Hannah, my sweet, I don’t know if I can do this.”

“It’s Gramps, isn’t it,” Hannah said. “You miss him.”

“Very much. We spent the past fifty Scarecrow Moons together,” Gram sighed.

Hannah took Gram’s two hands in her own and said, “I think it would be okay with Gramps if you took me. Whenever he talked about the Scarecrow Moon, his eyes shined so brightly.”

Gram stood up. “Perhaps you’re right, child. He did love this night.” Gram dressed slowly. She buttoned a heavy coat up to her neck. Gram stopped at the door, closed her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asked. “We don’t have to go. Maybe next year—”

“No, it’s not that. Wait a moment.” Gram crossed to the old wardrobe in the corner and rummaged through a drawer. “Ah, here it is,” she said. She wrapped a faded wool scarf around Hannah’s neck. “This was your grandfather’s favorite scarf. Now a little part of him can go with us.”

They went out into the dark. Night stretched across the sky like a black cat. Stars glistened like drops of water on night’s whiskers. The wind scratched the treetops behind their ears, and night purred in the voice of crickets and owls. They made their way along the edge of the cornfield in the bright moonlight. Hannah sniffed loudly and asked, “Gram, what’s that wonderful smell?”

“That’s autumn, child. Fire and smoke, dry leaves and wet black dirt, tractor belch and wagonwheel grease, pumpkin pie and apple butter.”

Gram stopped her with a soft hand on the shoulder. They crouched down behind the hay wagon. Their scarecrow hung from a wooden pole just ahead. The scarecrow’s button eyes blinked open. The crudely stitched mouth curved into a crooked smile. Hannah laughed out loud, then clapped both hands over her mouth. The scarecrow’s chest heaved with a sharp intake of breath. Gangly scarecrow arms reached back and fumbled at rusty nails. Free at last, the scarecrow dropped lightly to the ground and set off down the road.

“Don’t let him get away,” Hannah whispered.

They followed the scarecrow through fields and over split rail fences. A whitetail deer walked a tightrope along the treeline, head down, searching for still-tender leaves. The eyes of the forest sparkled with reflected moonlight as they slipped into the trees at the edge of the farm. Hannah and Gram moved deeper into the heart of the forest. They saw more scarecrows, wobbling between the trees, leaving golden trails of straw on the forest floor. They saw a short, round scarecrow in a polkadot sun dress, and another wearing a once-tall ten gallon hat, smooshed over to one side like a melting ice cream cone.

In her excitement, Hannah bumped right into a scarecrow. She squeezed Gram’s hand tightly. The scarecrow smiled widely from beneath the brim of a straw hat, and motioned for them to follow. The scarecrows skipped along, arm in arm, and Hannah and Gram followed.

They came out of the trees into a huge clearing in the middle of the forest. At the center of the clearing a towering column of fire tickled the belly of the night sky. Scarecrows by the hundreds ringed the bonfire in joyous dance, flinging their bodies dangerously close to the flame.

“Oh, Gram,” Hannah said, “How beautiful! But I hope the scarecrows don’t catch fire!” Hannah pulled Gram toward the flame. The scarecrows closest to the fire joined hands in a game of crack-the-whip, snapping like a willow branch in a tornado. The scarecrows at the tail-end twisted right through the flames without burning.

“Gram!” Hannah yelled. “Those aren’t flames at all. They’re—fireflies!”

Hundreds of thousands of fireflies had jammed together, glowing brightly. Stray fireflies floated above the scarecrows like sparks from the fire. The scarecrow whip cracked close to Hannah and Gram. A scarecrow wearing overalls and a flannel shirt offered Hannah his free hand. She took the scarecrow’s hand and was soon flying through the crowd, laughing with delight. Moments later she flopped to the ground next to Gram, breathless. Honking scarecrow laughs swirled about the clearing, rising and falling.

“They sound like geese with head colds!” Hannah said.

Gram smiled at that. “Yes,” she said. “Scarecrows are not the quiet types you would expect.”

The moon swept across the sky like the hands of a clock, arriving at midnight directly overhead. Dancers twirled to a stop like wind-up toys winding down. Noise dropped to a murmur. The fireflies spiraled out from the bonfire, came together above the clearing and exploded outward, then faded away. The scarecrows joined hands, faces tilted to the Scarecrow Moon. They sang, songs of thanksgiving, songs of wind and rain, sunshine and moonlight. They sang to honor the Scarecrow Moon. Hannah didn’t know the words, but her heart sang along. She held hands with Gram and their very own scarecrow. The last song ended. Their scarecrow picked Hannah up in a big, scratchy burlap hug. Hannah unwound Gramps’ scarf from around her neck and looked at Gram.

“Yes, I think your grandfather would approve,” Gram said.

Hannah carefully wrapped the scarf around the scarecrow’s spindly neck. The scarecrow bowed deeply in thanks. Scarecrows all around them tucked in shirts and straightened bonnets, repacked whatever straw they could find. In ones and twos they drifted away, back to their fields and farms, back to their poles and fence posts.

Hannah and Gram walked home. Hannah yawned as she climbed into bed. “Thank you Gram, this has been the most magical night ever.”

Gram nestled a thick comforter under Hannah’s chin and said, “You’re very welcome, dear. Thank you for sharing it with me. And with Gramps.”

Hannah woke early the next morning. She stepped outside wrapped in her comforter. The Scarecrow Moon had faded to a pale white wafer in the morning sky. Hannah tiptoed through dew-wet grass down to the cornfield. The scarecrow was back where it belonged, exactly as before. Almost. Gramps’ scarf flapped in the early morning breeze. And it seemed to Hannah that the scarecrow was smiling just a little bit more than the day before.