Pip and the Heart That Forgot How to Bloom

Five years ago, Julie Beisel sealed her beehives with her own hands.

Her husband had died that morning. The wax cooled. The garden surrendered to bindweed. The luminous jars of wonder honey that once brought neighbors to her door after dark fell dark on the shelf. Now she sells plain chamomile from her porch in Bridgewater Corners, Vermont, and keeps her back to the brambles.

Then, in the soil beneath her last living rosebush, something begins to glow.

Pip is a wonder keeper, older than libra...