Micia’s adventures in the vegetable garden, the hayloft and the farmhouse attic.

• 20 October 2026 #17 The Cellar Answers Back The next morning, the two sprigs of butcher’s broom were still in their little vase on the windowsill. Micia straightened them, then went down to the cellar to find a basket for chestnuts. As soon as she opened the door, she smelled wood and cool stone. Large wine barrels rested on supports along the walls. A lantern lit their iron hoops, while a strip of pale daylight came through the small window. “Good morning,” Micia said. A fainter greeting came from the vaulted ceiling. Micia stopped. She looked behind a barrel, then in the corner by the wicker-covered demijohn. Nobody was there. “Who said that?” Her last words came softly back to her. Micia’s eyes widened. She rested a paw on the round end of the biggest barrel and tilted her head. “Was it you?” The barrel stayed still. Micia waited, then tried whispering. This time she could barely hear anything. She said her own name a little louder and heard it repeated beneath the bricks. At last she smiled: it was the echo of her own voice. She stepped back and gently clapped her paws. That sound bounced between the walls too. Near the door, though, it seemed to fade more quickly. Micia tried twice more, moving to a different spot each time. She was having so much fun that she forgot about the basket until she noticed it hanging from a hook right beside the exit. She took it and headed for the stairs. “Goodbye!” The cellar sent back a little piece of her farewell. Micia laughed. “You can keep that one. I’ll bring you another tomorrow.” Read the tale →

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