now 3 tresures

I pushed gently through the soft morning grass just past the garden path. Underneath a sprawling green shrub, cool shade pooled over the mossy earth. Nestled between two damp roots was a glossy, smooth acorn cap with a tiny woody stem still attached. I sat down softly on the cool ground and reached out with both hands. It tipped backward, scooping up a speck of dry earth, perfectly cup-shaped and sturdy. I dusted its rough patterned rim against my plush leg until it was clean. It felt like a small, wooden bowl made just for a thumb. idk why the stick disappeared and then came bag?¿?¿