Story 1 - blossom

I woke up a couple of minutes before my alarm and yawned and stretched.

I inhaled like someone hovering over a cup of fresh brew.

Something was different.

I put on my robe and opened the curtains of the cottage that was my home since the heart of winter.

I gazed into the garden with my mouth sagged open. Overnight, the old apple tree in the garden had started to blossom.

Bright pink flowers danced over the branches, and I wanted to bury my face in them, inhaling the scent.

I got dressed fast, rushed down the stairs of the cottage and opened the kitchen door.

I sat down and looked up into the apple tree, my hand on the grass below.

I whispered up into the branches, "Well done, tree."

Its rustling felt like an answer in kind.