The fifth day

A blue, blue day in the garden today. Cold. The last of the leaves shivered precariously on their branches.

A moss covered flagstone caught the sun's attention. So did a tiny purple flower.

The trees cast long shadows. Tiny cast her own.

The fourth day

I entered the garden - a dripping and wet world of deeply rain soaked earth and globes of water hanging off every leaf.

At first I thought how quiet it seemed, other than for the sound of the falling rain. Then I heard the peeping of a hundred tiny birds, playing in the red maples and amongst the fallen leaves.

The third day

Going into the garden this morning felt exactly like going into the Secret Garden.

A small,chilly breeze stirred the leaves. The birds were everywhere and let me get very close. Tiny birds darted from branch to branch. Two of them were playing and the sun caught their wings, turning them brilliantly transparent.

The grass had only recently been mown and its fresh cut scent still lingered.