A terrific rainstorm had blown through overnight, leaving small ponds in its wake.


But the next morning was what one of Crow’s distant cousins always referred to as a “beach” day: clear, bright, fresh, and blustery. The sort of day, she wrote once in a postcard, that makes you wish you were breathing salty air at the shore, while gliding above the waves, or lounging on the sand, under a giant umbrella snapping in the breeze.


Crow had never yet been to a beach, but she always remembered her cousin’s description on days like this.


She thought of it again today as she drifted in the blustery air above the trees, listening to the leaves rustling and sighing in wind that, surely, sounded like waves on the ocean.


(June 2023)


Story & Photo © Jennifer Singleton / Read+Purr
This is another vignette in my ongoing series of Tiny Garden Stories: peaceful 1-minute tales, full of cozy vibes, delicious details, and generous dollops of imagination & whimsy. Click one of the first two buttons below to go to (or back to, if that’s where you fell down the rabbit hole) either the Public Garden archive page or (if you’re a Story Club member) to the Private Garden page. Or click the third button to learn more about my Tiny Garden Stories. Want each week’s featured story delivered directly to your inbox? Subscribe to my Substack. 


Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.