The aggressively gray and dreary weather made it difficult to tell the time and, merely adding to Old Possum’s confusion, the hall clock was slow. And his pocket watch needed to be wound.


Warm and cozy in bed, under a pile of soft quilts, he had slept later than he’d intended to and had awoken around mid-morning, feeling groggy and grumbly.


While drinking his tea and contemplating a walk, Possum grasped at the details of his warm-and-lovely early-morning dream. But, as with most dreams, all he could recall were fleeting glimpses, of a meadow full of snowdrops and purple crocus.


(Mid-February 2024)


Story © Jennifer Singleton / Read+Purr
This is another vignette in my ongoing series of Tiny Garden Stories: peaceful 1-minute tales that let you read like a kid again. 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 members-only “Private Garden” page. Or click the third button to learn more about my Tiny Garden Stories. If you’re new to Tiny Garden Story-land and would like 10 days’ worth of stories from our first year, visit


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