The Old-Fashioned Cookies



The cold, bright, sleety morning was making Old Possum nostalgic for the gingerbread his grandmother would make around this time of year when he was a boy.


She had always used the old-fashioned recipe that had been handed down from their ancestor who lived above an ancient clock in a faraway country and who loved to watch (and smell) the annual Advent market from his windows. According to family legend, he had been given the recipe by the very baker who had the most popular Lebkuchen stall at the market.


Possum unearthed the hand-written card from his recipe drawer and, after breakfast, sent notes to Raccoon and Crow, asking if they would like to help him bake a batch of gingerbread.


Raccoon arrived that afternoon with a basket full of jars with cinnamon and cloves and nutmeg and cardamom and ginger, and Crow arrived a few minutes later, carrying a string bag with small paper sacks of almonds and candied orange and lemon peel. Once they’d unpacked everything and begun chopping and mixing, and had brewed a pot of hot coffee to keep them going through the intricate recipe, Possum’s kitchen smelled like an Advent market on a cold winter’s day.


(Early December 2023)


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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