Before it turned blustery, with clouds racing across the pale sky and sunshine peeking out then hiding then peeking out again, the day had started out soft and quiet.

During the midday hush, dozens of robins — harbingers, it would seem, of the windy afternoon to come — alighted in a tall tree near the cottage porch, and immediately began to sing. (They had agreed to meet briefly, once a week, to rehearse their holiday carols.) The impromptu concert was so loud that everyone in the garden stopped what they were doing to listen. And then, a mere nine minutes later, it was over and all the birds had flown away.

(Early November 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 ReadPurrNewsletter.com.