On steamy hot summer afternoons, Crow often shared — loudly, with anyone who would listen — the stories passed down from her grandmother. Tales of faraway and long-ago places. Cool-water creeks on hillsides; tiny caves in the rocks, perfect for stashing hoards of shiny things; oh-so-many ancient trees; and late-afternoon thunderstorms that turned hot, humid days into such blissfully, unexpectedly cool mornings that fog lingered among the branches until midday.

(July 2022)

Story © 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.