🌿 “The Gar

Y332
Sat, 25 Oct 2025 03:59:26 +0000
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“The Garden in Winter” Mrs. Ellis had lived in the same little house at the end of Willow Street for almost forty years. Her hands were permanently marked by the soil of every spring she had ever planted; they smelled faintly of mint tea and marigolds. Every neighbor knew her small garden. It was never extravagant—just rows of herbs, short-stemmed flowers, and an old wooden bench that listed slightly to the left. Children said the bench tilted because it was tired from listening to all the stories Mrs. Ellis told there. When winter came, the garden became pale and silent. Frost covered the rosemary bush like sugar, and the wind played the dry stems like broken violins. Most people kept their curtains drawn, waiting for warmer mornings, but Mrs. Ellis still went outside every day with her kettle of warm water. She poured some across the birdbath to melt the ice, checked the quiet soil with her gloved fingers, and sat down on the bench regardless of the cold. One morning, a new neighb