love match

My parents wanted me married, out of the house. My father was a no-account with a rum blossom on his nose; my mother constantly urged me to go into town and gather orange blossoms (look for a wife, if you’re not from around here).

I went into town, and found a young woman just ready to bloom, to come into blossom. She was a vivacious young creature, rejecting the beaux buzzing about her, her cap set for a young man ready to blossom into something himself. As it happens, her name was Blossom.

Love blossomed, as did we both.

for Carrot Ranch Friday Flash Fiction Challenge

A Walk

Walking through this young forest on a game trail, I breathe deeply. The path beneath my feet is soft. Light from a friendly sun, filtered through green canopy, dapples my face. The variety of trees here is amazing. Beech, tulip, oaks and hickories, other hardwoods. An understory of hornbeam, flowering dogwood, strawberry bush. Animals of all kinds thrive in this forest. That’s the word. Thrive. An environment in balance but evolving through vigorous growth. I count my breaths as I walk, to clear my mind. To let in the positive vibrations that envelope me. Life is good in Antartica.