“Live in each season as it passes: breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit.” ~ Henry David Thoreau
In the spring the leaves would come first, a fresh green colour, that spoke of newness and life and then the buds would follow. So small at first that you had to search for them but as each day got brighter and warmer they would swell until eventually bursting forth in a riot of pink-y white petals.
As the days pass the petals would eventually start to fall from the tree until it stood in a carpet of its own making.
Time moves on, spring into summer and little fruits cover the tree where once blossom bloomed and the sun would shine and the rain would come and she would watch them grow so big and heavy that the branches would bend down and touch the ground.
As summer turned, the scent of Autumn lingered in the air. Warm days and cool night, dew sparkling in the morning light. She would wander down the garden to touch the fruit, holding them in her hand to see if they were ready to fall.
But Quince trees are not to be rushed, unlike apple trees they are slow to ripen their bounty and October will come and nearly go before finally their treasure is ready but in the meantime she watches and waits for their seasonal gift enjoying the last of the summer sun as it dips low in the sky.
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