The first warm breeze of spring tiptoed through Meadow Lane and brushed against the sleepy ground.
Under the soft soil, roots stretched and wriggled like they were waking from a long nap. Tiny green shoots peeked up, blinking in the sunlight. The earth gave a quiet yawn.
Lila noticed it first.
On her walk to the garden, she heard a tap tap tap—a robin hopping nearby, tugging at a worm with a proud little chirp. “You’re back!” Lila laughed, kneeling down. The robin tilted its head as if to say, Of course I am. Spring is here.
All around her, the world felt different. Snow puddles shrank into shiny mirrors. Buds popped open on the trees like little green fireworks. Bees buzzed past, humming as they searched for the first flowers.
Lila planted a handful of seeds in the garden, patting the soil gently. “Wake up,” she whispered. “It’s time.”
That night, rain fell softly—plip, plop, plip—singing the seeds a bedtime song.
By morning, the garden sparkled. The air smelled fresh and new, and the sun smiled down warmly. Somewhere beneath the soil, the seeds stirred, ready to grow.
Spring had begun, and the whole world was stretching toward something wonderful.
