sweet tea. -tkam

enchanting.

-3rd pov-

      The wind waved her pale blonde hair softly in the breeze, and the sun left a glow on her skin, hitting her through the slivers between the magnolia trees leaves and petals. Moss carpeted the land, sprigs of grass sprouting from some, as snails found their homes at the rocky base of the tree.
    Ivy crept up the aged bark, twisting itself around the branches and rooting between each crack and crevice. The waxy emerald leaves rustled soothingly, and occasionally petals fell from the treetops around her.
       Her powder blue prairie dress blanketed around her legs as she sat, a cross-stitching hoop resting in her lap. Golden hour had begun to shine its enchanting light upon the fields of amber grain, and in valleys of wildflowers and clover.
      In the lakes, rivers, and streams, the golden light sparkled on each ripple, each wet rock glistening like jewels for the short moment. The clouds were tinged with the faintest pink hue, and the world seemed like a painting. Birds fluttered from trees, and butterflies danced above wildflowers under the suns loving gaze.
      But there in an old field, past moss covered fences and rusted gates reclaimed by the land, sat something so unknowingly and delicately gorgeous.
     The sun glinted in her blue hydrangea eyes, and on her glossy peach lips. Her silky hair blended harmoniously with the golden sunlight, and her freckles alluded to the nights coming stars, scattering her face, as if each delicately painted on by an artists loving hand. Soft taupe eyebrows, and long brown lashes.
      Pearls peeked from behind her hair, elegant earrings she always wore. Her delicate hands created art as she leisurely sat under the old magnolia tree.
     Daisy Mae gingerly made the movements, painting a scene on canvas with needle as she cross-stitched a field of wildflowers. She couldn't afford much, and decor was one of those things, so she made her own. Just like the dress she wore.
       Daisy Mae looked like something from a movie, each day frolicking in vast open fields, dancing in the rain, catching bugs in the yard, chasing chickens, hugging cows, picking flowers, harvesting crop, baking bread. She was free. This was her idea of freedom.
     She never wanted money, or luxury. She didn't want fame, she didn't want authority. She wanted to be free.
      An inch worm made its way across the moss, and daisy placed her finger in front of the tiny thing. Lifting it to her face, she observed the small creature with great love.

"Well look at you..."

She smiled softly as the inchworm lifted the upper half of its body onto the air, as if standing to look back at her.

"Ain't you cute...just a little thing aintcha..."

She placed the worm back onto the moss carefully

"There you go. You can go on home now"

She watched as the inchworm disappeared into the grass, another small thing that made up the world around her.

She thought to herself, how she had never expected to see an inchworm again when she married Elton.
     Silly things, insignificant things, they reminded her of what she had. She loved the inch worms and she loved the humans, she loved the flowers and the frogs, she loved the moss and the sun.
      She loved the world, the outside. For in her eyes, how could she not forgive such a beautiful thing for what it had done. It was never the earth that hurt her, but the world.
     She could endlessly forgive the land for her tribulations, for her broken glass heart. She felt so grateful for the fresh air around her, eternally grateful for her own hearts beating. She admired the world in this moment, unaware that the world too admired her.

-atticus' pov-

There she was, in the old grain fields, not bothering a soul. I saw her from my porch, watching the golden hour light hit her with its enchanting glow. She didn't do a thing wrong in her life I presumed, I looked at her longer as she sat.
      Peacefully cross-stitching under the magnolia tree. The old fields lay untouched for years after the old owner passed on, and have since been nothing but forgotten terrain reclaimed by nature.
      But she seemed to find beauty in it. Something about her was strangely enchanting, Wether it was her soft southern voice, her big blue eyes, or her poster girl smile, something was oddly alluring.
      Beyond her beauty, she was charming in a sense that wasn't typical or quite....normal. She was unusual, undoubtedly.
     But her peculiar ways and odd behaviors were harmless, and she was a curious young woman. Her mannerisms were bordering on sweet and polite, and slightly off and clumsy. She was the kind of person that you found hard to be mad at, as she never seemed to mean anything bad by her actions or words.
     She seemed to be a smart lady, but there were some things she truly and honestly couldn't grasp, or never learned. I secretly hoped she would never learn how to fit into the social norm.