Short Stories

Descriptive Writing - Spring Time

During Spring my grandma's garden would flourish. What survived through the miserable weather of winter, would spring back to life and be given back its strength that had previously been worn down by the wind and rain.

Sat in the large apple tree in the corner, a home weaved out of twigs and leaves brought about the first new life that Spring gifted us. The faint chirping of new born baby birds marked the first morning of Spring. As they emerged from the safety of their shells, the vast, bright sea of blue watched over them as they opened their eyes for the first time, as they gazed upon the world they would learn to love and live in. The luscious leaf green that clung to the twisted branches around them was a refreshing sight for my weary morning eyes. The slight scent of tree bark and sap a delightful awakening for my nose.

The gloomy aura of winter that trapped the world was broken down by the creation of Spring. The distant laughter of children on their Easter holiday was the evidence of the happy aura Spring gave. Just by the volume of noise that surrounded me, I could tell it was Spring. Birds were singing their unique songs, as loud as ever, the cattle in the field - behind the garden's back fence - were saying their usual morning greeting in a much more cheerful tone than before, the insects that no longer hibernated, buzzed and zipped, the frantic noise of busy bees and the dreaded wasps resonated from amongst the flower beds, even the faint trickling of water from the fountain could be heard.

I stepped out onto the freshly cut grass, the scent which I loved - due to the memories it gave me, caused my eyes and nose to itch and I smiled as my hay fever became a problem again. Gazing over the flower beds which filled half the garden, my eyes must have gleamed with excitement due to the rainbow of colours. With the sun above us, the flowers lit up with its warmth and I hugged my chest from the cool, nippy air. The sun's rays were no longer mine, they belonged to the flowers. The bright, yellow daffodils were ebullient and seemed to laugh as the wind swayed them slightly. The calm, but dark red tulips emitted a fragrant aroma like no other. While I couldn't name every flower, I adulated the assortment of colours which were well and truly like a rainbow. The bees and butterflies were in equal agreement , searching for their succulent snack of pollen and nectar.

Moving away from the fragile petals of flowers, I gave my attention to the small, rabbit sized hole in the back fence. I watched as the wild ball of fur hopped around on full alert, his small, twitchy nose sniffing out his next meal. Next came the miniature versions of Mr Rabbit, each new fluffy bunny smaller than the last. Watching the baby rabbits reminded me of the soon to be born, lambs of Spring. Sheep reminded me of clouds and pillows, my own image of comfort, so every year when the lambs were born it was a habit of mine to see them like clouds and pillows too. Admittedly the lambs were much cuter, and the childish bleating they produced made me feel nostalgic as I remembered when I was as childish as them.

As I left the halcyon wildlife and flowers in peace, my eyes fixated on the large cherry blossom which hung above the pond, the pale, delicate, pink blossom like a fairy as it rippled across the water's dreamy, reflective surface which coruscated in the sunlight. As I sat beneath the tree, more blossom fell, dropping gently from the branches as they floated away in the quiet breeze. The movement was hypnotising. I laid back against the tree trunk and closed my eyes, as the blossom danced around me and the wind kindly stroked my face. My mind wandered into the soothing meadows of distant fantasy lands as I slowly slipped into sleep