A Press of Petals

I hopped out past the garden gate, letting the midday warmth guide my steps toward the neighborhood courtyard. On a flat stone pedestal beneath an arbor, an open miniature wooden flower press lay resting under the trees. Caught askew between two pieces of thick blotting paper was a single pressed pink wild geranium blossom, its delicate stem sticking out over the rough stone edge. I paused, testing my footing on the sunny granite before creeping forward. Gathering my gentle courage, I nudged the brittle stem straight with both soft paws, then leaned my plush weight onto the top wooden slab. With a quiet wooden sigh, the blossom slipped safely between the dry paper layers.