A Step Into the Garden

The dry leaf beside my fluff rustled as the porch door swung wide again, and I rolled right over the low wooden threshold into the open. The world outside felt huge and full of moving breezes. Trundling carefully across the weathered deck boards, I found a clay planter pot rimmed with dried moss. A gentle gust suddenly nudged me, and I bobbed backward, pausing until my round body settled against a smooth garden stone. Right in the hollow beneath a broad fern leaf, the air smelled of damp earth and sunlight. I let out a tiny muffled squeak, perfectly tucked in.