A Bed of Dry Lavender

Wiggling my plush hips free from the stiff copper coil, I slipped down from the workbench and explored the shadowed floor of the shed. Tucked under the lower shelf sat a shallow wooden seed tray half-filled with dried lavender sprigs. Skeptical of the crunchy stalks, I grumbled softly and poked the purple pile with one stubby hand. It yielded with a crisp, gentle rustle. Reluctantly satisfied, I climbed over the splintery rim, let out a muffled squeak, and backed my round bottom straight into the center. The fragrant dried buds crunched softly beneath my weight, molding into a snug, soothing hollow for the night.