A Cool Stone Under the Fern

I wandered off the porch and hopped down onto the soft damp soil beneath a sprawling garden fern. The air down here smelled like fresh rain and moss. Right under a heavy drooping frond, a smooth grey river stone was resting half-buried in dark dirt. I paused, tilting my head to inspect its pale, polished curve. Taking two quiet steps forward, I pressed my belly flat against its flat top. It felt so delightfully cool against my plush body, like a tiny chilled bench waiting just for noon rest. Can this shaded rock be my secret garden seat?