Hellebores

The story writing continues! Tomorrow will be another milestone. You can read some about L.C. Schäfer's idea for a writing marathon here and see some of the prompts being used:

Prompt number nineteen:

The prompt for today is about flowers that bloom in January.

***

January was such a bleak month. Thank goodness for the hellebores.

She went out to the garden only to provide food for the birds and to look at the hellebores. She loved the orderliness of their foliage, their little branches providing a strong support to the coloured blooms which bowed their heads towards the stems in gratitude. They bobbed pleasantly in the cool winter wind, sometimes shoved into quivering by a icy gust.

She had planted them with Gareth and so they would always hold a special place in her heart. It was one of the last days where everything had been sunny. She remembered how they had chosen them together at the garden centre; how they had visited the café and indulged in their coffee and walnut cake; how they held hands as they carried a hellebore each back to the car, perfectly balanced, their symmetry as a couple aligned.

They had chosen the purple hellebores to plant. Their centres contrasted so brightly with their petals like a gold locket on the neck of a princess, adorned in a purple gown. They were beautiful.

She filled the bird feeders. She could hear the expectant chirps of the robin, shouting out like a dinner gong. She decided she would sit and watch as the sky was high and bright today and the tightness of her cheeks in the cold made her feel alive.

She placed herself on the edge of the raised bed where the hellebores were swaying and gently rubbed a petal in her fingers. Gareth would have loved how they looked now. They were thriving.

Her throat constricted as she thought of how much she missed him. Her longing, even in her old age, for the man she loved made her heart ache, palpitate, leap and she allowed the sadness that she kept at bay to engulf her.

***

Before she was discovered by the neighbour, a robin visited her cold, still form. There is a myth that robins are the spirits of your loved ones, come to check on you.

But she was no longer there to visit. The robin was just a curious bird and her spirit was already with her love.

***

366 words

I love hellebores and have this particular variety in my garden. I also love robins and love to see them hopping about. There is something so cheery about them.

I'd like to think they there is something of the spiritual about them being around...

I wrote a poem about one that looked a little dishevelled. Excuse the picture as it does not do it justice:

Thanks for stopping by! If you read this, please do leave a comment as I do love to interact with my readers!

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