Title: Melvin Mushroom Gets Noticed
Word Count: 150
GIF Credit: I MADE MY OWN! (sound the air horns!)
​But special thanks to the following sites for the Spring time image & mushroom image

For a forest dwelling decomposer, Melvin Mushroom was FULL of life. 

Spring had sprung! Hunting season was approaching and mushrooms were quietly nestling into their hideaways, hoping to survive the Spring season.

Meanwhile, Melvin wanted to be noticed. With his fleshy stem and sandy cap, how would he  ever stand out?

Maybe a joke would do the trick?
“What do you call a mushroom that loves a good time?”
“A fun-gi, amirite?!”
But, there was no laughing.

Melvin didn’t let his spirit droop.
Perhaps a song?
“THROW YA SPORES IN THE AIR…
& SPREAD ‘EM LIKE YA JUST DON’T CARE!”
But, there was no singing.

Melvin didn’t let his stem sag.
What about a dance?
“Time to let your SHROOM shake! Feel the rhythm in your roots!”
But, there was no dancing.

Suddenly Melvin heard a faint voice... 

“Here, Dad! I found one!”

Annnndddd….

PLUCK!

Just like that, Melvin was noticed!

Alone a Raindrop, Together a Cloud
Word Count: 49

Alone, I am a small sprinkle.
Together, we are united water.

Eeek, I can’t hold it!
I drip-drop…

DOWN,

         DOWN,

                 DOWN.

Alone, I am a barely-there plop.
Together, we are a happy puddle. 

SPLISH,

             SPLASH,

                          SQUISH!

Ahhh, the sun!
I evaporate… 

UP,

UP, 

UP.

Together, a cloud once again.

Cardamom’s Courage
Word Count: 214

Cardamom sat on the dusty, top rack and thought:
If only I could be a little more fiery, like Cayenne.
Or, perhaps a little more bold, like Dill.
Instead, she was an acquired taste…
an unpopular spice, rarely used in any recipes.
Above all, Cardamom struggled to feel confident in her own glass jar.

Valentine’s Day finally arrived. The seasonings were musing about who would be used in tonight’s special dish. 
“I hope Chef is feeling SPICY tonight!” Cayenne said.
“What about me? I’m a BIG DILL!” Dill added.
Cardamom stared from her empty rack, lonely and quiet. 

Soon, the Chef opened his well-loved recipe book.
The spices watched eagerly as his spindly finger grazed the list...
Past the soups and salads,
Past the appetizers and entrees, 
Landing on… desserts. 

The old pages of the book flipped and settled on: Raisin Nut Bread.
The Chef gathered the ingredients.
Suddenly, he gripped Cardamom tightly, measured the perfect amount, and sprinkled her into the mixing bowl.
Cardamom’s heart fluttered.
​
Be brave, Cardamom! Be YOURSELF!
She danced among the raisins and walnuts.
She folded her sweetness into the sticky dough.
Her warm notes paired with the other spices beautifully.

It wasn’t long before the delicious smell filled the kitchen.
She watched from her rack–proud to be Cardamom.

FIRLING'S FRIEND
By: Molly Ippolito
Word Count: 250

Firling breathed in the cold, crisp breeze. Though he stood only as tall as the park bench beside him, he could still sense the yuletide in the air.
Firling’s thin branches stood still. He could hear the warm laughter in the snow covered park.
His scarce pine needles vibrated with joy as the sweet notes of Christmas carols echoed off the frozen pond.
‘Tis the season! Firling thought.
Soon I’ll be dressed in my Christmas best!

Firling watched as rows of nearby trees were adorned with colorful ornaments.
Yards of beautiful garland twisted and twirled around his tree neighbors.
Bright stars twinkled and angels perched atop trees as far as Firling could see.
Who will decorate me? Firling worried.

Suddenly a small girl approached.
“Aw! Poor, little tree! You’re the only bare one in the park.”
Firling felt his bare branches sag.
“Oh Christmas Tree, I can help! You stay right here! I’ll be back!”

Time passed and Firling began to worry that the girl wouldn’t come back.
As the sun was just starting to set, the girl returned.
Carefully, she hung hand cut paper hearts from Firling’s branches.
She wrapped long strands of braided yarn from trunk to tree top.
Finally, she placed a brightly painted cardboard star on Firling’s highest branch.
The girl beamed at her work.

“Oh, little tree! How lovely are your branches!”
The little girl flashed Firling one last smile, before heading down the sidewalk.
Here I am, Firling thought. Dressed in my Christmas best!

Image courtesy of: The Post & Courier

Image courtesy of Belmonte Builders

A Gardener's Idea
How does an idea grow?
A great question no doubt!
You need patience and love,
To help nurture your sprout.

You may find in the palm
Of your hand there’s a seed.
Keep it close, care for it,
Tend your small thought in need.

Water here, water there,
A single leaf, then two.
Ideas flourish with time,
This we know to be true.

A sprout may be little,
Soon its roots will take hold.
An idea once steadfast, 
Other minds it will mold

To the dirt it may seem,
That your notion lay low.
Feed it patience and love,
Your idea will soon grow.

And before your own eyes,
Flowers bud in due time.
With sun as its teacher,
Up, up, up it will climb.

To the sky and above,
Yellow flowers will bloom.
From the clouds to the ground,
There will be little room.

Seed will drop from center,
A straight path down to land
Until the next seed grows
From your heart to your hand.

Image ​courtesy of Susan Kaye Leopold