Fiddleheads

Fiddleheads

For quite some time, she searched around the house for a quiet place to rest…

Behind the refrigerator was problematic because of all the cobwebs, and the compressor kept sporadically kicking on and startling her awake.

Under the couch wouldn’t work because a nearby radio was left on between stations, blaring intolerable noise and static throughout the room.

The warm basket of freshly dried socks and towels seemed promising until she heard the floorboards creak and the lights flicked on – alas, it was time to fold the laundry.

Reluctantly, she decided to search outside for a quiet place to rest…

To her, night sounds like random hooting owls, croaking frogs, creaking trees and their rustling leaves were unsettling and all spelled danger – mainly because she could never quite figure out which direction the sounds were coming from.

She spotted a nook under a fiddlehead fern and sensed that she might feel safe there. Turns out, she was right. In fact, the fern was pleased to have the company and in exchange for a little warmth, kindly unfurled some of her fiddleheads to cover her guest in a comforting blanket of fronds

They both rested there together, safe and content, throughout the night – amidst the random background sounds of the hooting owls, the croaking frogs, the creaking trees and their rustling leaves – all of which now, surprisingly, didn’t seem so scary anymore.

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