Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a fiery glare, felt almost gentle on Amelia’s face as she stepped out onto her porch. Her breath caught, not in a gasp of surprise, but a little skip of delight. Across the way, Mr. Henderson’s ancient oak lay sprawled, a magnificent beast defeated. A tiny chuckle escaped her. This was just the thing!

"Well, now," she murmured, already pulling on her gardening gloves. A chance to help, to connect, to...well, she didn't want to get ahead of herself, but it was just so exciting to think of the possibilities. The smell of freshly turned earth, the feel of the cool morning, the chance to be useful - all of it made her feel unusually giddy.

She crossed the lawn, already picturing the scene. Mr. Henderson, probably bewildered, possibly a little grumpy. She would offer to help, of course. Maybe, if she was bold, she could suggest planting a sapling, a young tree that *she* could help nurture. This was shaping up to be a wonderful day indeed.