The Orchard of Lost Hours

A gardener discovers that every tree in her orchard holds a forgotten memory.

The tree that remembered

The pear tree bloomed in November.

Mara noticed it from the kitchen window, one white branch against a sky the colour of wet wool. She put down her cup. In thirty years of tending the orchard, she had learned which things could wait until morning. This was not one of them.

Outside, the grass was silver with frost. Yet beneath the old tree the earth was warm, and the air smelled of bread. Not the bread from the village bakery. Her mother's bread, with rosemary pressed into the crust.

She reached for a blossom.

For a moment she was seven again. Her mother stood at the kitchen table with flour on her wrists, laughing at something Mara could no longer remember. The sound was so clear that Mara turned, expecting to see her at the garden gate.

The gate was empty. Her mother had been gone for nineteen years.

Mara drew her hand away. The kitchen disappeared, but the warmth stayed in her palm. On the branch above her, a small finch tilted its head as if it had been waiting for her to understand.

At the foot of the tree lay a brass key. She knew that key. She had buried it with her mother.

An illustrative excerpt written for TaleFinch. Continue it in your own words.