(This is part II of a short series about the plant that lives outside my window. It is dedicated to my friend Brooke who encouraged my fictional narrative of a sappy little plant. If you missed part I you can click here.)
Fall dropped its head into the gutter. It burrowed under the soggy leaves, rolling into a tight ball to escape winter's pounce. But one little plant, living below the gutter, shouted in excitement, "Winter! Winter is here!" He'd heard bedtime stories about winter and the wind that would would snap up his leaves, preparing him for Spring. But this little plant, living in a window well, didn't get his leaves snapped up. The wind didn't care to reach into this little cubby.
"Wind can't be too wonderful," he consoled himself. "It's cold and it's probably painful and besides, who would rake my leaves? I'd be looking at them 'til Spring."
But still, Plant knew the truth: to grow taller and to sprout more beautiful leaves in Spring, the old ones must come off. To be taller then the well someday, he would need to lose his leaves. But how?
Everyday the wind blew colder and the fog grew thicker. Steam covered the window, leaving cracks like broken glass. He peered through them enviously. If only the people inside would tear off his leaves for him. As he looked at his gnarly fists, dry and stubbornly clinging to his branch, he wondered if maybe the rain could drown off his leaves. But as time went on, the leaves hung strong.
One bright morning Plant woke to the sound of bells and carols. As he looked upward to see what the fuss was about, he caught a glimpse of himself in the window. The leaves had fallen. The leaves had fallen! There hadn't been rain or wind. Instead, he saw a thick layer of white fluff glittering on the cement floor. His leaves were peaking out in dots of color as if to say, "Told you so!"
Plant smiled big and shook his empty arms. Light, refreshed and clean, he laughed about his worry. Silly worry. Spring would come soon!