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- Herausgeber: Kelly Johnson
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
Poppy the Parrot dreams of having her very own peach tree, imagining its sweet, golden-pink fruit and sharing it with her forest friends. Determined, she sets out on a grand adventure, starting with finding the perfect peach at the bustling forest market, where she discovers a special fruit with a pit ready to grow. With the precious pit secured, Poppy searches for the ideal planting spot, finally finding a hidden, sun-drenched glade where the light, soft grass, and peaceful surroundings feel just right. Filled with excitement and purpose, she prepares to plant her seed, beginning the journey of growing her dream tree and creating a place of joy for herself and her friends.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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IMPRESSUM
Poppy the Parrot Plants a Peach Tree
Author: Kelly Johnson
© 2025 Kelly Johnson.
All rights reserved.
Author: Kelly Johnson
Contact: 903 W Woodland Ave, Kokomo, IN 46902
Email: [email protected]
Disclaimer
This eBook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Poppy’s Peachy Dream
Chapter 2: The Perfect Peach Pit
Chapter 3: A Spot Among the Sunbeams
Chapter 4: Digging with Friends
Chapter 5: The Watering Worries
Chapter 6: A Sprout at Sunrise
Chapter 7: Stormy Skies
Chapter 8: The Tallest Tree in the Grove
Chapter 9: The First Peach Appears
Chapter 10: A Peachy Celebration
Poppy the Parrot Plants a Peach Tree
By: Kelly Johnson
Chapter 1: Poppy’s Peachy Dream
Poppy the Parrot loved peaches more than anything in the entire forest—more than sunflower seeds, more than shiny beetles, even more than her favorite afternoon naps in the warm treetop breeze. Every time she spotted the fuzzy, golden-pink fruit at the forest market, her feathers fluffed with joy, and she would let out a happy squawk that echoed all the way down the winding river.
One bright morning, as the first golden rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, the sky slowly transformed into a gentle swirl of peach, pink, and soft apricot—the very colors of Poppy’s favorite fruit. The clouds, delicate and wispy, seemed to float like spun sugar across the vast expanse, catching the early light and reflecting it in soft, shimmering hues. Poppy perched on her favorite branch, high above the forest floor, and tilted her head thoughtfully, her feathers glinting faintly in the morning glow.
The forest around her was wrapped in a quiet hush, as though holding its breath to witness the day’s first moments. A faint mist clung to the grass, catching the sunlight and making each droplet shimmer like tiny, scattered diamonds. The leaves of nearby trees trembled gently as the breeze stirred, carrying with it the sweet, earthy scent of moss and dew. Farther off, the faint perfume of ripening fruit drifted in from the orchard grove beyond the meadow, mingling with the subtle fragrance of wildflowers and honeyed clover. Somewhere in the distance, a brook gurgled cheerfully, its soft babble blending with the gentle rustle of leaves and the morning chorus of birds beginning to wake. A woodpecker tapped steadily on a tree trunk, squirrels chattered as they hopped from branch to branch, and somewhere, a rabbit stretched lazily before bounding across the dewy grass.
Poppy closed her eyes, letting the forest’s symphony wrap around her. Her little heart fluttered with anticipation, and a warm tingle ran through her wings. She let herself drift into her imagination, picturing a peach tree of her very own—not just any tree, but one taller and stronger than any she had ever seen. Its trunk would be thick and smooth, patterned like sunlight filtering through leaves, golden highlights running along its bark as if the tree itself had captured the morning. Branches would spread wide, casting long, gentle shadows across the glade, each one heavy with peaches that glowed like miniature suns—pink and gold, kissed by the dawn.
She imagined the peaches hanging low enough that she could reach them with a graceful stretch of her claws, plump and soft to the touch. She pictured them giving under her gentle peck, releasing a burst of sweet juice that smelled of sunshine, summer fields, and warm happiness. Tiny butterflies would flutter among the branches, their delicate wings brushing past the leaves, while bees hummed softly, dancing from blossom to blossom. Birds would perch nearby, chirping in cheerful harmony, as the tree became a centerpiece of life and joy in the forest.
A shiver of excitement ran down Poppy’s feathers, and she fluffed them instinctively. She could almost feel the texture of the tree’s bark beneath her claws, the brush of leaves against her wings, and the soft weight of a perfect peach in her beak. Her heart thumped like a drum, echoing the rhythm of the forest itself, and her eyes sparkled as she whispered, “A peach tree… my very own peach tree. I have to plant one!”
She hopped along the branch, surveying the meadow below, imagining the perfect spot where sunlight would pour over the earth in golden streams. She pictured herself waking every morning to water the tree, singing little songs as she brushed aside weeds, sharing the fruit with friends who would gather around her, laughing, playing, and celebrating the life she had nurtured. The thought made her wings twitch with joy and her feathers quiver in anticipation. The dream was so vivid it almost felt real, and Poppy’s beak curved into a determined little smile. Today, she decided, was the day she would begin.
She imagined waking up every morning, stretching her wings, and gliding down from her nest to the welcoming shade of her tree. The sunlight would dapple through the leaves, warming her feathers as she plucked the juiciest, ripest peach. No more waiting for the market or hoping that the peaches weren’t all gone. She could enjoy the fruit anytime she wished, sharing it with her friends or savoring it in peaceful solitude.
Poppy’s thoughts wandered further. She pictured her friends gathered under the broad, leafy canopy: Milo the Mole popping his head out of the earth to peek at the low branches, Tilly the Turtle slowly but happily waddling under the shade, and Benny the Beaver, tail tapping in excitement, bringing twigs and sticks to make little nests for resting in the tree’s shadow. They would all sit together on soft moss, sharing slices of peach, laughing, and telling stories while the sun flickered through the leaves above them. Butterflies would drift lazily in the warm air, and birds would add their songs to the cheerful scene. The thought made Poppy’s heart flutter and her chest swell with warmth, like the sunrise spilling across the horizon.
The more she imagined it, the more real it felt. She could almost hear the gentle rustle of leaves as the wind brushed through the branches of her future tree, the soft sigh of the forest celebrating its new life. She could smell the sweet fragrance of ripe peaches mingling with the fresh, earthy scent of moss and wildflowers, as if the glade itself were preparing to welcome her dream. She could feel the soft brush of her friends’ fur and feathers, even in her mind, as Milo the Mole poked his head up curiously, Tilly the Turtle ambled slowly closer, and Benny the Beaver leaned on his tail, ready to help in any way he could. Excitement blossomed inside her chest like a thousand tiny fireworks, sending sparks of warmth through every feather, every claw, every inch of her little parrot heart.
“A peach tree… my peach tree,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of awe, joy, and determination. Her eyes sparkled as she perched taller, claws gripping the branch with newfound purpose. “I must plant one. I have to! And I will!” She fluffed her feathers proudly, her wings stretching as if to gather all the sunlight and courage in the forest.
Her imagination carried her forward: she pictured herself fluttering down from her nest each morning to inspect the branches, each leaf perfectly green, each blossom a delicate pink promise. She imagined friends gathered beneath her tree, sharing slices of warm, sun-kissed peaches, laughter mingling with the hum of bees and the trilling of birds. She could almost feel the tickle of the soft grass beneath her claws as she danced around the tree with joy, her friends cheering, wings fluttering, tails swishing.
