Dandelion Jam Winter’s blanket of snow finally melted, leaving behind a softness that made spring’s arrival all the more welcome. The town was waking up—you could tell by the bustle at the market and the cheerful flutter of birds outside windows. Taissia, a long-time resident of her old block of flats, watched from the third floor, eager for sunshiny days, the riot of colour, and the freedom from heavy coats. Spring suited Taissia. She lived with her granddaughter, Vera, ever since Vera’s parents left for a doctor’s contract in Africa: “We trust you with our little Vera. She’s happier with you, Mum.” Taissia had laughed, promising to make the most of retirement with her sprightly granddaughter. The day unfolded with its familiar rhythm: breakfast, school, chores. Outside, her neighbours had already claimed the bench beneath the budding trees—Mrs Simmons, whose real age was as mysterious as her sharp wit, and Valentine, the loud, joyous bookworm, always in friendly opposition to Simmons’s grumbling. The bench was never empty once the sun came out, and these two were its loyal sentinels, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. Taissia sometimes joined in, gossiping about what she’d read, sharing news from TV, enduring Simmons’s health complaints. But today she popped to the shops, promising Vera a sweet treat for good marks. After school, Vera practised her dance moves, which made Taissia beam with pride. In the evening, she waited for Vera outside, joined by their neighbour, Mr George Elliot from downstairs, who always greeted the spring with a poet’s soul, likening the golden dandelions to tiny suns. Vera, ever the bundle of energy, startled her grandmother with mischief, and Taissia gathered her up for dinner—grated carrots sugared just right and her favourite homemade cutlets. George lingered too, tempted by the mention of cutlets, and hinted at a walk later. By and by, Taissia found herself back on the bench with George, sharing quiet moments now that Simmons and Valentine had retired for the evening. These gentle evenings became habit, strolling to the nearby park, reading magazines, exchanging life stories and recipes. George’s life had not been easy. Widowed young, he raised his daughter, Vera, alone, working late into every night. Vera grew up, moved away, married, had a son, then divorced and raised her boy alone. Visits became rare and strained. One afternoon, George shared news—Vera was coming. Taissia was optimistic, but George doubted: “She wants something, I’m sure.” Vera arrived, all business. She pressed George to sell his flat and move in with her, sharing space with her and her son—a practical solution, but George recoiled, preferring his independent, familiar staple of life. Vera, relentless, learned of her father’s friendship with Taissia and visited, tea and sweets on offer. But her words cut sharp: “Convince him to sell the flat, it’s wasted on one old man. Surely you’re not after it for yourself or your granddaughter?” Accusations flew, harsh words rang out, and Vera stormed away. Taissia was mortified, worried what the neighbours must have heard. For days, she avoided George, ducking inside when she saw him. Yet, as fate would have it, she met George outside the building, making dandelion chains. “Don’t run off,” he pleaded, offering her the half-finished chain. “Sorry for my daughter. I’ve spoken to her—she’s left, and says she has no father now. But I wanted to give you this. I’ve made dandelion jam. It’s delicious—and healthy too,” he smiled, “and dandelion makes a fine salad.” That evening they shared dandelion salad and tea with spoonfuls of his homemade jam. Taissia loved it. Later, they walked together under their favourite linden tree, magazine in hand, laughter rising softly into the spring air. It was just the two of them, their worries forgotten, sharing stories and sweet dandelion jam. Thank you for reading, subscribing, and supporting me. Wishing you all the best in life!

Dandelion Jam

The snowy English winter finally drew to a close. It hadnt been particularly harsh this yearmore gentle and white than bitter and biting. Still, even the mildest winter can wear on you, and by March everyone longed for fresh green leaves and bursts of colour, not to mention a chance to retire their wooly coats.

Spring arrived in the small market town where Edith had lived for ages, tucked away in her familiar five-storey block. She loved the season, always eagerly awaiting the awakening of nature, and this year, she finally saw it. Standing at her third-storey window, she mused to herself:

With these warm days, the whole town seems to have woken from its long winters sleep. Even the lorries sound different, the market is bustling, and people parade around in bright jackets and spring coats. The birds are a better alarm clock than any device. Ah, spring is grandand summer will be even better.

Edith lived with her granddaughter Charlotte, who was in year four at the local primary school. A year had passed since Charlottes parents accepted contracted jobs in Kenyaboth were doctors, and theyd entrusted their daughter to Edith.

Mum, Ediths daughter had said before leaving, Were leaving Charlotte here with you for safe keeping. Its hardly practical to take her there, but we know youll watch over your favourite granddaughter.

Oh, of course I will, Edith replied, Shell keep me young, and Ill have something to do in retirement. Off you go. Charlotte and I will be just fine.

Hurrah, Gran! Charlotte cheered, Now we can go to the park all the time. Mum and Dad are always too busy for me.

That morning, Edith made sure Charlotte ate a good breakfast before sending her off to school, and then spent her time on chores until midday approached.

Ill pop to the shops, and Charlotte will be home from school in no time, she thought, picking up her bag.

Outside, on their blocks bench, sat two neighbours, perched atop warm cushions to guard against the lingering chill. Marya solitary woman of indeterminate age, perhaps seventy, perhaps more, depending on her moodwas secretive about birthdays and dwelled in a small flat on the ground floor. Beside her was Barbara, also seventy-five and living alone, always lively, laughing heartily, fond of a good book and a story, the stark opposite of Mary, who found fault in everything.

As soon as the snow melts and the sun appears, their bench is never empty, and Mary and Barbara are regularschatting all morning, taking breaks for lunch, but always returning. Not a thing in the block escaped their notice.

Edith would often join them, discussing news, sharing clippings from magazines, or television tidbits. Mary, in particular, liked to grumble about her blood pressure.

Hello, ladies, Edith greeted with a smile, Youre on the job early today.

Hello, Edith. Someones got to hold down the fortelse theyll mark us absent, Barbara joked. Off to the shops, are you? she added, glancing at Ediths shopping bag.

Just so, Edith replied. I promised Charlotte a sweet treat for her top marks at school. With that, she hurried on, not lingering.

The day proceeded as usual. Edith met Charlotte from school, made supper, and later, Charlotte settled down to her homework as Edith watched the evening news.

Gran, Im off to dance class, Charlotte called out.

Charlotte had her dance bag in one hand, her mobile in the other. Shed been dancing for six years, performing at local events, and Edith was quietly proud of her beautiful granddaughter.

All right, sweetheart, off you go, Edith replied gently, seeing Charlotte out the door.

Later, Edith sat by herself on the bench, waiting for Charlotte to return.

Feeling lonely? her neighbour Tom sat beside herhe lived on the second floor.

How could I be lonely on a day like this? The spring weather is glorious, Edith replied.

Indeed. The suns shining, birds are singing, everythings waking upthe grass, the coltsfoot, those yellow flowers look just like little suns, Tom said, smiling. Edith nodded in agreement.

Just then, Charlotte sprung up from behind, surprising Edith with a hug and a shout.

Woof, woof!

You rascal! You scared me out of my wits, Edith laughed.

A bit early to be talking about fright, Tom chuckled, patting Edith on the shoulder.

Come on, sweetheart. Ive grated you some carrot with sugarbet youre worn out after all that dancing. I made your favourite meatballs, too, Edith coaxed Charlotte inside.

Tom rose from the bench as they did.

Why the quick getaway? Edith teased.

Well, you made those meatballs sound so good, Im hungry myself. Ill go and rustle up something. Maybe Ill find you on the bench later and well go for a stroll, Tom suggested.

No promiseslots to do. But, who knows

That evening, Edith did step out onto the bench again, and Tom was there, waiting. Strangely, Mary and Barbara had already gone.

Theyve just popped home for supper, Tom said cheerfully.

From that night on, Edith and Tom met frequently, sometimes strolling through the park across the road, reading newspapers, swapping recipes, discussing the latest news or reminiscing.

Toms own story had not been a happy one. Hed had a wife, a daughter, and a grandson. But hed been widowed young and had raised his only daughter, Victoria, as best he could, working two jobs so shed lack for nothing. Hed leave for work before she woke and return after shed gone to bed.

Victoria grew up, married, and moved to another city, had a son, and after a few visits, their relationship faded. The reunions lacked warmth, and after fifteen years, Victoria split from her husband, raising her son alone.

One for you, Edith: my daughters coming to visit in two days, Tom said one afternoon. She rang this morningseems strange after so long without much contact.

Perhaps she misses you. People crave family as they grow older, Edith suggested.

Im not so sure

Victoria arrived. She was as distant as ever, brusque and preoccupied. Tom dreaded the conversation he knew was coming, and she did not disappoint.

Dad, Im here for a reason, Victoria began. Lets sell your flatyou can move in with us. Youll be with family and grandson. Itll be more fun, she said, her tone making it clear shed already made up her mind.

Tom felt uncomfortable, not wanting to be uprooted from his home for life under his stern daughters watch. He refused, insisting he liked his independence.

Victoria wasnt done yet. Learning that her father spent time with Edith, she paid Edith a visit. Polite at first, she sat in Ediths kitchen where Edith poured tea and set out jam and biscuits.

I can see youre close with my father, began Victoria. I wonder if you could help convince him of something important?

Whats that?

Help persuade him to sell his flat. Why does one old man need so much space? Cant he consider others? she snapped.

Edith was stunned by her coldness and firmly refused. Victorias composure slippedshe shrieked, red-faced, accusing Edith of wanting Toms flat for herself and her granddaughter, and stormed out, slamming the door.

Edith felt uneasy, hoping the neighbours hadnt overheard. Soon after, Victoria left town. But Edith now avoided Tom, rushing home if she saw him.

And yet, life has a way of setting things right. One afternoon, Edith returned from shopping to find Tom waiting outside, a bunch of freshly-picked dandelions in hand, weaving a little crown.

Edith, dont rush off, he called, just a minute, please. Im sorry about my daughter. I know she said some awful thingsIve spoken to her, and Ill always support my grandson, but the way she acted Anyway, shes gone now, and told me Im no longer her father. I… Well, heretake this, he said, handing her half-finished dandelion crown. I made some dandelion jamhonestly, its delicious and good for you. You must try it, and you can even toss the flowers in salads, Tom smiled as he spoke.

After that talk about the wonders of dandelions, Edith and Tom made a salad together and had tea with dandelion jam. Edith found she really liked the flavour. That evening, they strolled to the park once more.

Ive the latest issue of our favourite magazine, Tom said when they reached their usual bench under the linden tree.

Edith sat beside him and they laughed and talked, forgetting the world around them. Life was sweet with company.

The days drifted into one another, filled with small kindnesses and simple pleasures. In the end, Edith realisedno matter what troubles arrive, warmth and friendship help you bloom, just like dandelions, wherever life plants you. And so, she learned that joy comes not from the size of your home, but from the hearts beside you.

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