Native trees bore native fruits, watered with love from deep roots in native ground and gave refuge with great joy to passing birds, boughs ever open for those sweet nesting pairs.
A hill, a tree, dappled shade and warmth - a piece of fruit to munch. That was Clara's idea of a good time, savouring the sweetness of Earth's gifts.
The fruit in his hand was a joy as real as the sunshine and the view that cycled through the seasons.
Upon the table was a basket of the sorts of fruits that grew in the neighbourhood - plums, pears and apples for the most part. It was a humble celebration of the harvest autumn brings.
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