Vernal: appearing or occurring in spring
March 20, 2012
Afternoon sunlight slanted through the glass ceiling. Outside a clear blue sky foretold of coming warmth, but the landscape was still only just starting to turn green, buds barely popping on the trees. The bareness of winter was quickly fading, but the abundance of summer had yet to take root.
Inside the greenhouse was another story entirely. Flowers as big as sunhats burst out of their pots in the corners, hung from the ceiling. Plants of all shades and varieties swayed in rows, giving the somewhat steamy glass building a jungle-esque quality.
Tiny fingers reached for the little purple bulbs just budding on the back table. Neville gently caught the hand groping for the fragile blossoms, chuckling at the indignant squeal of its owner.
"Best not to touch those, angel," he said, tucking the small hand against his chest.
The little girl sitting in his arms regarded him with her big, blue eyes, pink mouth slightly open. A halo of wispy, golden curls ringed her head, and her hand found its way into that open mouth. She squawked some unintelligible noises and turned her attention to the purple skirt of her dress, examining the cottony bunnies that adorned it in honor of the first day of spring.
Neville smiled to himself and tucked his daughter's head under his chin, rocking her a little as he turned to survey the rest of the room.
The shrieks and squeals of small children reverberated around the glass walls, but at first glance, none of them could be seen. Then a bright red head popped up behind the begonias: Rose examining a handful of glittering gravel she'd collected from somewhere. Under the table beside her trainers, Al sat cross-legged, digging in the dirt with a stick, his own small collection of treasures at his knee.
"Neville, look!" someone was tugging on his elbow. Lily cradled in her hands a large grasshopper and was evidently delighted by it. Behind her, Hugo poked his head out from under a table, eyeing Lily's new friend cautiously. Alice shrieked in Neville's arms and withdrew her chubby, bare legs up into her skirt, clinging to his neck.
Somewhere out of sight there was a clattering bang, followed by James's call of "It's not broken!"
"I got it," Teddy grinned, sliding form his perch on the desk where he'd been fiddling with seed pouches and going to investigate James's shenanigans. His bright blue hair kept him from disappearing into the greenery like most of the others.
Victoire swept her long braid out of her face and bent down to get a closer look at Lily's grasshopper, effectively distracting the four-year-old.
Neville leaned back against a table and let his gaze wander over the bright new faces; the new shoots just poking out of a ravaged landscape. The old scars of winter still shone through, almost painfully. But it was only a matter of time before the new blooms covered them.
Alice was once more reaching for the purple buds, a yearning cry bubbling up on her lips. Neville lifted her high out of reach of the plants, blowing raspberry on her cheek to turn her cry into a piping giggle. Her purple dress fluttered.
A/N: I'm not sure that I've articulated my feelings very well here, but I'll just have to hope my metaphor has the desired impact. Anyway, just a quick note on Neville and his daughter. If you look on my timeline, you'll see that Neville's oldest daughter (nine months old in this) is named Alice Amilia Longbottom. I imagine her going by Ami rather than Alice when she gets older for reasons I hope to disclose somehow at some point in one of my stories. So if in the future Neville suddenly has a daughter called Ami and not one called Alice, you'll know what's going on.
And here comes your daily reminder to be ever so kind and drop me a line or two! :)