She nearly missed it, captivated as she was by a golden honey of a spring afternoon – fat bees buzzing slowly, sweet musical melodies trailing behind the bright little birds that trilled them, and the sun dappling down dizzy through the fresh green leaves overhead -- it was almost too much. The mood was something not to think on, not to wonder about, but just to revel in with subtle gratitude. This kind of reasonless, season-induced joy was much too rare to question. Any kind of tight focus was bound to chase it away, so she simply filled her eyes with green and gold, her ears with twittering and buzzing, and her nose with the scents of freshly cut grass and new blossoms.
And that was how she nearly missed it. Trying not to look too close or linger too long in any one spot, she almost passed right by the giant oak—as she did every day—without noticing anything different about it. Luckily, she wasn’t moving tooquickly. Was it the giddy little whisper that she heard first, or did she catch sight of an almost imperceptible green blur between the blades of grass where the ancient roots had pushed up through the earth? Later she would swear first that it was one, and then change her mind and think it was the other, and she would never be sure. But at the moment that it happened, she knew only that she had already passed the mammoth tree by several cheerful skip-hopping steps when she stopped dead in her tracks and thought, what was that?
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Comments: 10
One thought: I nearly missed your point. I thought what she nearly missed was the magically beautiful day. Maybe start with words such as "She nearly missed it because of the day." Then I know the "it" is something different.
However, like the narrator who was undecided and yet confident, I was sidetracked by verbiage that came out rather consciously-planted here and there...
Otherwise, a good showcase of a true talent. Way to go!