Dandelion Jam The snowy winter has finally ended—no harsh frosts this year, just a gentle, powdery season. Yet even a soft winter grows tiresome when you’re craving green leaves, bursts of colour, and the freedom to shed your warm coats. Spring has arrived in a small English town. Tessa loves spring; she waits all year to see nature awaken, and at last, her patience is rewarded. Staring out the third-floor window, she mused to herself: “With these balmy spring days, the town seems to wake up from a long winter’s nap. Even the big lorries sound livelier, and the market hums with life. People stride by in bright jackets and coats, heading somewhere in a hurry, and now the birds wake us up earlier than our alarms. Ah, spring is lovely—but summer is even better…” Tessa has lived in her block of flats for ages; now, she shares her flat only with her granddaughter, Violet, who’s in Year 4. A year ago, Violet’s parents left to work on a contract in Africa—they’re both doctors—leaving their daughter with Tessa. “Mum, we’re entrusting Violet to you; it wouldn’t be right to drag her halfway across the world. We know you’ll look after your favourite granddaughter,” Tessa’s daughter had said. “Of course I will—she’ll keep me company in retirement! Go on, we’ll be just fine together,” Tessa replied. “Hooray, Grandma! We’ll have such fun—days out in the park, just the two of us. Mum and Dad never have time for me,” Violet cheered. After breakfast and seeing Violet off to school, Tessa busied herself with the housework, barely noticing time pass. “I’ll pop into town; I’ll be back by the time Violet gets home from school,” she planned, picking up her bag. Outside the block, two neighbours had already settled on the bench, each with a warm cushion—it’s still chilly out. Mrs. Simmons, an ageless lady—seventy or beyond, her birthdate a closely guarded secret—lives on the first floor in a one-bed flat. Then there’s Val, seventy-five, loud, cheerful, and well-read, the complete opposite of Mrs. Simmons, who finds fault with everything. Once the snow melts and the sun starts shining, that bench never stays empty. Mrs. Simmons and Val are regulars, spending hours there—breaking only for lunch. They know everything about everyone; nothing escapes them. Tessa sometimes joins them too, swapping stories from magazines or the telly, while Mrs. Simmons has a penchant for discussing her blood pressure. “Morning, ladies!” Tessa greeted with a smile. “Holding down the fort, I see.” “Right you are, Tess, otherwise we’d get marked absent! Off to the shops, I’d wager?” Mrs. Simmons asked, eyeing the bag. “Spot on—got to pick up something sweet for Violet’s good marks. Best dash—see you later,” Tessa said, heading off. The day rolled by as usual; she collected Violet from school, made dinner, the girl did her homework, and Tessa settled in front of the TV. “Grandma, I’m off to dance!” Violet called out, already geared up with her bag and phone. She’d danced for six years now, performed at every chance, making Tessa proud of her beautiful, talented granddaughter. “Go on, darling, have fun,” Tessa replied warmly, seeing her off at the door. Later, Tessa sat alone on the bench, waiting for Violet’s return. “Missing someone?” Mr. Ericson from the second floor teased as he sat down. “How could I be bored on a day like this? Spring’s here, so is the sunshine,” she replied. “Too right—birds singing, everything greening up, and everywhere looks golden with dandelions. They’re like tiny suns,” he said, smiling. Tessa agreed. Suddenly, Violet bounded up behind and wrapped her arms around Tessa, barking playfully, “Woof! Woof!” “Oh, you silly thing, nearly scared the life out of me!” Tessa laughed. “Bit early for talk of life and death!” Mr. Ericson chuckled, patting her shoulder. “Come on, scamp—I grated some carrots with sugar, and I’ve made your favourite meatballs. Bet you’re hungry after all that dancing,” she said, ushering Violet home. Mr. Ericson got up too. “You make meatballs sound so delicious, you’ve made me hungry! Might get myself a bite. Let’s meet on the bench later, maybe a walk in the park?” he suggested. “No promises—so much to do, but maybe…” Tessa replied. That evening, she popped out and, sure enough, Mr. Ericson was waiting—the regular ladies had already gone home for dinner. “Mrs. Simmons and Val just left, went in for tea,” he said delightedly. From that evening, Tessa and Mr. Ericson often met—sometimes up to the park across the road. They’d read the paper together, chat about recipes, celebrity gossip, and share stories. Mr. Ericson hadn’t had it easy. He’d lost his wife early, raised his daughter, Vera, alone, juggling two jobs so she’d never lack for anything. But little time was left—off to work before she woke, back after she’d gone to bed. Vera grew up, married, moved away, and had a son. Visits grew fewer, and those that happened didn’t bring much joy. She divorced after fifteen years and became a single mum. “Tess, my daughter’s coming by in two days—rang first thing this morning. Odd, after all these years…” Mr. Ericson told Tessa; they were good friends now, sharing everything. “Maybe she misses you—at our age we want family close,” Tessa supposed. “Not sure, really…” Vera arrived. Abrupt and unsmiling as ever, Mr. Ericson braced for a serious talk, which promptly came. “Dad, I’m here for a reason,” Vera began, “Let’s sell your flat. You’ll move in with us, with your grandson—you’ll be happier, trust me,” she pressed, her tone making it clear her mind was made up. But the idea made Mr. Ericson uncomfortable; he didn’t want to leave his home and live “under watch” with a frosty daughter. He declined, saying he preferred life on his own. Vera wouldn’t take no. She found out about his friendship with Tessa and went to see her, all politeness in the kitchen as Tessa poured tea and set out biscuits and jam. “I’ve noticed you and my father are very close. Could you persuade him about something important?” Vera began. “And what might that be?” “Help me convince him to sell his flat. He doesn’t need all that space alone—can’t he think of others?” she finished sharply. Tessa was taken aback by Vera’s selfishness and bluntly refused. Vera’s expression twisted with rage and indignation. She shrieked insults—accusing Tessa of angling for the flat herself, hoping to secure her granddaughter’s “dowry”, and mocking their friendship. “Lounging together, strolling, chatting about dandelion health benefits—pair of old dandelions yourselves! Bet you’ve already filed marriage papers. Don’t think you’ll get anywhere, you old witch!” she raged, storming out and slamming the door. Tessa felt embarrassed, hoping the neighbours hadn’t overheard. But soon Vera left town. Tessa avoided Mr. Ericson, hurrying on her way if she saw him. But life has its way. Returning from the shops one day, Tessa found Mr. Ericson waiting near the entrance, holding a bunch of yellow dandelions, weaving a garland. “Tessa, don’t run off,” he said gently. “Sit with me for a minute. I’m sorry for what my daughter said. I know she came round and said things… We talked seriously. I’ll always help my grandson, but she… well, she’s gone. Says she’s got no father now… Here—this garland isn’t finished yet. And I made dandelion jam—healthy and delicious, you’ve got to try it. It’s good in salads as well,” he smiled warmly. After talking about the virtues of dandelions, they made a salad together and had tea with dandelion jam. Tessa loved it. That evening, they walked in the park: “I’ve got the latest of our favourite magazine—let’s read it together on our bench under the linden tree,” Mr. Ericson suggested, nodding toward the spot. Sitting side by side, they talked and laughed, forgetting everything else. Life was good, together. Thank you for reading, subscribing, and supporting me. Wishing you joy always!

Dandelion Jam

The long, gentle winter had finally melted away. No bitter frosts this yearjust soft snow, which in the end grew tiresome. Now, people yearned for leaves of green and splashes of colour, and the chance to shed their bulky winter jackets.

Spring had arrived in the quiet market town. Edith loved this time of year, always waiting for nature to wake from its slumberand at last, it had. Looking from her third-floor window, she mused:

With these warm spring days, the town seems to have quite woken up after its long hibernation. Even the lorries sound different now, and the weekly market is lively again. People strut about in bright coats, off to here and there, while the birds wake us earlier than any alarm clock. Ah, its lovely in springsummers even better

Edith had lived in this block of flats for years, now sharing her days with her granddaughter, Pippa, who was in Year Four. Pippas parents were both doctors, called away last year on a contract to Kenya, leaving their daughter in Ediths care.

Mum, were entrusting you with our Pippano sense carting her halfway across the world. We know youll look after your darling granddaughter, her daughter had said.

Of course Ill look after her! Shell keep me company, I’ve got all the time now I’m retired. Go on, well be just fine together, Edith replied.

Brilliant, Granny! Well go to the park all the timeMum and Dad never have time for that. Not me, Pippa rejoiced.

After breakfast, Edith sent Pippa off to school and turned to her housework, the hours flying by.

Ill just pop to the shop before Pippa flies back from school, she thought, getting her bag and coat.

Out by the front of the building, two neighbours were already perched on a bench, cushions tucked beneath themit was still chilly. Mrs Simmonssomewhere around seventy, but no one really knew how old, as she kept it a secretlived on the ground floor. Beside her was Pamela, also alone at seventy-five, a well-read woman with a hearty laugh and a gift for stories, the very opposite of the forever-crabby Mrs Simmons.

As soon as the sun made an appearance, this bench was never empty. Mrs Simmons and Pamela were the regulars, there from dawn till dusk, barring a trip home for lunch. They knew every soul in the buildingnothing escaped their notice.

Edith sometimes joined them, catching up on the neighbourhood news or gossiping about television or the latest bits read here and thereMrs Simmons especially liked to complain about her blood pressure.

Morning, ladies, Edith called, smiling as she approached. Youre already on duty, I see.

Morning, Edith! Duty calls, or theyll mark us absent, Mrs Simmons replied with a wry grin, eyeing Ediths carrier bag. Off to the shops, are you?

Thats right. Need to get a treat for Pippashes earned top marks again, and I promised her something sweet, Edith replied, before heading out.

The day went as usual. Edith met Pippa after school, fed her, and Pippa settled in with her homework, while Edith tackled her own chores, later watching a bit of telly.

Granny, Im off to dance class, came the call.

Pippa stood in the hall, backpack ready, phone in hand. Shed been dancing for six years now, performing at every possible eventEdith was endlessly proud of her beautiful, talented granddaughter.

Go on, sweetheart, Edith replied, lovingly ushering her out.

Edith sat alone on the bench outside, waiting for Pippa to return.

Bit lonely out, isnt it? It was Mr George Ellis, her neighbour from the second floor.

Oh, you cant be bored on a day like this. Springtheres nothing better. The weathers grand, Edith answered.

Quite right. The suns out, the birds are singing, everythings coming up green, and you can hardly move for dandelions. They look like little suns, dont they, those flowers? George said with a twinkle, Edith nodding in agreement.

Behind her, Pippa suddenly bounded up, flinging her arms round Ediths neck.

Woof! Woof! she shouted.

You cheeky monkey! You startled me half to death! Edith burst out laughing.

Now, lets not tempt fate! George chuckled, patting Ediths shoulder.

Come on, Pippagrated some carrot, sprinkled with sugar, just for you. Bet youre tired after all that dancing. And Ive fried up your favourite pork chops, Edith called, her voice gentle.

George got up to follow them.

Why are you heading in so soon? Edith asked, surprised.

Well, after hearing about those pork chops, I got hungry! Ill grab a bite, and maybe we can take a stroll later, he replied.

Perhaps! Ive got plenty to dobut well see

Yet she did join him later that evening on the bench. Saying goodbye to George at the door, with a secret little smile, Edith and Pippa went inside.

Granny, Mr Ellis is courting you! Pippa giggled, once inside.

Oh, dont be daft, Edith said, waving her off.

He looks at you a certain wayIve noticed! If only Oliver in my class looked at me like that, the girls would be ever so jealous, Pippa teased, rolling her eyes dreamily.

Come eat. Youre very observant for your age! Oliver may take another look yet, Edith replied, smiling.

Once again, Edith found herself outside on the bench that evening, George waiting for her. The usual two were gone.

Mrs Simmons and Pamela left ages ago for their supper, George greeted her warmly.

From that evening on, Edith and George met oftensometimes even heading to the park across the road. Together, they read the paper, debated articles and recipes or chatted about famous actors, sharing pieces from their lives.

George had not had an easy lot in life. Once hed had a wife, a daughter named Alice, and a grandson. Left a widower early, hed raised Alice as best he could, working two jobs so shed never want for anything. Yet, there was little time togetherhe’d leave for work while she slept, and return after she was in bed.

Alice grew up, married, settled in another town, and had a son. She visited a few timesand then the visits stopped, as did all warmth between them. After fifteen years of marriage, she and her husband split, raising her son alone.

Edith, my daughter rang this morningshes coming in two days. Out of the blue. We havent spoken in years, George confidedthey were on first-name terms now, nothing held back.

Maybe she misses you. As folk get older, they yearn for family, suggested Edith.

Im not sure, he replied, uncertain.

Alice arrived, as brisk and unsmiling as ever. George waited anxiously for what he knew would be a weighty conversationand he didnt have to wait long.

Dad, Im here on business, she began abruptly. Lets sell your flat, and you move in with us. Youll be happier with me and your grandsoncome on, its all sorted, she was clear; the matter was settled in her mind.

But George felt uneasy, not wanting to be uprooted from his home just to be looked after by his distant daughter. He refused, insisting he liked living alone.

Alice wasnt to be swayed. She found out about his friendship with Edith and marched to her flat, greeting her politely, then settling in the kitchen. Edith poured tea, set out biscuits and her homemade dandelion jam.

What is it, Alice? Edith asked kindly.

Ive noticed how close you are to my father, Alice cut to the chase. Would you help convince him to sell up? I meanhe doesnt need all that space by himself. Cant he think of his family for once? she finished sharply.

Edith balked at the cold logic in Alices voice, refusing her request. Alices demeanour changed in a flashher voice rising, furious and shrill.

Oh, I see so you want the flat for yourself! Found a lonely old man, and you want to set your granddaughter up with a nice inheritancecooing together on the bench, strolling in the evenings, nattering about dandelion jam. Youre both two old dandelions yourselves, arent you? Have you put in a notice at the registry office yet? Im warning you, youll get nowhere with me! switching to a threatening tone, Youll get nothing, you old witch! she shouted, storming out, slamming the door behind her.

Edith flushed, mortified lest the neighbours overheard Alices shouting. Soon enough, Alice left town. From then, Edith avoided Georgehurried past, ducked away whenever she saw him.

And drank tea with dandelion jam
But life has its own way of setting things straight. Returning from the shops one afternoon, Edith found George on the bench by the door, obviously waiting for her, yellow dandelions in hand, already weaving them into a crown.

Edith, dont run off, pleasesit with me a minute. Im sorry about Alice. I know she came to see youand she said things. Weve talked, her and I. Ill keep helping my grandson, you can be sure. But Alice you cant live like that. She’s gone now; she says she hasn’t got a father anymore Me, I, he fell quiet, then offered Edith the unfinished dandelion wreath, Here. I also made dandelion jam, youve got to try ithealthy and delicious. You can put them in salads too, he added, smiling.

After that talk about the humble dandelion, they put together a fresh salad. And Edith drank tea with Georges dandelion jamshe loved it. That evening, again in the park:

Ive got the latest issue of our favourite magazine, George said, lets read it together under our old lime tree, he nodded towards the bench.

Edith sat beside him and laughedthe conversation bubbled up, and for a while, they forgot about everything else. It was good, just the two of them.

Thank you for reading, subscribing, and supporting me. Wishing you all the best in life!