LITTLE ANEMONES

In the enchanted hush of the winter garden, the sisters brought the cold world to life. One sat among the frost dusted vines, her book open like a treasure chest spilling secrets, the words weaving tales that danced in the still air. Another wielded her axe with the precision of a woodcutter from an old fable, each log splitting cleanly as if by magic. The youngest darted through the trees, her laughter ringing like the chime of fairy bells. The garden covered in snow and whispers of wonder, seemed alive with their spirit, as if winter itself had paused to listen.