Every autumn, a marmot named Mo said goodnight to the mountain.
He ate lots of grass.
And berries.
And more grass.
And a little bit more grass just to be safe.
Then he went into his burrow, fluffed his blanket of moss, curled into a ball โ
And went to sleep.
Zzzzzz.
Hibernation.
The best sleep of all. ๐ฆซ
๐๏ธ Waking Up
Mo woke up when something warm touched his nose.
Sunshine. Coming through the burrow door.
Oh good, he thought. Spring.
He stretched his four short legs.
He yawned a yawn so wide you could see every tooth.
He waddled to the door of his burrow and stepped outside.
And stopped.
The mountain was… green.
Very green.
Flowers everywhere. Butterflies. Bees humming. Long warm grass.
“That’s a lot of spring,” said Mo.
“That’s not spring,” said a passing bird cheerfully. “That’s summer. You’ve been asleep for ages.”
Oh. ๐ฆซ
๐ What Did He Miss?
“Did I miss the first flowers?” said Mo.
“Yes,” said the bird.
“The last snow?”
“Yes.”
“The baby deer?”
“They’re not babies anymore. They run very fast now.”
Mo sat down heavily in the warm grass.
He had slept through the whole beginning of the year.
But the sun was warm on his fur. The grass smelled wonderful. Berries were everywhere.
“Well,” said Mo slowly. “What’s happening NOW?”
๐ Aria Shows Him Around
Aria was walking on the mountain when a round, blinking marmot sat down in the middle of the path and looked extremely confused.
Aria sat down beside him.
And showed him everything.
The butterflies. The stream. The big warm rock perfect for sitting on. The berry bushes heavy with summer fruit.
Mo ate a great many berries.
“This is wonderful,” he said, with purple juice on his nose.
“You didn’t miss everything,” said Aria. “You just arrived at a different part.”
Mo thought about that.
Then he ate more berries.
This was, he decided, a very good part to arrive at. ๐ฆซ