Folksburywoods Story Blog

Thurston Tumblebottom loved Sundays.

“Where will I go today?” Thurston said.

As he climbed a nearby hill, Thurston spotted a small brook. “Listening to a babbling brook is a fine way to spend the day,” remarked Thurston.

Ten minutes later, Thurston sat over the brook on the trunk of a fallen oak.

“What luck finding this tree, now I can enjoy every ripple and splash the brook has to offer,” said Thurston.

Thurston enjoyed the cool breeze flowing through the trees. Once, a fish leaped out of the water in pursuit of an insect.

“I wish every day could be Sunday,” muttered Thurston.

Watching the sun set on the horizon, Thurston had a thought.

“If every day were Sunday, then Sunday would no longer be special. One Sunday, is worth waiting for,” Thurston remarked.

“Time for tea,” said Thurston, who climbed down and headed for home.

Settling in for the night, Thurston thought about this Sunday.

“One Sunday is good enough,” mumbled Thurston, as he fell asleep and dreamed of what next Sunday would bring.

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