Mrs Budd’s Apple Jam
The big, runny, yellow sun sent his warm beams down to the fruit trees to clean and shine the plump, rosy apples in the orchard.
It was Mr Budd’s orchard and he lived with Mrs Budd in a white washed walled cottage in the village of Oakapple.
Mr Budd’s garden was the finest garden in the street. Indeed it was the nicest garden in the village and the most lovely garden in the shire said some. It was the most beautiful garden in the country thought Mr and Mrs Budd.
The rooster perching on a gate puffed out his chest, brushed down his feathers and cleared his throat, “Good Morning”, he cock-a-doodle-dooed.
Mr Budd stretched, pulled his legs over the side of the bed and scratched his head. He looked out at the sun through the window and whistled a little tune.
Mrs Budd was very busy in the kitchen and as he came downstairs, Mr Budd could smell breakfast cooking. Sausages and mushrooms were sizzling with the eggs in the frying pan.
“The sun has cleaned the apples”, he said looking out of the window at the finest apples, the biggest apples and the most juicy apples that ever grew on a tree.
While Mr Budd went into the garden to begin picking the fruit, Mrs Budd hurried down to the village to buy some sugar to make her special apple jam.
She chatted to the postman and the farmer, to the milkman and the vicar coming home from the village.
Birds were singing from the trees and in the field cows were chewing and mooing. Mrs Budd could smell the fragrant mint in the meadows and caught a hint of coming autumn in the air.
She walked quickly home and was soon staring at the the fruit in her own little orchard. Mr Budd who was very busy collecting the apples and pears and plums.
Mr Budd had already had a busy day and after tea he snoozed in front of the fire in his favourite chair.
Mrs Budd now quite alone took from around her neck a ribbon on which hung a key. She unlocked a lock and found her special wand and a book. Mrs Budd was a witch, but the happiest, most gentle and kindly witch you could ever wish to meet.
Mrs Budd poured the cooking fruit into jars but before putting on the lids she looked out at the yellow moon and she knew it was time.
It was dark outside. Mrs Budd opened the small window over the sink where she was making her jam. The jars were shining clean, the fruit was stewed and was ready. She did not know that a friendly old owl had flown from his tree and was sitting on the window sill.
She picked up her wand and said her magic rhyme…..”Book of spells and wand and key, weave your magic now for me”. Little moon beams suddenly flew down from the sky, passed by the owl, came through the window and straight into the jam pots, lots and lots of sparkling stars.
Mrs Budd’s jam was the finest, the most tasty, the most mouth-watering jam because it was made from the finest, the biggest, the most juicy apples grown in the finest, nicest, most beautiful garden you will ever find. It also had a little touch of magic.
And only we know why, the owl and you and I!