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In the sun-kissed corners of Nestington, where baskets of freshly picked cherries sit on verandah tables and birds gather on the washing line to sing their morning songs, a new tale quietly began.
Savannah, with her bright smile and wondering eyes, was used to twirling through the village in her favourite dresses, but never before had she worn the Puff Sleeve Anglaise style. Today, that was about to change.
Her grandmother, Anne-Marie, had chosen this dress especially for her; stitched with love, sunlit memories and a promise of summer mischief. When she first held it in her hands, she whispered, “This one is for my Savannah,” and even the wind seemed to hush to listen.
Inside the cottage by the river, the dress rested on a vintage wooden hanger. Sunlight filtered through lace curtains, dancing across the fabric in dappled light. Strawberries, cherries and golden pears lay scattered across the soft blue-and-white gingham like tiny treasures from a garden picnic. The puffed sleeves sat sweetly at the shoulders, and along the hem peeked a soft frill of white broderie anglaise; as delicate as whipped cream atop a summer pavlova.
Luna, the ebony cat with golden eyes, curled herself around the chair leg, purring as though she approved. Willow, ever faithful, sat nearby with her tail thumping gently against the floor. And from the windowsill, Mr Crow tilted his head knowingly, as if he could already see the laughter and picnics to come.
Grandmother Anne-Marie smiled as she imagined Savannah wearing it for the first time; perhaps skipping through their garden, perhaps climbing the old fig tree near the riverbank, or maybe helping carry warm scones to the table on a gingham cloth just like the one printed on the dress.
This Puff Sleeve Anglaise Dress was more than a dress. It was a beginning. A beginning of new memories, new twirls and a new story for Savannah.
And so, with the scent of jasmine drifting in on the breeze and the faraway sound of kookaburras laughing, the ‘Fruit Check’ dress was packed gently into Anne-Marie’s wicker basket, ready to be gifted and worn for the very first time.
For in Nestington, love is often stitched quietly into cotton, and sometimes the greatest magic comes from a grandmother’s heart.
Handmade in Australia, exclusively for Nurture the Nest.
