The wendy house was Bella's favourite place to read, how she'd be so content to spend blessed hours soaked into the sweet pages of a book.
The wendy house was the hues of a summer garden, bright pastels that brought sweet desserts to our daydreams.
In the wendy house we served afternoon tea and cookies to our friends, sitting upon folded legs and chattering as if words were our rocket fuel.
The wendy house was a soft beige canvas over simple poles. Grandma had made windows and a doorway, carefully sewing the edges in bright wool. It was our place of make-believe, a place our imaginations could fly.
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