A misty morning...

Betty Tipsyberry woke up to an overcast day. Cherrybrook Village generally enjoyed bright sunny days, even in late fall, but today a grey mist came down over the village, dampening the ground and unleashing a rich, humus smell into the air. Thankfully, Miss Betty’s outdoor juice stall, ‘Tipsy Fruits & Juice Bar’ was always shaded by the grand weeping Margaret in the Village Square.
Miss Betty had been serving juice, jam and fresh fruit for over a season now at Cherrybrook Village Square. She grew her own fruit in her hothouse at the bottom of her garden. She was a rabbit who loved growing plants and collecting their plump fruit for her jams and fruit juices. The apples from her lone apple and orange trees yielded enough to last for the for several months. She was very fortunate to have such a little collection, and was known for her prize winning jams sold through fall and early winter.
Miss Betty got up and made her bed neatly. She brushed her teeth and ran a brush through her white fur, taking care around the delicate black tips of her long ears. She nodded at the reflection in her mirror and headed downstairs for a buttered buns and tea breakfast.
Reading the newspaper over breakfast,  Miss Betty turned the page over to the local news. Such exciting news! A new cafe was opening in the neighbourhood. The news reported a menu of  cakes and patisseries .  Along with this, the Watermill Bakery would finally re-open after months of neglect. The previous baker had passed many months ago and the family moved away. The bakery’s water wheel had turned forlornly in their absence. Now with the new café to open and the bakery given new life, Cherrybrook will be filled with the smell of delicious baked goods again!

Ready for the day...

Miss Betty was delighted about the idea, after all, she adored cupcakes! However, a little worry entered into her head as she chewed her buttered toast thoughtfully. ‘Will they serve juice as well?’ she wondered. Scanning through the article, Miss Betty didn’t see any mention of juice being served, mainly just cakes, pastries, waffles and pancakes. She didn’t see the names of the new owners or bakers either. What a mystery!
Miss Betty placed her dishes into the sink to be washed upon her return. She gathered up her basket for the day. She headed out the door of Rose Cottage with the fruit and and jam basket, wrapping a shawl around her shulders against the morning mist, day dreaming about Mont Blanc pastries topped with cherries!