Everyone who could fit through the chipmunk-sized door (it was rather a squeeze for Old Possum) — and who didn’t have somewhere just as safe, or safer, to go — had gathered at Mama Chipmunk’s house in the stone wall. They lit candles and huddled in the library, reading out loud to each other to pass the time, while the wind raged and howled, whipping the trees into a frenzy.

Early the next morning, Old Possum set out to check on his old friend, Mouse, and his tiny house in the woods. Fortunately, all was well with Mouse’s family, but while the two friends drank coffee on the front stoop and discussed the unusually fierce wind and its aftermath and the coming spring, they could hear Crow and her siblings and cousins and friends all singing a noisy lament to the trees who had fallen in the storm, including the giant, ancient spruce that had been the tallest tree in the woods and one of the crows’ favorite gathering spots.

(March 2023)

Story © Jennifer Singleton / Read+Purr

This is another vignette in my ongoing series of Tiny Garden Stories: peaceful 1-minute tales, full of cozy vibes, delicious details, and generous dollops of imagination & whimsy. Click one of the first two buttons below to go to (or back to, if that’s where you fell down the rabbit hole) either the Public Garden archive page or (if you’re a Story Club member) to the Private Garden page. Or click the third button to learn more about my Tiny Garden Stories. Want each week’s featured story delivered directly to your inbox? Subscribe to my Substack.