It was full dark outside, and the wind had died down. Cloudy, quiet, a fingernail crescent of a moon hovering over the treetops and barely visible behind the clouds.

And then suddenly, an unfamiliar sound: an insistent drumming on roofs, on the stone wall, on leaves, and on the ground.

Stumbling, half-asleep, from their snug beds and out into the open, everyone immediately realized what the sound meant. For the first time in many weeks, it was finally raining. They were all soon drenched but wide awake, and in a mood to celebrate.

So when Crow started to hum a jaunty tune, Old Possum was persuaded to lead everyone through the steps of the festive polkas his grandmother had taught him when he was a boy.

(October 2022)

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.