For days on end, it seemed, it had rained. And rained. And rained some more.


Then, after one final night of rain and wind and even a bit of thunder and lightning, morning dawned bright and blue and blustery.


While they’d been cooped up indoors out of the downpours, Mama Chipmunk’s grandchildren and their squirrel friends had made a flotilla of tiny boats out of hollowed-out walnut shells, each with a tall twig for a mast and a tissue-paper sail. In the late morning, they carried them out to the pond that had sprung up at one end of the soggy meadow, set them in the water, and watched the wind carry them across the mini lake as if it were a vast roiling sea.


(January 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. 


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