An intense storm front was blowing in and a fierce wind buffeted the cottage and the garden, hurling sticks from the trees and knocking over trash cans. Earlier that morning, the cats had been snuggled contentedly inside the cottage, but the wind was so loud that it woke them from their midday nap. Outside, in the garden, hardly anyone dared venture outside for fear of being blown away. Squirrel, who couldn’t stand to be cooped up for very long, dashed round and round the meadow with the wind in his fur. But Mama Chipmunk and her grandchildren stayed in their snug stone-wall library and read books. Rabbit kept to her burrow and worked on a batch of lavender-scented candles. Raccoon tidied her tree nest (which was feeling a bit blustery, to be honest) and organized her baking supplies. Old Possum sat by the fire in his living room, curled up under the quilt Mama Chipmunk had made for him, reading a book and listening to rainy-day music. And, all the while, Crow and her cousins drifted in giant circles high above the garden, playing in the wind.