Carol A. Hand
I should be editing today, but I promised my granddaughter I would share this story. We didn’t have a chance to work on it together so I’m writing it for her.
More fierce storms rolled through on Saturday evening when my granddaughter was spending the night. She grew frightened as the sky darkened and warnings about severe storms headed our way sounded on the radio.
She was on the verge of tears. “Ahma, where can we hide?”
“I have another idea, Sweetie,” I replied. “Let’s go outside and offer tobacco with a prayer. I’ll teach you how. The lightening and rain haven’t come yet so there’s still time.”
I showed her the garden I had chosen, but she found her own special garden by the ninebark bush. When she finished, she smiled and we went inside and read a story.
When the thunder and lightning ended, and the rain abated for a moment, we took our little dog out. I laughed when I saw the huge puddle in the alley behind the house. It was covered with little popping bubbles.
“Ahma,” my granddaughter joyfully shouted when she saw the puddle. “The puddle is tooting! That’s what happens when people are swimming and toot (fart). It makes bubbles in the water.”
Just then, the rain began again, and bubbles appeared on all of the puddles the whole length of the alley. My granddaughter laughed and danced with delight despite the rain.
The next day, she sang a song about “The Tooting Puddle Bubbles.” (Try saying that fast!) We went outside the next morning to look for the bubbles, but they were gone. The biggest puddle was still there, though, and we took some pictures.
I’ve gone a little overboard posting them…
The illusion of bushes, buildings and fences growing out of the asphalt intrigues me.
May we all find simple moments for gratitude and laughter during and after storms along our path.
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