The Rain Jar

Ivy's garden was dry as toast. The grass was yellow, and the path was dust.

Ivy had an empty jam jar with a lid. She wanted to catch the smell of rain in it, the cool, sweet smell that comes up from the ground. She wanted to give it to Gran, who liked it best of all smells.

"It hasn't rained for ever," said Ivy. "So I'll have to find the smell somewhere else."

She stood on tiptoe and held up the jar to the sky. Sniff, sniff, sniff. The sky smelled of nothing.

A duck named Mabel waddled by. Mabel wanted rain too, because rain brings worms, and she was very hungry. She looked at Ivy and said, "Quack," which meant, "Don't look at me."

Ivy tried something different. She filled her watering can and splashed the dusty path. Sniff, sniff, sniff. There was a tiny bit of the smell, like a whisper. But then the can slipped, and splosh, Mabel got a shower.

"Quack!" said Mabel, and she shook herself like a wet mop.

"Sorry!" said Ivy. She sat down on the step and thought. Her nose was still full of the little whisper. The whisper had come from the dust, when the water touched it.

Then the wind turned. It came over the fence, cool on her cheeks. Ivy lifted her nose. Sniff, sniff, sniff.

There it was. It was the smell, big and green and sweet, and it had come before any rain at all.

"Mabel!" she whispered. "It's coming!"

Ivy twisted off the lid and held the jar up high. A grey cloud rolled over the roof. Plip. Plip. Plip-plip-plip. The dust turned dark, and the whole garden smelled of rain.

Ivy popped the lid on tight. Mabel stamped about, hunting for worms, happy as anything.

Ivy sat in the porch with the jar in her lap, and the rain drummed on the roof. The glass was cool and the air was sweet, and the smell was still arriving.