Ivy and the Humming Puddle

Ivy found a puddle that hummed.

It sat right by the gate, small and round, and it made a low, wobbly note. Mmmmm. Ivy stepped in it with her red boots, and the note changed. Mmm-OOO.

"Mum, the puddle is singing!" said Ivy.

"So it is," said Mum, not surprised at all. "Puddles do that when it rains."

Ivy wanted to hear every note. So she wanted to make the whole garden hum, one puddle at a time. But there was a problem. The biggest puddle, the one under the old apple tree, was not humming. It was full of leaves, and the leaves sat on top like a lid. Not one note came out.

Ivy bent down and pulled. A twig poked out of the leaves, and it bent, but it would not come loose. It was stuck under the root.

"Come on," said Ivy. She tugged again. The twig only bent more and snapped back. Splat! Water flew up and landed on her nose.

Ivy sat back on her heels. Pulling was not working. What else could she do?

A small brown duck waddled over. It had come to look for worms in the wet grass, and it did not care about Ivy or her puddle. It walked straight through the leaves, flap, flap, flap, and its feet pushed them to the side.

Ivy watched the leaves slide. They moved when something moved the water!

"Oh," she whispered.

She did not pull the twig. She stood at the edge and stamped, once, softly. Ripples ran out. The leaves floated apart like a sleepy crowd making room, and the twig slipped out all by itself.

Mmmmm, went the puddle. A deep, round, happy note.

"There you are," said Ivy.

The duck found a worm and gobbled it down. Ivy stamped again, and the puddle sang its deep note, and the rain kept falling, soft as someone tapping on a drum.