Olivia and the Snow Gate

"Plink, plink, plink."

Olivia heard it from her bed. It was not rain. She sat up and pushed her curtain aside.

The yard was white. Snow was falling, soft and slow, and it was the first snow of the whole year.

"Snow!" she whispered. "I want to be the very first one out."

She pulled on her boots, her coat, and her red hat. She tiptoed down the stairs and reached the back door. Then she stopped. The back gate was the way to the garden, and the garden was where the snow was deepest.

Olivia pushed the gate. It did not budge. Snow was piled against it like a big white pillow.

"Come on, gate," she said. She pushed harder. Nothing.

She tried again with her shoulder. Nothing.

Then she pulled instead of pushed. The gate gave one tiny creak, and it played a little tune, the way it always did. Dee-doo-dee. But it still would not open.

Olivia sat down on the step. Her nose was cold. She looked at the gate. She looked at the snow. Then she looked at her mitten.

"Maybe I don't need to open it," she said. "Maybe I just need to dig."

She scooped the snow with her mitten. Scoop, and pat. Scoop, and pat. A little hole grew at the bottom of the gate. Then it grew a bit more.

Just then, a small brown rabbit popped out of the hole. His whiskers were full of snow.

Olivia laughed. "Hello! Were you going to the garden too?"

The rabbit sneezed. Then he hopped past her and away under the hedge, because he was going home for breakfast.

Olivia pulled the gate again. Now it swung wide.

Dee-doo-dee, sang the gate.

She stepped into the garden. Her boots went crunch, crunch, crunch. Nobody had walked there yet. Only one set of small prints, and they were hers.

Snowflakes landed on her red hat, one by one, and stayed.