The backyard garden glowed under a silver moon. Bramble chose a warm spot in the dirt.
He dug a small hole and tucked the striped sock inside. He covered it with soil and patted it flat.
Bramble curled up beside the patch and drifted to sleep. The garden was very quiet.
Morning came and Bramble scurried to the spot. He pushed the dirt with his paws, but nothing showed.
He scratched at the soil and let out a frustrated huff. 'Not a sign yet,' he thought.
The next morning he brought a thimble and poured water on the patch. Still nothing.
Bramble sat beside the patch and tapped his foot. Tap. Tap. Tap. The garden stayed still.
He went home and climbed into his nest of leaves. Nothing grew. Not a single sprout.
Night fell again. Bramble dreamed of stripes and green shoots and a soft whooshing sound.
Morning. A rustling sound woke Bramble. He tumbled out of bed and raced to the garden.
An enormous striped stalk shot up from the earth! Dozens of mini socks dangled from its branches.
'Well, I declare,' said Bramble. He reached out and touched the nearest little sock.
A breeze swept through the garden. The socks swayed and whispered against each other.
Bramble wrapped a striped sock around his shoulders like a blanket and sat down in the garden.
The socks rustled and whispered all around him. Bramble closed his eyes and smiled.
The garden hummed with soft whooshing sounds. Bramble listened, wrapped in stripes, perfectly content.