A fierce storm rumbled across the sky. Water poured and poured over the garden below. Nimbo watched from high above.
Nimbo wrung her edges, but the rain kept coming down hard. She could not stop it.
When the storm passed, the garden was a mess. Leaves floated everywhere. A muddy puddle had swallowed the flowerbed.
The tiny seedlings were lying flat in the mud. Nimbo gasped.
Nimbo took a deep breath and squeezed. Fat drops fell — splat, splat — into the puddles.
She tried again, puffing herself tight. Just a few drops fell this time. The seedlings did not move.
The sun appeared, warm and yellow. Nimbo remembered something.
She gathered every bit of herself and squeezed until she was a whisper. Then she let out the softest mist in the sky.
It fell like a secret, landing on every petal without a sound.
The dewdrops shimmered. One by one, the seedlings lifted their heads. A pink bud popped open.
Then a yellow one. The little girl ran out, her boots squishing, and pointed. 'They're blooming!' she said.
Nimbo floated a little higher, still small, and glowed.
