Stories about Nature

If you need to reread the stories that we listened to, you can find the videos in 10.1 Stories about Nature or you can find the text at the bottom of this assignment. Draw a picture of “The Little Pink Rose” story. Draw a picture of “The Cloud” story. Draw a picture of “The Blackberry Bush” story. What does “The Little Pink Rose” story illustrate about the life cycle of plants? What does “The Cloud” story illustrate about the part of the water cycle that shows precipitation? What does “The Blackberry Bush” story illustrate about dormancy in plants? The Little Pink Rose "The Little Pink Rose"Once there was a little pink Rosebud, and she lived down in a little dark house under the ground. One day, she was sitting there, all by herself, and it was very still. Suddenly, she heard a littletap, tap, tapat the door."Who is that?" she said."It's the Rain, and I want to come in," said a soft, sad, little voice."No, you can't come in," the little Rosebud said.By and by, she heard another littletap, tap, tapon the windowpane. "Who is there?" she said.The same soft little voice answered, "It's the Rain, and I want to come in!" "No, you can't come in," said the little Rosebud.Then it was very still for a long time. At last, there came a little rustling, whispering sound, all round the window.Rustle, whisper, whisper."Who is there?" said the little Rosebud. "It's the Sunshine," said a little, soft, cheery voice, "and I want to come in!" "N-no," said the little pink rose, "you can't come in." And she sat still again.Pretty soon, she heard the sweet little rustling noise at the keyhole. "Who is there?" she said. "It's the Sunshine," said the cheery little voice, "and I want to come in; I want to come in!""No, no," said the little pink rose, "you cannot come in."By and by, as she sat so still, she heardtap,tap,tapandrustle,whisper,rustle, all up and down the windowpane, and on the door, and at the keyhole."WHO IS THERE?" she said."It's the Rain and the Sun, the Rain and the Sun," said two little voices, together, "and we want to come in! We want to come in! We want to come in!""Dear, dear!" said the little Rosebud, "if there are two of you, I suppose I shall have to let you in."So she opened the door a little wee crack, and in they came. And one took one of her little hands, and the other took her other little hand, and they ran, ran, ran with her, right up to the top of the ground. Then, they said, "Poke your head through!"So she poked her head through, and she was in the midst of a beautiful garden! It was springtime, and all the other flowers had their heads poked through, and she was the prettiest little pink rose in the whole garden. The Cloud "The Cloud"One hot summer morning, a little Cloud rose out of the sea and floated lightly and happily across the blue sky. Far below lay the Earth, brown, dry, and desolate, from drought. The little Cloud could see the poor people of the Earth working and suffering in the hot fields while she herself floated on the morning breeze, hither and thither, without a care."Oh, if I could only help the poor people down there!" she thought. "If I could but make their work easier, or give the hungry ones food, or the thirsty a drink!"And as the day passed, and the Cloud became larger, this wish to do something for the people of Earth became greater in her heart.On Earth, it grew hotter and hotter. The sun burned down so fiercely that the people were fainting in its rays. It seemed as if they must die of heat, and yet they were obliged to go on with their work, for they were very poor. Sometimes they stood and looked up at the Cloud, as if they were praying and saying, "Ah, if you could help us!""I will help you, I will!" said the Cloud. And she began to sink softly down toward the Earth.But suddenly, as she floated down, she remembered something which had been told her when she was a tiny Cloud child, in the lap of Mother Ocean. It had been whispered that, if the Clouds go too near the Earth, they die. When she remembered this, she held herself from sinking and swayed here and there on the breeze, thinking and thinking. But at last she stood quite still, and spoke boldly and proudly. She said, "Men of Earth, I will help you, come what may!"The thought made her suddenly marvelously big and strong and powerful. Never had she dreamed that she could be so big. Like a mighty angel of blessing, she stood above the Earth, and lifted her head and spread her wings far over the fields and woods. She was so great, so majestic, that men and animals were awestruck at the sight. The trees and the grasses bowed before her, yet all the Earth creatures felt that she meant them well."Yes, I will help you," cried the Cloud once more. "Take me to yourselves; I will give my life for you!"As she said the words, a wonderful light glowed from her heart, the sound of thunder rolled through the sky, and a love greater than words can tell filled the Cloud. Down, down, close to the Earth she swept, and gave up her life in a blessed, healing shower of rain.That rain was the Cloud’s great deed, and it was her death, too. But it was also her glory. Over the whole countryside, as far as the rain fell, a lovely rainbow sprang into an arch, and all the brightest rays of heaven made its colors. It was the last greeting of a love so great that it sacrificed itself.Soon that, too, was gone, but long, long afterward, the men and animals who were saved by the Cloud kept her blessing in their hearts. The Blackberry Bush "The Blackberry Bush"from Celia Thaxter'sStories and Poems for ChildrenA little boy sat at his mother's knees, by the long western window, looking out into the garden. It was autumn, and the wind was high. The golden elm leaves lay scattered about the grass and on the gravel path. His mother was knitting a little stocking, her fingers moving the bright needles, but her eyes were fixed on the clear evening sky.As the darkness gathered, the boy laid his head on her lap and kept so still that, at last, she leaned forward to look into his round face. He was not asleep but was watching very earnestly a blackberry bush that waved its one tall, dark-red branch in the wind outside the fence."What are you thinking about, my boy?" she said, smoothing his soft hair."The blackberry bush, Mama. What is it saying? It keeps nodding, nodding to me behind the fence. What is it saying, Mama?""It says," she answered, 'I see a happy little boy in the warm, fire-lighted room. The wind blows cold, and here it is dark and lonely. But that little boy is warm and happy and safe at his mother's knees. I nod to him, and he looks at me. I wonder if he knows how happy he is!"'See, all my leaves are dark crimson. Every day, they dry and wither more and more, and by and by, they will be so weak, they can scarcely cling to my branches. The north wind will tear them all away, and nobody will remember them anymore. Then the snow will sink down and wrap me close. Then the snow will melt again, and icy rain will clothe me, and the bitter wind will rattle my bare twigs up and down."'I nod my head to all who pass, and dreary nights and dreary days go by. But in the happy house, so warm and bright, the little boy plays all day with books and toys. His mother and his father cherish him; he nestles on their knees in the red firelight at night while they read to him lovely stories or sing sweet old songs to him. Oh, what a happy little boy! And outside, I peep over the snow and see a stream of warm light from a crack in the window shutter, and I nod out here alone in the dark, thinking how beautiful it is."'And here I wait patiently. I feel the snow and the rain and the cold, and I am not sorry, but glad; for in my roots, I feel warmth and life, and I know that a store of greenness and beauty is shut up safe in my small brown buds. Day and night go by again and again, little by little the snow melts all away, the ground grows soft, the sky is blue, the little birds fly over crying, "It is spring! It is spring!" Ah! Then, through all my twigs, I feel the slow sap stirring."'Warmer grow the sunbeams, and softer the air. The small blades of grass creep thick about my feet, and the sweet rain helps swell my shining buds. More and more, I push forth my leaves, until out I burst in a gay green dress, and nod in joy and pride. The little boy comes running to look at me, and cries, "Oh, Mama! The little blackberry bush is alive and beautiful and green. Oh, come and see!" When I hear this, I bow my head in the summer wind, and every day they watch me grow more beautiful, until at last I shake out blossoms, fair and fragrant."'A few days more, and I drop the white petals down in the grass, and there are the green tiny berries! Carefully, I hold them up to the sun and gather the dew in the summer nights. Slowly, they ripen, growing larger and redder and darker, and at last they are black, shining, and delicious. I hold them as high as I can for the little boy, who comes dancing out. He shouts with joy and gathers them in his hands. He runs to share them with his mother, saying, "Here is what the blackberry bush grew for us! Aren't they nice, Mama?""'Ah! I am glad, and if I could, I would say, "Yes, take them, little boy, for I kept them for you, holding them long up to sun and rain to make them sweet and ripe for you." Then I nod and nod fully content, for my work is done. From the window, the boy watches me and thinks, "There is the little blackberry bush that was so kind to me. I see it and I love it. I know it is safe out there, nodding all alone, and next summer, it will hold ripe berries up for me to gather again."'"Then the boy smiled, because he liked the story. His mother took him up in her arms, and they went to supper and left the blackberry bush nodding up and down in the wind. It is still nodding there now.