Nell Spins a Puddle Cloud

Once upon a time, at the top of a hill so high that the clouds came to it for wool, there was a cottage. In the cottage lived Granny, and Nell, and Nell’s little brother Bo.

Granny was the cloud-spinner of the hill. She sat at her spinning wheel by the open door with a basket of sheep’s fleece at her feet. The wheel went round, whirr, whirr, and out of the fleece came cloud. It grew on the spindle, soft and grey. Then Granny let it go, and away it sailed to rain on the fields in the valley.

Granny never hurried. Not for the kettle, not for the hens, not for anything. When she spun, she always said the same four words.

“Slow wheel, soft cloud,” said Granny.

Clouds spun after supper stayed in for the night. Granny kept them in the bread bin, so they would not drift off before morning. The bread lived in a tin.

Nell was learning to spin. Whenever Nell tried hard, the tip of her tongue poked out of the side of her mouth. It poked out most of all at the wheel.

Bo had brand-new red boots, and he had waited all week for a puddle. Every morning Bo looked at the dip in the lane, where a puddle ought to be. Every morning it was dry.

That evening, Bo sat on the step in his red boots. He did not even swing his feet.

Nell looked at Bo. Then she looked at the wheel.

“Granny,” said Nell, “may I spin Bo a cloud? Just a little one, for a puddle before bed.”

Granny got up from the stool, slowly, and sat down on the step beside Bo.

“The wheel is yours,” said Granny. “Slow wheel, soft cloud.”

But Bo was waiting, and Nell was in a hurry. She spun the wheel as fast as it would go. Whirr-whirr-whirr! A cloud no bigger than a teacup popped off the spindle.

Nell let it go. It bobbed across the yard and stopped right over Bo.

Plip.

One raindrop landed on the very end of Bo’s nose.

Bo went cross-eyed looking at it. “That’s not a puddle,” said Bo. “That’s a nose.”

Nell laughed, and Bo laughed, and the drop fell off.

“Slow wheel, soft cloud,” said Granny.

“I’ll make a bigger one,” said Nell, and she spun even faster. Whirr-whirr-whirr-whirr! The cloud filled the doorway. It was bigger than the cottage, and still growing.

Then it rained.

It rained on the roof and the gate and the whole top of the hill. It rained on the washing, which had nearly been dry. It rained on the hens. They marched in a row under the upturned wheelbarrow and stood there, very crossly, looking out.

Granny fetched the bread bin. She took off the lid and held the bread bin up high.

“In you come,” said Granny.

The big cloud folded itself up, smaller and smaller, like a sheet coming off the line. It slid into the bread bin, Granny put the lid on, and the rain stopped.

It had only rained for a moment. The dip in the lane was hardly damp, and every other drop ran away down the hill to the valley, where the farmers were very pleased. But up on the hill there was still not one puddle for Bo.

Nell sat on the stool with rain dripping off her nose. She looked at Granny, who was not hurrying, not even now. Then she took a handful of fleece.

“Slow wheel, soft cloud,” said Nell.

She spun so slowly the wheel hardly seemed to move. Whirr. Whirr. Whirr. The tip of her tongue poked out the whole time. The cloud grew round and white and soft, until it was just about the size of a sheep.

“There,” said Granny. “That’s a cloud.”

Nell carried it to the gate in both arms and let it go over the dip.

The cloud rained softly, pitter, patter, pitter, pat, right into the dip. It rained until the dip was full, and then it stopped. There in the lane lay one round, splendid puddle.

Bo looked at it. Then Bo jumped.

Splosh!

He jumped forwards and backwards and round in a circle. He jumped until his red boots shone and the whole sky went pink.

“That’s not a nose,” said Bo. “That’s a puddle!” Bo jumped once more, just for Nell.

Granny gave Nell a big hug. It smelled of fleece and rain.

* * *

That night Bo fell asleep still saying “splosh”. His red boots stood by his bed. There was still a raindrop in the toe of each one.

Nell’s little cloud was floating over the gate. Nell carried it in, and Granny lifted the lid of the bread bin. Inside were Granny’s big grey clouds and the enormous one that had rained on the hens, folded up small. Nell tucked her own cloud in beside them, and Granny put the lid on.

Then Granny tucked Nell into bed, slowly, the way Granny did everything.

“Slow wheel, soft cloud,” said Nell, with a great big yawn.

The hens were asleep in the henhouse. The puddle lay still in the lane under the moon. Nell had spun a cloud for Bo, all by herself, and it had come out just right. She was proud, and she was warm, and she was very, very sleepy.

And before Granny had blown out the candle, Nell was fast asleep.