Tavi Tickles the Rain — Every day, when the noon sun baked the cactus basin until the rocks smelled dusty and hot, Tavi lined up pebbles beside a saguaro and practiced brave jokes for the rain bell. Read the full story →
Every day, when the noon sun baked the cactus basin until the rocks smelled dusty and hot, Tavi lined up pebbles beside a saguaro and practiced brave jokes for the rain bell. The bell hung on the highest rib of Old Tall-Arm, and nobody rang it unless a storm was close. Tavi could juggle pebbles, squeak like a kangaroo rat, and make lizards snort—but climbing up to the bell made his knees fizz.
Until one day, a cloud no bigger than a bath sponge drifted down wearing silver spectacles. “Inspection!” it squeaked, dripping on Tavi’s nose. Because of that, Tavi sneezed so hard his pebbles popped into the air. Because of THAT, the cloud laughed, bumped the rain bell, and woke every cloud over the basin at once. Plip! Plap! Rain fell while the sun kept shining, and a giant rainbow sprang over the saguaros like a prank too big to hide.
Tavi gulped, climbed Old Tall-Arm, and tapped the bell once on purpose. Ding! The little cloud stamped a soggy checkmark in the air. Next time you spot the tall cactus under the rainbow, see if you can find where Tavi’s knees stopped fizzing beside the dusty, hot rocks.
