Moira ran thru the glen, giggling
with joy because it was springtime. Nothing made her happier than seeing
the flowers in bloom, hearing the birds chirping in the budding trees,
smelling raindrops as they pitter-pattered on the leaves, and feeling the
velvet touch of a rose petal.
"What are you so happy about?"
croaked Finlay, the frog.
"Itís spring! Isnít it pretty?" she
laughed, bending down to sniff a tiny purple violet that was just
beginning to open its petals.
"I donít like spring!" Finlay
"Why not? Itís the most beautiful
time of year," Moira said.
"I donít like flowers. There are
flowers everywhere," Finlay scowled.
"Arenít they lovely? My favorite is
the lady slippers. Theyíre so pretty and pink."
"Pink isnít pretty to me. I like it
better when itís brown and no flowers are around," growled Finlay.
"Well, I love flowers and I love
pink and Iím not going to let a grumpy frog ruin this beautiful spring day
for me," Moira said and ran towards a patch of bright yellow daffodils.
She pulled one over and took a deep sniff out of the flowery trumpet. "Mmmm,
that smells wonderful," she smiled. A bird began to chirp. Moira looked up
into the tall trees surrounding her. "Sing me a song, pretty bird," she
called. The bird began to tweet and warble.
"I donít like listening to birds
sing," Finlay croaked.
"What are you doing here?" Moira
"I am headed for the stream. Youíre
in my way!" he snarled.
"Why donít you stay and listen to
the bird sing? Itís singing a lovely melody."
"I donít like birds singing and I
donít like flowers. Now, get out of my way!" Finlay hopped past Moira and
headed for the stream.
"Ignore him, little bird. Heís a
grumpy frog. Sing me another song," she pleaded. She sat on a stone and
listened to the bird until it flew off to gather sticks to build a nest
"I love springtime. Oh look, thereís
a rosebush." Moira ran through the tall grass and climbed up the thorny
stem. "Nothing smells as pretty as a red rose in springtime. The petals
are so soft," she said, rubbing them against her furry cheek.
Finlay shook the rose bush and Moira
tumbled to the ground, landing on top of a dandelion. "Why did you do
that?" she asked, sitting up and rubbing her sore head.
"I donít like roses. I donít like
flowers at all," he answered.
"Youíre a grumpy frog. Why donít you
just go back to the stream and let me enjoy springtime," Moira pleaded.
Just then it began to sprinkle. Raindrops fell from the puffy white clouds
and splattered on the ground. "Rain! Letís hide under this mushroom."
Finlay didnít move. He stood in the
grass and let the raindrops kerplop on his head. "I like the rain. It
makes my skin feel moist and refreshed. Maybe spring isnít so bad after
all," he croaked and hopped around the glen, laughing with joy.
Moira watched him and started to
giggle. "Even a grumpy frog like Finlay can find something wonderful about
springtime," she said. When the rain stopped she picked up an armful of
lady slippers and ran through the wildflowers. "I love spring!"