Three sparrows shelter beneath a low roof of overlapping blue umbrellas as rain drips around the dry opening.

A PICTURE BOOK

Ivy and the Umbrella Garden

Get comfortable, then turn the page when you’re ready.

3 min read6 pages

You can listen to each page as you read.

Want to read it all at once? Open the whole story below.

Read the whole story

Ivy and the Umbrella Garden

Inside a garden shed, Ivy leans toward a bucket of patterned old umbrellas while Grandpa opens the door to blue rain outside.

Ivy had a yellow umbrella with one bent spoke. In the rain, that side drooped over her shoulder like a sleepy ear.

One wet morning, Ivy and Grandpa walked to the community garden. The beds were too soggy for digging, so Grandpa opened the shed for them to wait.

Inside, Ivy found six old umbrellas in a tall bucket. One was striped. One had tiny ducks. One was small enough for a doll.

“Why do we keep broken umbrellas?” Ivy asked.

Grandpa crouches beside Ivy at the shed door and points toward sparrows sheltering under a rain-soaked bean trellis.

Grandpa pointed outside. Three sparrows hopped beneath the dripping bean trellis.

“Sometimes a dry corner is useful,” he said.

Ivy looked at the empty patch beside the shed. “Could the umbrellas make a dry corner?”

Grandpa smiled. “Let’s see.”

Grandpa steadies a bucket of umbrellas as a striped umbrella tips over and a duck-patterned umbrella falls onto it; Ivy laughs nearby.

They carried the umbrellas outside. Grandpa pushed their handles into a big tub of sand. Ivy opened the striped one first. It tipped sideways, and the duck umbrella landed on top with a plop.

“That is not a roof,” Ivy said, laughing.

Grandpa holds two large umbrellas together overhead while Ivy ties her yellow umbrella to the shed door handle.

They tried again. Grandpa held the biggest umbrellas low, with their edges touching. Ivy placed the little umbrella at the front.

Then she tied her yellow umbrella to the shed handle with a piece of string. Its bent spoke left a small gap at one side.

The sparrows came closer. One hopped under the umbrellas. Then two more squeezed in behind it.

Rain slid off the edges and pattered onto the ground all around their dry little shelter.

Grandpa smiles beside the completed umbrella shelter while Ivy holds her folded yellow umbrella near the shed door; small birds sit inside the shelter.

Soon, a ladybug crawled onto a dry plant pot. A snail tucked under a leaf. Ivy sat on an upside-down bucket and watched the busy little visitors.

When the rain stopped, sunlight made drops sparkle on every umbrella. Ivy carefully closed her yellow one.

“Its sleepy ear made a doorway,” Grandpa said.

Ivy looked at the little shelter, full of chirps and tiny footsteps. “Then it is a very good umbrella,” she said.