The Tall Tree and the Tiny Moss

The sun woke up behind the quiet mountains. The morning mist floated over Lake Stevens like a big white blanket. Inside the warm house, little baby Shaurya opened his big brown eyes.

Blink, blink.

Mamma was smiling. Baba was smiling.

Good morning, sweet Shaurya, Mamma whispered.

Good morning, little explorer, Baba said with a happy chuckle.

Outside the window, the giant cedar trees were swaying very gently in the breeze. Swoosh, swoosh, went the green branches. Swoosh, swoosh. The trees looked like they were waving hello to Shaurya.

Shaurya wiggled his toes. He had on soft yellow socks. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle went his ten little toes. It was time for a morning walk in the Pacific Northwest woods.

Baba brought out Shaurya’s little blue shoes. Click, click, went the straps. Squeak, squeak, went the rubber soles on the wooden floor.

Mamma brought out Shaurya’s cozy red jacket. Zip, zip, zip went the zipper, all the way up to his chin. It was warm and snug.

Are you ready to see the big trees, Shaurya? Baba asked.

Shaurya clapped his hands. Pat, pat, pat!

Baba opened the front door, and a cool, fresh smell rushed in. It smelled like clean rain and sweet green cedar needles. Baba lifted Shaurya into his arms, and Mamma took Baba’s hand. Together, the three of them stepped outside into the yard.

Crunch, crunch, crunch. That was the sound of Baba’s boots walking on the damp gravel path.

Look up, Shaurya, Mamma said, pointing a finger toward the sky. Look how tall the tree is!

Shaurya tilted his head back. He looked up, and up, and up! The cedar tree was so very tall. Its top touched the low grey clouds. In Bengali, Mamma said, we call a tree a gaachh. Can you say gaachh? It is a big, strong gaachh.

Shaurya reached out his tiny hand. Baba carried him closer to the giant trunk.

Touch the bark, little one, Baba said softly.

Shaurya pressed his small palm against the wood. Scratchy, scratchy. It was rough and bumpy, like an old wooden spoon. The bark was brown and dry, keeping the big tree safe and warm.

Then, Shaurya saw something else on the tree trunk. Right down near the bottom, where the tree met the ground, there was a patch of bright, bright green.

Look there, Shaurya, Mamma whispered. That is moss.

Moss! Shaurya looked closely. It was not brown. It was green, as green as a sweet little pea.

Touch the moss, Shaurya, Mamma said.

Shaurya reached out one small finger. Tap.

It was not scratchy. It was not rough. It was soft! So soft, like a tiny velvet blanket.

Soft, soft, soft, Shaurya’s fingers patted the green moss.

Moss loves the cool rain, Baba explained with a smile. When the clouds give water, the moss drinks it up and stays green and fluffy all year long. It is like a tiny green pillow for the forest bugs.

Shaurya patted the moss again. Pat, pat, pat. Soft green moss.

Just then, high up in the cedar branches, there came a little sound.

Chirp, chirp! Chitter, chitter!

Who was that? Shaurya looked up.

It was a tiny brown squirrel with a big, bushy tail! The squirrel sat on a cedar branch, twitching its little black nose. Twitch, twitch, twitch went the nose. Fluff, fluff, fluff went the bushy tail.

The squirrel was holding something very small between its two front paws.

Look at his breakfast, Baba whispered. He has a pinecone!

The squirrel nibbled fast. Nibble, nibble, crunch! Nibble, nibble, crunch! Then the squirrel dropped a tiny piece.

Tup!

The little pinecone fell onto the soft grass right by Shaurya’s blue shoe.

Shaurya pointed his finger. Ah! he said.

Mamma bent down and picked up the little brown pinecone. She placed it gently into Shaurya’s warm mittens.

It was small, just the right size for a one-year-old hand. It was bumpy all over, with lots of tiny wooden scales. Shaurya rolled it between his hands. Roll, roll, roll. Bumpy pinecone!

One big tall tree, Mamma counted gently. One soft green patch of moss. One little brown pinecone.

Under the big cedar tree, there grew a cluster of giant ferns. The fern leaves spread wide like green feathery wings.

In Bengali, a leaf is called a pata, Mamma said, gently brushing a fern leaf against Shaurya’s cheek. Soft green pata.

Tickle, tickle, tickle! The tip of the green leaf tickled Shaurya’s nose.

Shaurya giggled. He reached out and grabbed the edge of the leaf. Shake, shake, shake!

On top of the fern leaf was a tiny round drop of morning water. Jol, Baba said. Clear, shiny jol.

When Shaurya shook the leaf, the little water drop rolled off. Plip! It landed right on the soft green moss below. The moss drank the water drop right up. Gulp!

Good job, little helper, Baba said softly, kissing Shaurya’s forehead. You gave the moss a drink.

Shaurya smiled big, showing his tiny little teeth.

Far away over the lake, a cool breeze blew through the misty evergreen needles. Shhh, went the wind. Shhh, went the forest.

Then, from the grey sky, tiny drops of rain began to fall. Not a big storm, just a gentle Pacific Northwest mist.

Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter.

Baba opened a big blue umbrella over their heads. Pop!

The raindrops danced on the umbrella. Tap, tap, tap, tap.

It was like a little drum playing just for Shaurya. Tap, tap on the umbrella. Swoosh, swoosh in the trees. Crunch, crunch under Baba’s boots as they turned around to walk back home.

Inside the warm house, the air smelled sweet and comforting. Mamma took off Shaurya’s red jacket. Zip, zip, down it went. Baba took off Shaurya’s little blue shoes. Off came the shoes, leaving the warm yellow socks.

Shaurya’s belly made a tiny rumble. It was time for lunch!

Mamma brought a little blue bowl to the high chair. Inside the bowl was warm yellow khichuri, made of soft rice and gentle yellow daal, with a tiny drop of golden ghee melted on top.

Mmm, it smelled so buttery and good.

Open wide, Shaurya, Mamma said, lifting the little spoon.

Yum, yum, yum. The warm khichuri tasted delicious and filled Shaurya’s tummy with warmth. One spoonful for the tall green tree. One spoonful for the soft green moss. One spoonful for the little brown squirrel.

Soon, the bowl was all clean.

Shaurya gave a big, long yawn. Yaaawn.

His little eyelids began to feel heavy. The morning walk in the forest had made him very, very sleepy.

Baba picked him up and rocked him slowly side to side. Rock, rock, rock.

Mamma began to sing a sweet, quiet Bengali lullaby. Her voice was like a warm blanket.

Sleep now, little Shaurya, Baba whispered. The big cedar trees are swaying in the mist. The soft green moss is resting on the bark. The little squirrel is tucked inside his cozy nest.

Shaurya laid his head against Baba’s shoulder. His little hand still held the tiny brown pinecone, safe and snug.

Outside, the soft rain whispered against the glass. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter.

Sleep, sweet baby. Goodnight tall tree. Goodnight soft moss. Goodnight little pinecone. Goodnight, Shaurya, you are so very loved.