The Rain Barrel

In Grandmother Aigul's garden stood an old wooden barrel. When it rained, water ran from the roof down a gutter straight into it.

Her granddaughter Madina came to stay for the whole summer. On the very first day it rained, and Madina ran out onto the porch. The drops pattered on the leaves, the air smelled of wet earth, and a bright little stream gurgled from the gutter into the barrel. Bloop, bloop, bloop.

"Grandma, why catch the rain?" Madina asked. "There's a tap."

Grandmother smiled and wiped her hands on her apron.

"The tap takes water from the river," she said. "But the rain will fall anyway. It would be a shame to let it go to waste and just run off into the ditch. Better that it does some work in our garden."

Madina shrugged. It seemed to her there was plenty of rain in the world already.

But in July the heat came. The sun blazed from morning till night, the ground cracked, and the cucumber leaves drooped like tired little hands. A notice went up in the village saying that no one was allowed to water their gardens with a hose, or there wouldn't be enough water in the pipes for everyone.

"What do we do now?" Madina cried. "Our tomatoes will dry up!"

"And what do you think the barrel is for?" Grandmother winked.

Madina lifted the lid. The barrel was full to the brim. The water was warm and soft and smelled of wood. Madina filled the watering can and carried it to the beds. The can was heavy and water sloshed onto her feet, but Madina was having fun.

Every evening, when the sun grew gentle, Madina watered the garden from the barrel. The tomatoes turned red, the cucumbers hid under their broad leaves, and the flowers by the porch opened brighter and brighter. Grandmother said plants love rainwater more than cold water from the tap. It is warm and soft, just right for their roots.

One day Madina noticed the barrel was nearly empty. And she remembered that when it rained, water poured off the other side of the roof right onto the path and ran away into the ditch.

"Grandma, let's put out a second barrel!" said Madina. "Right where the water runs away."

"Now that's a real gardener talking!" said Grandmother happily.

They found an old barrel in the shed, scrubbed it clean with a brush, stood it on two bricks under the other slope of the roof and fixed a piece of gutter to it. Madina put the lid on herself, so no leaves would fall in and no mosquitoes could get inside. Madina named the new barrel Little One and the old one Granny's, and Grandmother laughed for a long time.

Now the rain worked for the whole garden. One barrel watered the vegetables, and the other watered the flowers and the young apple trees.

Then, one evening at the end of August, a warm little rain began. Madina and Grandmother sat on the porch wrapped in one blanket, drinking raspberry tea. Warm steam rose over the beds, and the air smelled of dill and wet mint. The drops tapped softly on the lids of the two barrels, and little streams gurgled into both of them. The garden was storing up its drink for tomorrow.

"Hear that?" whispered Grandmother. "The rain is saying thank you for not letting it get lost."

Madina listened to the tapping until her eyes began to close.

Goodnight.