One warm autumn day a little girl dropped a seed into a hole in the ground, covered it up, and waited for her flower to grow. But before long the winter snows arrived, and left a thick white blanket all over the ground. The poor seed could not grow at all.

After waiting patiently for weeks and months, the little girl peeked outside her door and said, “Now, seed, hurry and grow, grow, grow, until you have a tall stem covered with pretty green leaves and big yellow blossoms.”

But the seed answered, “I am still icy and cold. You must ask someone else.”  “Who?” asked the little girl.

“The hard ground whose bed I lie in,” said the seed. “I will!”  cried the little girl.  “Ground, ground, won’t you grow soft, so my little seed can be warm, and grow into a flower?”

But the ground answered, “You must ask someone else.” “Who?” asked the little girl.

“The snow who covers me,” said the ground. “I will!” cried the little girl.  “Snow, snow, won’t you melt away, so the ground can grow soft, and my little seed can be warm, and grow into a flower?”

But the snow answered, “You must ask someone else.” “Who?” asked the little girl.

“The sun who melts me,” said the snow.
“I will!” cried the little girl.  “Sun, sun, won’t you come out, so the snow will melt, and the ground can grow soft, and my little seed can be warm, and grow into a flower?”

But the sun answered, “You must ask someone else.” “Who?” asked the little girl.

“The clouds that cover me,” said the sun. “I will!” cried the little girl.  “Clouds, clouds, won’t you go away, so the sun can come out, and the snow will melt, and the ground can grow soft, and my little seed can be warm, and grow into a flower?”

But the clouds answered, “You must ask someone else.” “Who?” asked the little girl.

“The wind that blows us,” said the clouds. “I will!”  cried the little girl.  “Wind, wind, won’t you blow, so the clouds will go away, and the sun can come out, and the snow can melt, and the ground can grow soft, and my little seed can be warm, and grow into a flower?”

But the wind whispered in her ear, “You must ask someone else.” “Who?” asked the little girl.

“God, who makes all things grow,” said the wind. “I will!” cried the little girl.  “I should have thought of that.”

So she got down on her knees, and folded her hands and prayed. “God,” she prayed, “won’t you tell the wind to blow, so the clouds will go away, and the sun can come out, and the snow can melt, and the ground can grow soft, and my little seed can be warm and grow into a flower?”

And God smiled down on the little girl.

She looked out her door again. A warm breeze played in the air. The clouds were gone, the sun was shining, the snow was melting, and the ground was turning soft and green.

And before long her flower came up.

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