Nature

Spiders hide in corners, dark and small, Behind the curtains or up the wall, Sometimes up a waterspout they crawl, But never in your clothes, no, not at all! They’ll never slip into your cereal bowl, Or hide inside your shoes where toes go stroll, They’re busy making webs, that’s their goal, So don’t be scared, they’re in control! They twirl and spin where no one sees, In corners and shadows and under leaves, But never, oh never, will they sneak near your knees, So let those little spiders do as they please! ...

Once upon a time, in a bustling forest of towering trees and bright green leaves, there lived three stag beetle brothers named Stew, Stan, and Spike. They were known throughout the undergrowth for two things: the great antlered mandibles they carried on their heads, and the bond between them, which nothing had ever managed to break. Wherever one went, the other two were rarely far behind. One sunny morning their mother called them to her side. ...

Once upon a time, on a blisteringly hot summer afternoon, a lively young boy named Toby decided to go for a swim. The sun was baking the earth, and the river nearby looked like a shimmering ribbon of cool blue. Toby kicked off his sandals, ran down the grassy bank, and splashed straight in. At first it was wonderful. The water came up to his knees, and then to his waist. He splashed his face, chased a few silver minnows, and laughed as the cool current tickled his toes. ...

Somehow, one bright winter morning, a golden ray of sunlight managed to slip through the thick clouds and sparkle on the snowy ground. Beneath the snow, hidden deep and quiet, lay a tiny snowdrop bulb, dreaming of warmer days. It had been a long cold winter. When that bit of sunlight touched it, the little flower woke with a shiver. “Oh! Is it spring already?” it thought. It stretched and pushed, lengthening its stem as far as it could. It made a tiny hole through the snow, twisting and wriggling until, it burst through into the cold world above. ...

Far, far up north, where the sea wears a crown of frozen white, there lies a magical world made of drift ice. The wind whispers across the icy ocean, whoosh, whoosh, and beneath the chilly blue waves lives a creature so tiny and mysterious, she is called the fairy of the drift ice. Her name is Clione. But Clione wasn’t always the graceful dancer of the sea. Long ago, before she had wings and a shimmering glow, she was just a tiny jelly-like blob named Nio. She lived in the cold seas near Hokkaido, dreaming of exploring the world beyond. ...

In a meadow where the wildflowers danced and the sunbeams played tag with the shadows, two butterfly friends shared their daily adventures. Emerald, whose wings sparkled like dew on fresh leaves, was always ready to chase after the next exciting thing. Azure, whose wings shimmered like a summer sky, was thoughtful and careful, and always checked the wind before taking flight. Every morning they greeted each other with their special saying: “Shine bright, fly light!” And then they spent the whole day exploring their wonderful world together. ...

Once upon a time, in a lush green forest, there lived a mighty lion named Leo. He was king of that forest, and every creature in it both feared and respected him. But for all his size and all his roaring, Leo had a kind heart, and he valued friendship above everything else in the world. His closest friend was a clever monkey called Miko, who always had a trick or two tucked away and who loved nothing better than making the great lion laugh until the branches shook. ...

Once upon a time, high above the clouds, there lived a magnificent eagle named Aquila. Aquila was the undisputed king of the sky. His wings were as wide as a doorway, his talons were as sharp as steel, and his eyes could pick out a field mouse moving in the grass from miles and miles away. Every afternoon, Aquila flew to the highest, sharpest cliff in the valley. He would settle upon his rocky throne, puff out his chest, and survey the wide and beautiful land below with keen and lordly eyes. ...

Long ago, the colours of the world were not part of anything big or beautiful. They lived alone: each a single bold line stretched across their own corner of the world. Red glowed over deserts. Green shimmered in jungles. Blue waved over oceans. And the others, Orange, Yellow, Indigo, and Violet, each had their own faraway place to shine. Sometimes, the colours would swap places, zipping across the skies like streaks of paint. And sometimes, they would all find themselves drawn to the same place, right at the top of the world, the Arctic, where the ice sparkled like glass and the sky was wide and clear. ...

Once upon a time, in a tiny village snuggled between rolling green hills and a grumpy old forest, lived a boy named Barnaby. Barnaby was known far and wide, not for his jokes, not for his kindness, but for his bad habit. You see, Barnaby hated baths. Because of this, people gave him space. A lot of space. Even the village cats avoided him as he walked by. One crisp autumn day, while Barnaby was poking a stick into a puddle and humming to himself, a sudden gust of wind danced down from the hills. But this was no ordinary wind: it was the North Wind himself. ...