The Weather in the Jar

Marnie found the jar on the old potting-shed windowsill, behind a row of empty plant pots. It was hardly bigger than an apple, with a brass lid and a cloudy patch inside. Aunt Bea was sorting garden gloves. “Is this yours?” Marnie asked. Her aunt glanced over. “Not one of my jars.” Ori climbed onto the low bench to see. “Perhaps it’s got jam in it.”

Marnie turned it carefully. The cloudy patch drifted towards the glass, then pulled itself back into the middle. “It’s moving,” she said. Ori pressed his nose close. A tiny raindrop slid down the inside. Then another. “Definitely not jam.” Aunt Bea came to look. She wiped the outside with a cloth, but the small drops stayed where they were. For once, she did not have an explanation.

They carried the jar to the kitchen table. Marnie set it on a folded tea towel. Inside, the cloud grew darker, and a little gust rattled the brass lid. Ori put a toy boat beside it. “We could have weather for our games.” The boat remained perfectly still. The storm was trapped on the other side of the glass. Marnie watched the cloud press against the lid.

“Should we open it?” she asked. “What if we lose it?” Ori said. Aunt Bea turned the jar slowly. The cloud followed every movement, searching for the highest space. “It doesn’t seem very comfortable in there.” Ori looked at his toy boat. Then he pushed it aside. “Only outside,” he said. “I don’t want a thunderstorm over my breakfast.”

They took the jar into the garden. Aunt Bea stood beside them while Marnie loosened the lid. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a thin curl of mist rose from the opening, followed by the tiny cloud. It hovered above Marnie’s hand, almost touching the sleeve of her cardigan. Ori held his breath. One cold drop landed on his nose. He sneezed, and the cloud lifted.

Above the lemon tree, it spread until it was the size of a pillow. The breeze caught its ragged edge and carried it over the fence. Ori followed it with his finger. “It’s getting away.” Marnie put the brass lid in her pocket. “It’s going somewhere.” They watched until it became difficult to pick out among the larger clouds. Aunt Bea went back for her gloves.

Later, while they were planting seedlings, a brief shower swept across the garden. Ori looked up at the soft grey sky. “Do you think that was ours?” Marnie brushed a wet curl from her forehead. “It might have been.” He considered this for a while. “We could have kept it on the shelf.” “And you could have watched it rain on the same bit of glass forever.”

Before they went inside, Marnie rinsed the empty jar. Ori picked up a feather from beneath the lemon tree and placed it beside her. “For the jar?” she asked. He shook his head. “Just something to look at.” Marnie set both on the shed windowsill, with the lid resting loosely beside them. In the distance, a patch of sunlight moved slowly across the hills.