Chapter 1: A Picnic Forecast of Trouble

Nutville had been trying to have its Big Breezy Picnic for six days.

On Monday, it rained on the sandwiches. On Tuesday, the wind stole all the napkins and one uncle. On Wednesday, the sun got so hot that Mrs. Hedgehog's lemonade turned into warm lemon sadness. On Thursday, a surprise fog rolled in and everybody accidentally picnicked in the mayor's tulips. On Friday, nothing terrible happened until a goose sat in the potato salad and refused to apologize.

By Saturday morning, the entire town was grumpy.

"I have made three potato salads," moaned Mrs. Hedgehog.

"I have chased seventeen runaway tablecloths," said Tony the Delivery Fox, who was still holding one in his teeth.

Mayor Buttersworth stood on a stump with a dramatic umbrella. "Citizens of Nutville! We cannot be defeated by WEATHER!"

A gust of wind turned his umbrella inside out and carried his speech notes into a puddle.

"We are being defeated by weather," Mama Nutwobble said.

Nutty was already scribbling in his notebook. He loved a problem, especially if the problem was large, noisy, and trying to blow pie off a table.

Papa Nutwobble looked up from the emergency picnic basket. "Maybe we should eat indoors."

The entire town gasped as if Papa had suggested eating pinecones for dessert.

"Indoors?" cried Nutty. "The Big Breezy Picnic is a PROUD OUTDOOR TRADITION."

"Also," said Mama, peering into the basket, "you packed eleven kinds of snack and a celebratory pudding. We are clearly committed."

Nutty flipped to a clean page and wrote in giant letters:

PROJECT: TELL THE SKY WHAT TO DO

Papa leaned over his shoulder. "Can we tell it to be seventy-two degrees, lightly breezy, and strongly snack-friendly?"

"Absolutely," said Nutty, who had not yet considered whether skies accepted instructions.

Mama grinned. "We're building a weather machine, aren't we?"

Nutty's tail sprang straight up. "A Weather Wobble Machine! It will sort out the clouds, calm down the wind, and politely inform the rain that the potato salad has suffered enough."

Grandma Nutwobble, who had arrived carrying a folding chair and a suspiciously heavy toolbox, narrowed her eyes. "The weather is not known for politeness."

"This machine will be extra polite," Nutty said.

"That should help," Grandma said in a voice that meant the opposite.

They hurried to the old mill workshop, where inventions were born, tested, celebrated, repaired, regretted, and occasionally chased out with a broom.

Nutty drew a tower on the chalkboard with arrows pointing everywhere.

"Observe!" he announced. "The machine will have:"

• a cloud comb
• a breeze funnel
• a sunshine dial
• a drizzle canceler
• a lightning discourager
• and, just in case, an emergency rainbow whistle

Papa raised a paw. "What does the rainbow whistle do?"

Nutty considered this. "I don't know, but it feels important."

Mama dumped a pile of supplies on the workbench: brass pipes, kites, bicycle bells, weather vanes, soup strainers, and three umbrellas that had given up on dignity.

Tony dragged in a wheelbarrow full of fans. "I found these behind the skating pond."

Mrs. Hedgehog arrived with a crate of labeled jars. "I have brought sample weather," she announced.

Nutty blinked. "Sample weather?"

She held up the labels proudly.

• Fog-ish
• Breezy, Medium
• One Loud Thunderclap
• Mostly Tuesday

Papa nodded. "Very scientific."

By lunchtime, the workshop looked like a storm had gotten a job in a hardware store.

Nutty stood on a stool and tightened a bolt the size of a biscuit. "Tomorrow, Nutville will picnic in perfect weather!"

Outside, a raindrop fell. Then a sunbeam landed on Papa's nose. Then a leaf spun sideways in a warm gust while someone in the distance shouted, "WHY IS IT HAILING ON ONLY MY HAT?"

Grandma looked toward the window. "The sky heard you," she said.

Nutty smiled bravely. "Good," he said. "Now it knows we're serious."

Chapter 2: Buttons for Breezes

The next morning, Nutty unveiled the Weather Wobble Machine.

It was taller than Papa. It hummed like a beehive wearing roller skates. It had six levers, nine dials, one emergency teacup holder, and a sign that read:

PLEASE DO NOT PUSH ALL BUTTONS AT ONCE

Papa read the sign twice. "That feels specifically directed at somebody," he said.

"At everybody," said Nutty.

Mama bounced in place. "Let's weather!"

Nutty adjusted his goggles and pointed to the control panel. "Blue button for sunshine. Silver lever for breezes. Green dial for grass-friendly moisture. Yellow crank for cheerful cloud spacing."

"And the red trumpet-shaped button?" Tony asked.

Nutty coughed. "That is the emergency rainbow whistle."

Mrs. Hedgehog unfolded her clipboard. "For the official record, has this machine been tested?"

Nutty looked offended. "Of course."

"How many times?"

"I wiggled the fan yesterday," he said.

Grandma made a small noise in her throat that sounded like a squirrel saying hmmmmm no.

Still, the whole town gathered in the picnic field. Blankets were spread. Sandwich towers were stacked. The potato salad sat under guard.

Nutty placed one paw on the silver lever. "Commencing gentle festive breeze!"

He pushed.

At first, it worked beautifully. A little breeze rustled the leaves. The tablecloths fluttered politely. Mayor Buttersworth's sash billowed in a heroic way he had clearly practiced in a mirror.

Then Mama shouted, "A little more!"

Nutty gave the lever an extra nudge.

The breeze turned into a whoosh. Then a swish. Then a full-on WOBBLE-WIND.

Napkins blasted into the sky like startled doves. Five paper plates whirled past the bakery. Papa grabbed the potato salad with both paws and yelled, "NOT AGAIN!"

"Dial it down!" cried Tony, chasing a sandwich.

Nutty spun the yellow crank instead.

Instantly, a puff of sunshine burst through the clouds over the picnic field.

Only over the picnic field.

Everywhere else turned drizzly.

Mrs. Hedgehog stood ankle-deep in rain while the mayor remained in a perfect sunbeam two feet away.

"I am being weathered unevenly!" she shouted.

Nutty scrambled across the platform, flipping switches and muttering. "No problem! Tiny calibration wobble!"

He tapped the green dial.

Snowflakes began drifting softly onto the lemonade stand.

The squirrels stared.

"Is... is that snow?" Papa asked.

"Only on the beverages," said Mama.

Children cheered and started catching snowflakes in cups of lemonade, which turned them into very confusing slush.

The machine rattled proudly as if this had been the plan all along.

Grandma marched over and squinted at the pipes. "You have crossed your breeze tube with your cloud noodle."

Nutty gasped. "The cloud noodle?"

"Technical term," Grandma said.

She thumped the side with a wrench.

The machine hiccuped. A tiny rainbow appeared over the potato salad. The wind stopped. The sun moved to the pudding table. And somewhere behind the bandstand, one lonely thunderclap shouted, "BONK!"

Everyone froze.

Nutty slowly smiled. "Good news," he said. "It definitely responds to things."

Chapter 3: Sunny Here, Snowy There

By afternoon, Nutville was divided into seven weather zones.

The pie table had become tropical. The beanbag toss was experiencing autumn. The mayor's stump was stuck in dramatic sunset. The parking area had fog so thick that three bicycles introduced themselves to each other. And the lemonade stand was still snowing gently on the cups.

Nutty ran from lever to lever. "Nobody panic! This is advanced forecasting!"

"This is advanced nonsense!" shouted Mrs. Hedgehog, scraping hail out of her bonnet.

Papa had become the unofficial snack protector. He sprinted from blanket to blanket covering food with lids, bowls, baskets, and once, by mistake, his own hat.

Mama loved it for the first five minutes.

"Look! I can race from sunshine into snow into wind into fog!" she yelled, zooming across the field and coming back wearing a leaf, two snowflakes, and somebody else's ribbon.

Then the machine accidentally created one very determined mini-cloud that began following her around like a grumpy pet.

"Why is it only raining on ME?" Mama cried.

"It thinks you're the weather leader," Nutty called back.

"Tell it I resign!"

Meanwhile, Tony the Delivery Fox was trying to move picnic baskets out of the windy section. Every time he crossed into the tropical zone, the butter melted. Every time he crossed into the snowy zone, the butter became a brick again.

"This is exhausting for the butter," he said.

Nutty opened the side panel and stared at the wires. Inside were tubes labeled:

• Regular Air
• Fancy Air
• Extra Fancy Air
• Do Not Cross with Weather Juice

Three of them were crossed.

He swallowed. "Small update! The machine is currently mixing weather feelings."

Grandma folded her paws. "Yes. The sky is confused."

Mayor Buttersworth, who had been enjoying his private sunset, finally noticed the problem had spread to the brass band. Their tubas had become so slippery with mist that one rolled downhill into the kite contest.

He climbed onto the stump again. "Citizens! Stay calm! Remain in your assigned weather emotions!"

"We don't have assigned weather emotions!" yelled somebody from the fog zone.

"Well, perhaps we should!"

Nutty rubbed his head. He had wanted perfect picnic weather. Instead he had created a place where you could get sunburned and pelted by sleet while trying to carry coleslaw.

That was when Mrs. Hedgehog, who remained practical even under sideways drizzle, pointed across the field.

"Nutty," she said, "where are all the umbrellas?"

Everyone looked.

The umbrellas were rolling away in a giant cluster, pushed by a gust from the machine.

They were headed for town.

"Oh, acorns," whispered Papa.

Chapter 4: The Great Umbrella Stampede

The runaway umbrellas bounced down Walnut Lane like a herd of very dramatic mushrooms.

"After them!" cried Mama, charging ahead with her personal rain cloud still following her.

Nutty and Papa raced after the umbrella stampede while the machine kept sputtering in the picnic field. Every few seconds it blasted out another weather mistake. A warm breeze hit the bakery. A pile of autumn leaves landed on the library roof. A tiny rainbow flashed inside the hardware store and startled Mr. Mole into buying six garden hoses he did not need.

Tony blew his whistle. "Loose umbrellas! Loose umbrellas!"

This announcement made no practical difference, but it felt responsible.

The umbrellas rolled past the post office, swept through the fountain square, and spun straight toward the bandstand just as the junior kazoo orchestra began its afternoon performance.

The first umbrella popped open. Then six more. Then all of them.

WHOOMPH!

Suddenly the whole street was full of bouncing open umbrellas skittering along the cobblestones like polite but determined jellyfish.

Children cheered. Grown-ups ducked. Papa jumped and caught one with each paw and one somehow with his tail.

"I have never felt more useful!" he shouted.

Back at the picnic field, the machine made a noise like a teapot sneezing. Nutty skidded to a stop. "It's building to something!"

"That is not a comforting sentence!" yelled Mrs. Hedgehog.

Nutty studied the gauges. The breeze meter was spinning. The cloud comb was jammed. The sunshine dial was blinking the word WHOOPS in little yellow letters.

"I need to shut it down!" he said.

Grandma handed him the wrench. "Use the main bolt. Not the rainbow whistle."

"Why not the rainbow whistle?"

"Because I do not trust anything named after its own side effect."

Nutty scrambled up the ladder as wind, drizzle, and confused sunshine fought overhead. Mama arrived, soaked on one side and dusty on the other. Papa stacked captured umbrellas in a pile. Tony held the ladder steady. The whole town looked up.

Nutty reached the top and put the wrench on the giant wobble bolt.

The machine shook. The sky wiggled. The little rain cloud over Mama's head made one final rude sploosh.

"Now, Nutty!" shouted everyone.

Nutty tightened the bolt.

The machine shuddered... whistled... bonked...

and shut off.

Instantly, the wind settled. The snow stopped. The fog lifted. The sun slid behind a regular ordinary cloud like it had been there the whole time.

The town stood in surprised silence.

Then one slow, natural breeze moved through the trees. It flipped exactly one napkin.

Papa smiled. "That one seems reasonable."

Chapter 5: Let the Sky Be Silly

The Big Breezy Picnic finally happened that evening.

Not in perfect weather. Not in machine weather. Just in regular Nutville weather, which turned out to be mostly pleasant with a few dramatic opinions.

A little wind fluttered the blankets. A few clouds drifted past. One raindrop landed in the pudding and was ignored.

"This," said Mrs. Hedgehog, sitting down with her third potato salad, "is completely acceptable."

Nutty looked around the field. Everyone was laughing again. The umbrellas were stacked properly. The band had resumed playing. Mama's personal rain cloud was gone. Papa was eating in a calm and organized way, which for him counted as a miracle.

"I was trying to help," Nutty said.

Mama squeezed his shoulder. "You did help. We learned something important."

"Never cross the cloud noodle with the weather juice?" he guessed.

"Also that," said Grandma. "But mostly this: the sky already knows how to be silly without your assistance."

Papa nodded. "And honestly, a picnic with one gust, two crumbs, and a medium amount of confusion is still a very good picnic."

Mayor Buttersworth climbed onto the stump one last time. "Citizens! By my official powers as mayor, I declare this picnic a complete success and only a moderate meteorological embarrassment!"

Everyone cheered.

Nutty smiled and pulled a small lever on the now-quiet machine. A tiny paper sign popped out of the side.

It read:

OUT OF ORDER UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

Then, underneath in smaller letters:

MAY STILL MAKE RAINBOWS SOMETIMES

Papa pointed. "Keep that part."

And because Nutville believed in second chances, snacks, and carefully supervised nonsense, they did.