Sam was a junior high school student. He lived in a community in Charlotte and usually had little exposure to country life. So much of what he knew about plants came from text-books. Sam was a kind-hearted person. He longed for a chance to explore nature and he wanted to do his part to beautify the world.

Finally, the opportunity came. On Arbor Day (植树节), his class organized a trip to a local village to plant trees. Sam was excited about it and couldn’t wait to tell his mom the good news. So the next day, Sam and his mom went to buy some tools for planting trees, including a shovel(铲), a bucket, gloves and so on.

On the day of the event, Sam and his classmates arrived early at the starting point. It was a beautiful day and everyone looked particularly happy. With the tools in hand, Sam got into the bus with everyone else and headed off to their destination.

As soon as they reached the village, all the students were divided into three teams by their teacher. One team was responsible for planting the trees, one team for shovelling the soil and one team for watering the trees. At the teacher’s command, everyone started to do their job.

However, it was the first time that many of the students had taken part in planting trees, so they had no idea about how to start. Of course, Sam was one of them. Fortunately, their teacher was a middle-aged man from the countryside who had some knowledge of planting trees. In order to set an example to the students, the teacher started to plant trees himself. After watching the teacher plant the trees, everyone also became busy. Before long, they planted hundreds of trees. Sam watched very carefully, not wanting to miss any of the details. Finally, Sam learned how to plant trees by himself and felt happy.

A few days later, a storm damaged some young trees in the community.

The neighbours praised Sam for what he had done.

My teenage son, Jordan, always complained about having to be home earlier than all his friends. He would tell me that he was already seventeen, but still had a curfew (宵禁). He believed he was practically an adult. I pointed out that he was not an adult as he was still in high school.

“You don’t trust me!” he yelled. Before I continued, he rolled his eyes, slammed the door and walked away. I sighed. How could I make Jordan see that I only wanted to keep him safe?

I decided to go for a walk, hoping the December air would clear my head. I opened the front door and nearly stepped on her: a small black cat, just like a meatball. “Hi, Meatball,” I said, bringing her into my arms. I walked back in, touching her neck gently. Meatball seemed happy enough to come in the house, but after an hour or two, she sat by the door, meowing to go back outside.

“Why won’t she just stay in with us all the time?” Nathan, my youngest son asked.

I explained to him that she was happy here but she liked being able to come and go as she pleased.

“That must be nice,” Jordan muttered from the other room, complaining why the cat, not him, could come and go. He even asked me to give Meatball a curfew.

Meatball became a regular.

One night, temperatures were unusually low. Meatball stood at the door, meowing to go outside.

I shook my head at her, afraid that she might freeze to death. She stared at me and meowed again. I patted her head, “I know you’re not happy, but it’s for your own good.”

“Mom’s not being mean to you,” Nathan told the cat. “She’s just trying to keep you from turning into a frozen meatball.” We both laughed at his joke.

The next morning, I couldn’t find Meatball. I asked the kids if anyone had seen her.

Jordan nodded, “I let her out last night.”

As I drove to the animal hospital, Jordan sat in the back, holding Meatball inside his coat.

“Bang. . !” Sara pushed the door open. She threw her school bag onto the floor and called out, “I’m home!” No answer. The house was silent. It sounded empty, but she knew it wasn’t. Her mum and dad were working upstairs.

Sara got a glass of orange juice, went into the conservatory (玻璃房) and sat down in her favourite chair. The garden was still in the dark afternoon. On one side, her mum’s garden was neat and tidy with boring short grass, boring straight flowerbeds and boring straight paths. But on the other side, Sara’s Nature Garden looked wild and exciting with big dead sunflowers and tall grasses.

“Nobody is interested in me. Mum and dad only think about their work,” she thought sadly.

Then she recalled: One month earlier, she learned in a magazine that many dogs were abandoned because their owners got bored with them; One hour earlier, she saw a cute dog wagging its tail and licking her friend’s face.

Sara knew today was special. Today things were changing. She couldn’t wait any longer. It’s time to talk to her parents.

So Sara got up from her chair and climbed all the way to the loft (阁楼). “Mum, I want a talk.” said Sara. “Just a minute!” Her mum clicked on the keyboard, took off her glasses and turned to her daughter. Sara coughed, took a deep breath, and told her mum that she wanted a dog. “No, Sara. That’s impossible,” her mum said firmly. Sara went to her father but got the same answer. She rushed into her room angrily and slammed the door shut.

Later, Sara’s mum knocked at the door and went in. “Darling, we know this is important to you. You can have a dog if you take the responsibility. But look at your Nature Garden, your school bag, your bedroom! What a mess! Do you think you can take good care of a dog?” said her mum.

Sara was lost in thought and decided to make some changes.

With the dog’s company, Sara began her busy but joyful life.

I was eight years old and wasn’t aware of all the arrangements being made for our journey as a family to London in 1950. My mother was in great pain and wished to visit specialists in London. My father reluctantly had to sell our property in Queensland. The day before we boarded the ship, Father unwillingly said goodbye to his five-year-old cattle dog, Spider, who was loved by us all. Father’s friend Sandy was to be his guardian while we were overseas, as he had been getting to know Spider for many weeks.

Six weeks later, an airletter arrived from Sandy, giving my father the news that Spider had run away just two weeks after we had sailed. Sandy had advertised constantly on ABC and other regional newspapers. Despite many “sightings”, the dog was never found. It seems Spider just kept running and searching for us. As he was cattle dog, my father thought he would shoe or dingo-trapped, because of his appearance. But our family thought that Father held a secrets hope that Spider was still alive.

We sailed back to Australia two years later and re-established our home. My father immediately began his own search for Spider. One cold winter’s Saturday morning eight months after our return, my father had a call from an elderly lady living on her own on the outskirts of the town. As she told my father on the telephone, it was “just glimpses of a dingo-type dog in the shadows” of her disused tennis court. That was enough for my father to interrupt my homework.   

We set off in his blue and black Jensen car which he had brought back from England. It was hardly the right vehicle for the rough roads we travelled that day. Five and a half hours later, we found the run-down old property. Sadly, she told my father that the “dingo dog” hadn’t been around for a few days. My father had a strange look in his eye. He put two fingers to his lips and did his special whistle for Spider.

When Mary entered the south Pole Penguin Research Lab, she saw her friend Tom gently stroking (轻抚) a penguin in his arms. As children of the lab scientists, Mary and Tom often observed the emperor penguins that were studied to understand how they adapted to extreme temperatures —insights that could aid human survival.

“We’re thirteen, Tom. It’s time to grow up and stop playing with the lab penguins,” said Mary as she started cleaning. “They’re research animals, not pets.”

“But the birds listen to me1” insisted Tom, his breath forming a cloud in the freezing air. “You’re just trying to be a penguin whisperer again,” Mary replied, shaking her head with a gentle smile. The penguins seemed playful as they walked, dove, swam and chased their live fish for sport before eating.

Suddenly , an alarm rang out and red lights flashed , signaling a problem. The kids rushed over to look into it. “It’s colder than before —there’s ice forming on the water,” noted Tom. Though always cold, Mary had never seen ice here before. She checked the habitat monitor and found that the temperature had gone down a lot. “The heater must be broken!”

Mary quickly sent a message to their parents’ research team, who were conducting outdoor studies. With the adults away, the kids would have to deal with the freezing conditions until help arrived.

Time dragged as Mary and Tom anxiously waited. The increasing cold caused them to shake. “I wonder what emperor penguins do in extreme cold, since they stay in the Pole all winter instead of going somewhere warmer,” asked Mary. “They huddle (挤作一团), ” Tom answered. “They huddle together tightly so that the birds in the middle will be warm enough.” “What about the ones on the edge?” Mary asked. “They push their way towards the center, and then move back out to the edge, and struggle back again. Scientists in the early 21st century recorded it.” He replied as he stared at the large crowd of the penguins in the lab.

”I have an idea to stay warm1" Tom shouted excitedly.

Two and a half hours later , the parents returned with help.

The incident took place at Cheektowaga, a town in Erie County, New York, in the middle of a historic and dangerous snowstorm. I had gone out to visit my friend living in another county, but unfortunately I got stuck and was unable to drive further.

I fully realized how dangerous this would be as there was not enough gas left in the truck for me to get through the deadly snowstorm. The situation got even worse in such a place without any houses in sight.

I stayed in my truck, calling for help anxiously but the weak signal didn’t help me get connected. There was nothing I could do but wait. At midnight, there came a knock outside the truck. I opened the door and surprisingly found an old lady standing in the storm with just a thin coat, clearly not enough to survive the snowstorm. I invited her to get inside my truck at once. She told me in a weak voice that her name was Mary and her car broke down. She had walked a long way before finding my truck.

Misfortune never came alone. Soon, we realized the air conditioner burned all the fuel in my truck and it was getting colder and colder inside the truck. Mary closed her eyes without saying a word, shaking in the corner. Considering Mary’s condition, I decided to take action right now. Luckily, the GPS of my truck still worked. And with the help of GPS, I noticed that a school was nearby. I decided to take shelter in the school. Since Mary was too weak to move, I carried her on my back, heading to the school. After ten minutes’ struggle in the snow, we finally arrived, but found the school gate locked.

I hesitated about what I should do.

The next morning, a policeman drove by and found the gate broken.