High on a cloudy hill, an old lady lived in a crumbling cottage. Every morning she patrolled her windows, hoping to spy neighbours. But years passed, and none came, and the views wore dim.
One day, her cupboards were bare. She searched her home but found only a thimble-full of flour and an old fishing net. She frowned; she had never seen the sea and had touched only rainwater. Clutching the net, she clambered onto the roof. Shoes clattering and legs trembling, she flung the net over a close cloud and dragged it inside. She unrolled it onto the kitchen table and watched it wobble. Then, with a pinch of the flour, she mixed it and kneaded it, divided it into bread tins, and put it on a high bake.