This was the first winter in Springville for Bud and his family. They had never struggled through a “rainy season”. At least not to the degree that they found this January….after weeks of minor floods and power outages.
The problem was: how do you make seasons work for you? Everyone knows how to use sunshine and snow…..He knew, having lived near the mountains where there was skiing and boarding, and living for a short time in the south, where there was plenty of sun and swimming.
He looked to the shelf above his bed at all of the books that he had been given to read when he was at loss for something to do. He thought; “That’s for days when I can’t get out and around.”
It was only this morning when his dad came home from a business trip, that the problem was addressed. After a large breakfast of pancakes, and a discussion of the whole predicament, that the solution may have arrived.
His dad said; “I know, let’s go and see what Uncle Brett is up to with this weather.” It was understood that he had unique situations during times of high water. His houseboat was located on the river, and often strange things happened as the result.
They both saddled up and drove to the parking lot above the Marina. Bud looked at the bridge to the dock, and exclaimed; ” Dad, look at this; The stair ramp used to angle down to the landing.. but now it is almost flat. The water is way up!…. What about Brett’s place?”
As they approached where it was docked… You could see that the lines that secured it had ridden half way up the pole. They could see the same condition along the many slips, where a couple of floating homes had actually come partially loose and were nesting out of whack in their spaces.
Bud knocked, and called at the door; “Anybody home?” No answer. And, his fishing boat was gone.
They were prepared to leave when Bud looked out into the channel; there was a cluster of motor boats, Brett’s included: tied off to a large boat/home that was being washed downstream in the strong current.
You could hear the motors winding up in an effort to move it back to shore, but they were just barely hampering it’s movement.
Bud’s dad had taken off toward the end of the pier where the office was. “Someone’s got to do something or it’s lost!” Bud said, as he signaled a drive-by boat to the dock. He had found a very long rope-line nearby and he handed it to the driver,
“Please take this this and see that it is tied off to that houseboat that is struggling out there, and tell everyone to try to aim it in this direction.”
Bud wound the rope around a stationary pier and tied it off. Soon there was a group of neighbors and sightseers that had assembled wondering what he was up to. He instructed them; ” Everyone pull on this and see if we can drag the houseboat to the dock. The sounds; “One, Two, Three……. Pull! began to turn the big house into the nearest dock. The sound of applause came from the people all around.
Within minutes the disaster became a celebration; people, including his Dad, shaking his hand and Brett patting him on the back.
Later, back home, lying on his back in his bed, he put down his notebook, and glanced up at his bookshelf with a sigh, and questioned; “Now why cant’t someone write a story like this?”
He smiled and followed with …….”Well someone just did, as he signed off the bottom.”
“Written by Bud Kirby”.
The next day at English class, his teacher, Mrs. Fletcher, rewarded him with his first A- plus for his “perfect story”.
Now, that will bring sunshine into any rainy day!
And, by the way, everything could have happened just like that. Who knows? Stories are like that, Rain is like that, the River is like that, and now Bud is like that.
A “seasoned” writer !