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Chapter 1: The Rising Tide
The good neighbors sat on grass by the edge of the stream.
The sun was warm and a light breeze softly rustled the leaves of
the trees overhead. Leaning back against the gnarled trunk of
a friendly old willow, they lazily dipped their toes in and out of
the cool flowing water.
“That’s odd,” one of the neighbors said.
“What’s that?” replied the other.
“Isn’t that one of Possum’s jelly jars?” the first neighbor
asked lifting his foot from the water and pointing with his big
toe.
Looking out across the water, the other neighbor spotted a small
round object bobbing to and fro. It had a brightly decorated
lid over a fancy round glass container. It certainly did
resemble one of Possum’s signature jelly jars.
“Why yes! I do believe it is,” said the other.
“Shall we fetch it? It’s been a while since we’ve visited
with good old Possum. Returning her jar will be the perfect
excuse.”
Indeed it is always a pleasure to visit with Possum.
Because at her
lodge, one is always guaranteed a warm welcome and tasty
treats. When friends come to visit, Possum serves them
all of the biscuits and breads and cakes that they can possibly
eat. And she tops off these delightful baked goods with the
most delicious homemade jellies.
The jelly jar itself seemed to be in no hurry as it gently
drifted past them in the mild current and the good neighbors were
in no hurry to get up from their comfortable resting spot.
But thoughts of a visit with Possum soon got the best of
them. Reluctantly they stood and stretched and brushed
themselves off. Turning downstream, they began walking along
the water’s edge and it wasn’t long before they caught up again
with the floating glass object.
It had worked its way close enough to the shore so that with a
little help from a fallen branch, the good neighbors were able to
coax it to within reach. Raising it out of the water and
opening the lid, they found that the jar contained a small crumpled
piece of paper on which were the familiar scribbles of their dear
friend Possum. They did their best to decipher the marks.
“H E L P!” were the letters written at the top of the
note.
“Oh, goodness,“ it continued. “Water
rising. Possum in peril!”
No sooner had they read the last words than the good neighbors
were scrambling through the woods on their way to the rescue.
Next: Chapter Two: A Seafaring Possum
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