PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
For twenty-plus years, they’d lived each weekend at the cabin from spring to fall. Social distancing forgotten, they kayaked Duckweed Lake by day and listened to loons calling at dusk from the patio. Mid-October they winterized the place before heading back to Greenville for winter’s prison.
It’s April; time to go. Spring means high water — but it’s never been this high. They stunt drive the now deeply-gouged mud road their place sits on. Their driveway is impassible, so they slog along its 500-feet. She wails when she sees their refuge submerged up to the top step of the porch.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is the sunny host of Friday Fictioneers.