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Their house was built a few feet above the stream's surface height. It was made of pliant fibers, giving gently to the wind, the broad roof providing more than enough awning over the porch that surrounded the outer wall, a rattan wattle edging the space to waist level. Rice and water chestnuts and taro, water fowl and fish abounded. Life was good.
Winter brought a chill, and summer a warming balm, but neither ever reached too extreme a condition. Only the rainy season ever presented a problem — sometimes the stream would rise some, but that was alright: the house stood uphill from the stream's banks. That's why streams have banks, after all.
This year, as often happens, the stream was rising.
This year, however, the stream had already reached its typical high point and showed no sign of slowing the trend any time soon. That was alright, too: their home was surrounded by a continuous dike, to hold off the water in such an event.
Soon enough though, the rising waters breached the dike, and the yard filled rapidly. That was alright though: that was why the house had been built on pylons, its lowest floor higher still than even the top of the dike — though it also meant that the chickens had to be brought inside.
Eventually, even this level was reached, the waters now lapping at the very foot of their stairs.
One morning, looking out over breakfast, they saw that the entire dale had become flooded. This was a surprise. Not only was such a rise unusual indeed, they had also failed to notice its extent beforehand, given how slowly the rise had occurred.
All around was water, in every direction, unless you counted the fish net trailing from the downstream wall.
That was alright: the entire floor was built of bamboo, thick in design and buoyant enough to carry far more weight than required. They would come to rest somewhere after the waters receded, put down more pylons and a new dike, and see what new things and new neighbors their next homestead brought to their lives.
That's where the excitement and richness of life lay: where would they be, in the end, were the creek not to rise?
O ~~~ O