The Wonders of Rain

           It had been a dry summer in the desolate town of Maroon Gulch, an old mining town fifty miles from the nearest city. People in this town were used to the arid climate, but this year had been particularly dry.

           Vegetation was slim apart from cactus and tumbleweeds, and a large greenhouse owned by a horticulturalist named, Lawrence Peabody, a forty-something loner who devoted his life to growing and cultivating all the town’s produce.

           Mister Peabody was also a self-proclaimed inventor, though not many of the town folk took him seriously. His inventions from the past had all been failures. He once invented a device that would act as an artificial sun, but there was little use for it out in the desert. He also made a machine that take fresh eggs from a hen, and fry them up automatically, but that invention wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Most of the fried eggs had pieces of shell in them.

           My name is Harvey Simpson. I started helping Mister Peabody at his greenhouse after I graduated college last year. People thought I was crazy to come back to Maroon Gulch after getting a college degree, but this is where my family is, and it is home to me. Even my parents tried to convince me to find work in the big city, but I dreaded the thought of the hustle and bustle of city life.

           My degree in Horticultural Science came in handy because Mister Peabody’s methods were a little unorthodox. He learned most of his skills from his father and his father’s father. None of them had ever studied cultivating in school. It was a family trait that was passed down through generations.

           Between the two of us, we managed to keep the town fed, but we knew that there had to be a more efficient way of doing things. Our process was slow and even though we only had one store in town that sold our produce, people still need to ration their meals.

           In college, I had learned a little about chemistry and started experimenting in the greenhouse one day. I tried putting small doses of an enhanced fertilizer in various planters. The vegetation seemed to grow larger and fuller, but not faster.

           It was almost July 4^th, and the town was preparing for the annual fireworks celebration. Even Mister Peabody had a crate filled with Roman candles, Rockets, Skyrockets, and M-80 firecrackers stored inside the greenhouse. It was the one time of year that he pulled himself away from his work.

           The day of the big celebration, I was working in the greenhouse, and I felt that I was so close to having the formula that I needed to speed up the growth rate of our produce. Then the inevitable happened. As the beaker filled to the top with my formula, I reached for my digital recorder so I could make audio notes, but as I turned back around, my elbow struck the beaker, tipping it over. The blue liquid poured across the table and trickled over the edge, landing on top of Mister Peabody’s crate of fireworks. I quickly scooped up what remained on the table and prayed that I did not ruin the fireworks. Mister Peabody would be so disappointed if they no longer worked.

           I poured the remaining formula into a test tube and saved it until I could produce more. Mister Peabody walked in and gathered up his crate. I followed him outside and helped him set up his fireworks display before the sun went down.

           Darkness fell, and across the town, the residents started firing their fireworks into the sky. Massive multiple-colored explosions lit up the night sky. Young children stared in amazement at the sight with their mouths hanging open. Other kids danced around while swinging sparklers in their hands.

           Dogs ran for cover under porches or inside houses out of fear of the loud noises. Mister Peabody was giddy with excitement as he lit the first fuse. Five seconds later, the rocket shot high into the sky and exploded into an array of red lights. It was followed by another twenty fireworks before the sky fell back into darkness. I was glad my formula did not ruin his fun. I would not have forgiven myself if I spoiled his special day.

           We cleaned up our mess and brought it back into the greenhouse as the rest of the town returned to their homes for the night. I said goodnight to Mister Peabody and headed home as well.

           I had just dozed off to sleep when I could have sworn, I heard thunder in the sky above. I waited a few seconds and heard it once again. Soon after, I heard raindrops splattering across my windowpane. It hadn’t rained in months, so this was an unexpected pleasure. I looked out my bedroom window, and the sky was filled with thick rain clouds. I crawled back into my bed and eased back to sleep with the calming sound of the rain.

           Morning came sooner than I expected, and it took me a few minutes to get my bearings before I got out of bed. I sat up, placed my bare feet on the floor and slowly stood, stretching with my arms high above my head. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and walked toward the window.

           After focusing my blurry eyes, I stood shocked at the sight that was before me. I quickly threw on some clothes and ran downstairs. My mother was in the kitchen and asked me what I wanted for breakfast, but I ran past her and out the front door without saying a word.

           I reached the front yard and looked around in every direction. What was once dirt or dried up grass, was now lush green fields as far as I could see. Some of my neighbours began leaving their homes and stared at this strange spectacle that had taken over their town. The main street was now covered in a path of green grass and white daisies.

           I ran to the greenhouse and Mister Peabody was already there taking samples of the soil, trying to determine what could have caused this phenomenon. That was when it occurred to me that the formula that was spilled onto the fireworks must have been spread into the atmosphere and formed the magical rainclouds that caused this. I shared my discovery with Mister Peabody, and before long the whole town knew. All the townspeople gathered by the town hall and listened as we explained what had happened. Our dried-up town was never going to have to face a drought again.

           One of my neighbours suggested to the mayor that we rename the town since Maroon Gulch made little sense in a town so full of life. The mayor agreed and to my surprise, it was unanimously renamed, “Harveytown” for my contribution to its rebirth.

           A party was held in my honour that night and everybody in town attended. I was overwhelmed. I began to think of what would have happened to the lives of this people if I would have listened to everyone and stayed in the city.