Voyage on Dewdrop Lake

A curled-leaf boat, a petal sail, and the entire morning dewdrop as an ocean. Fictional lore.

The lake

Every morning, dew gathers on the great leaf at the garden's heart into a sparkling sea — Dewdrop Lake, glittering, vast (to the tiny), and until that first frost, unsailed. Crispin had been eyeing it for weeks. "It's not a puddle," he announced. "It's an ocean that hasn't met me yet."

The ship

Built in a single afternoon, to Crispin's exacting specifications (enthusiasm): a hull of curled leaf, sealed with spider-silk; a mast of twig; a sail of rose petal; a crew of one sprite, one ladybug (first mate Pip), and forty beetles shouting encouragement from the shore. Christened the S.S. Probably Fine.

The voyage

Crispin sailed it end to end — the whole glittering expanse — while Moss the frog watched like a whale and the garden held its breath. Midway across, the petal sail caught a real breeze and the little ship flew for a heart-stopping moment, skipping across the dewdrop like a stone. Crispin's log entry: "WHEEEEEE."

He made landfall to a hero's welcome, immediately began planning a bigger boat, and was talked out of it by Old Tansy, who pointed out that the lake evaporates by noon. "Then I'll sail faster," said Crispin. The garden is watching the skies.