Adventures of Jack Sprout in Beaver Creek Meadow by Jack Shoop

Author:Jack Shoop
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: EDU010000, EDUCATION / Elementary, life lessons, children, Pre-K, education, schooling, Jack Sprout, storybook, chapter book
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2013-04-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Jack Sprout’s House-Raising

In chapter 7, Captain Berry took me to see Oliver Otter to get river rocks for my greenhouse floor. It wore me out loading all of the round smooth rocks from Big River. “Hard work never hurt anyone” is what I’ve been told around here. It’s been quite an adventure getting all the different building materials I need.

It’s finally time to have a house-raising party to build my farmhouse and greenhouse! All of my friends and neighbors here in and around Beaver Creek Meadow will be there.

I have the river rock, lumber, wood workers, seed, soil expert and the heavy lifters. Hopefully, the building will go as planned and no one will get hurt in the process.

I hurried over to Pierre Le Tru’s Power Paddle, to see if he had drawn up the plans for my farm.

“Hi, Jack Sprout, good to see you. Did you get the river rock like I told you?” asked Pierre.

“I sure did. It’s the hardest work I’ve ever done.”

“Your farm will be worth all the hard work when it’s finished. I think you’ll like the plans I’m drawing for you. Here, let me lay them out.”

Finally, I get to see what my farm will look like! We laid out the plans and looked them over. Pierre had drawn lines, angles with numbers, arrows and all sorts of directions for a builder to follow. But I’m not a builder and couldn’t make heads or tails out of the drawings.

“I can’t tell anything by these plans, Pierre. I’d like to see a picture; that’d be better for me.”

“Well, we’d better get an artist because I can’t draw pictures. Can you?”

“I can see the picture of my farm in my head,” I said, “but I can’t draw either. Who do we get?”

“There’s an artist that the dragonfly glassblower Won Lung uses to design his stained glass windows. He creates beautiful scenes of the countryside and will be able to paint you a picture from these plans.”

“Sounds good; what’s his name?”

“He’s a shiny brown mink we call Cobley. He wears a red beret and carries around a paint brush or two. Cobley came here a couple of years ago and has added a lot of color to Beaver Creek Meadow. His burrow is in the West Woods north of Dr. Ann Wheatfield’s by the Westside Creek. Hurry; let’s get this thing on the road.”

I took a short-cut across the meadow and ran all the way to Cobley’s burrow. I found a sign just past Dr. Ann’s lane which said, “Cobley-Artist in Residence.” I was almost out of breath when I knocked on his front door. There was no answer. I knocked again and still no answer so I yelled, “Hey, Cobley! Cobley! Hey, Cobley!” with all the breath I had left!

Then from overhead I heard, “Hey, quit yelling, will ya? I’m trying to think up here!”

Looking up, I saw a furry critter lying flat on a branch looking out over the meadow.

“What are you doing up there?” I asked.

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