dian paintbrush. The one I'm really dying to do is Mariposa lily"
"Mariposa lily?"
"M-mariposa's Spanish for butterfly—well, I guess you know that better than I do! White, with sort of faint lilac streaks—it's p-perfectly lovely. It's sort of hard to—it grows up in the m-mountains"
What's the matter with me, stammering this way?—she wailed to herself. But the thought of the luminous lilac-veined petals comforted her.
"I see. Flowers mean a great deal to you, just as they do to me. I've tried to express my love for them in some of my poems."
"Oh, I know! 'White lilac, delicate and cool,' and 'Heather in the mist,' and the one about the scarlet tulip being like the Holy Grail!"
"Those among others. I always have been passionately attached to 'green things growing.' I remember when I was tiny there was an old
