wondering what miracle it possessed to be able to give life to the invisible seeds. He examined the thousands of spider web roots and thought of a fish backbone he had stepped on one evening while walking along the bay front.
Take back the unhappy moments and leave me only the good. Fly away words that make me sad and give me only the ones I want to hear. Leave me alone you people who do not understand, and surround me with those who do.
Gaylord Le Claire was not Gaylord Le Claire at all; he was part of the earth; part of a legend beautiful and mysterious; part of a sound of winds and images; part of the origin of things and their occult relationships to each other.
A sparrow chirped, followed by others; a flutter of wings shook in the tall trees …
"Hi, you: A penny for your thoughts."
Abruptly, Gaylord looked up into the sober eyes of Joy Clay. She was standing, smiling, behind him.
"Oh, Joy: You … what a pleasant surprise." He straightened his folded knees and arose. "What are you doing out of school?"
"I went this morning. I thought maybe you were sick when you didn't show up, so I just skipped my last two classes to come see you. I'm glad you're not sick."
"Never felt better … Just messing around in the yard a little. I was pulling out some of this winter grass."
"Your yard looks so pretty, Gay," she said, looking around.
"It does, doesn't it: We've got an awfully good gardener now and he really knows his job. I love to mess around in the soil …"
"I know … remember our mud pies we used to make?"
"Sure do … Kinda silly, weren't we?"
"I don't think so … Looking back now, I think those were my happiest days … you and I making mud pies."
He looked at her and his whole life swept before him again. Over and over memories shaped and spun out the substance of the past years; spun out the world of names, names of the different ones who had disliked him. The name of one who had rescued him from the feeling of being lost in a void of misunderstanding and darkness;
