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“In the midst of the Cairo's hay, come the old barns full of its lumber.” This small patch of green leaves a little beauty on a truly black and white suburban landscape. At the limit of the lawn is a moss-covered stump - a menace to the turf. Perfectly conceal it with this aged barn front, a faithful copy of the original found in the countryside. No doubt about the authenticity; it will be unrecognizable to the casual observer.

“I sit and look at the vegetable patch, at the geometrical forms of vegetables, all the colors of the vegetable.” What could be more fitting than the interplay between the brick and the clover leaves? The apple trees, beyond the wall, are covered with the thin blossoms of spring. A rustle in the undergrowth and a blossoming tree comes to life. A new exuberance bursting forth.

A friend who has a more intimate relation to the world comes to share the garden. A boy of ten, who hangs to the foot of the porch and scrabbles at everything, greets him with delight. “Oh there you are; oh the wind is blowing! Oh there you are.” A breeze is whistling into the garden. The child is stretching his arms outward, immovable: “Oh the wind is blowing.” A fox tree with its branches cracked by a summer storm, the pines drowsing in the shade of the overhanging gable: “Oh the wind is blowing.” A young girl is running down the road as it rushes her. A pocket of friends to soften the atmopshere.

“I fear I have not acquired a great many of the virtues, but I am aware of my deficiencies.” The woman, taking up her seat in the veranda, rises to her feet: “I fear I have not acquired a great many of the virtues, but I am aware of my deficiencies.” A fan, its blades turning in the air above the bushes, interrupts her: “I fear I have not acquired a great many of the virtues, but I am aware of my deficiencies.” The smaller boy, kneeling in the flower bed, looks up at her with a stricken face: “I fear I have not acquired a great many of the virtues, but I am aware of my deficiencies.”