a weekend of good childhood.

Rain. The scent of woodsmoke; a fire-blackened twig scratching patterns on the ground. Climbing up to the moon, high on the rain-greened hill, and looking down upon a city suddenly beautiful. Round moon, brave boys, laughter. A pitcher of garden zinnias. New-planted peas. Singed pumpkin, candle shadows, pancakes for dinner. Pippi before bed. Pumpkin bread. Long stories, and slippers by the door.