Spat! Spat! I brought down my bare feet, already scratched and turning brown, and laughed to myself at the velvety feel of it.

There were little puddles yet, where May and I had "dipped and faded" last fall, and it was fun to wade them.

The roadsides were covered with meadow grass and clover that had slipped through the fence.

On slender green blades, in spot after spot, twinkled the delicate bloom of blue-eyed grass.

Never in all this world was our Big Creek lovelier.