When a big blacksnake darted its head through sweet grass and cattails, and caught a frog that had climbed on a mossy stone in the shade to dine on flies, I let it go.

Any other time I would have hunted a stick and made the snake let loose.

To-day I just sat there and let things happen as they did.
At last I wandered up the road, climbed the back garden fence, and sat on the board at the edge of a flowerbed, and to-day, I could tell to the last butterfly about that garden: what was in bloom, how far things had grown, and what happened.

Bobby flew under the Bartlett pear tree and crowed for me, but I never called him.

I sat there and lived on, and mostly watched the bees tumble over the bluebells.