She no longer plucked the bluebells to press to her face, but leaned to them.

Every blade of gramma grass, with its shining bronze-tufted seed head, had significance for her.

The scents of the desert began to have meaning for her.

She sensed within her the working of a great leveling process through which supreme happiness would come.
June! The rich, thick, amber light, like a transparent reflection from some intense golden medium, seemed to float in the warm air.

The sky became an azure blue.