I ended the day with a two-mile walk on a nondescript trail. I was excited in the morning about waiting til I could go outside and enjoy the sunny weather. By the time I got outside, the sky had darkened. My blister and my feelings still sting just a little, but both are almost healed. At about 6 p.m., the ominous sky gave way to a slanting bright light of sun that peeked through only from the horizon, from just under the dark clouds. It was worth waiting for. There was something in the air, the way the dead grass smelled, that brought my mind to a time when I used to play outside when I was a little girl living on a big farm. I had an apple tree that I claimed as mine. There was a regular-sized yard, a pine tree that my sister claimed as hers, a garden, a berry bush, hills, barns, a creek, cats, a turkey, chickens, cows, and weeds. The sweet smell of the dry grass, combined with the dull, grayish-brown pre-spring balminess, brought me back all of the sudden to a time when I had nothing better to do than to wander outside through the country, gaze at the sky and gather weeds.