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Scene 35
A Gray Day

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  I am joy all over. I have found in the near woods a plant that has berries like the berries symphorine has. And its leaves are like the leaves symphorine has. I have had seeings of it before, and every time I do meet with this new old plant, I do say, "I have happy feels to see you, Symphorine." And when the wind comes walking in the near woods, the little leaves of symphorine do whisper little whispers. I have thinks they are telling me they were come here before I was come here. I make a stop to have more listens. They do whisper, "See, petite Françoise , we were a long time come." I can see they were, too, because their toes have grown quite a ways down in the ground.
  Today, as I did walk a walk to where they grow, I did tell them about the day that it is. I told them all about this being the horning day of Jeanne d'Albret, mère de Henri IV in 1528. I told the year-numbers on my fingers. I had thinks they might have remembers better if I so told them on my fingers. I do have remembers of numbers better when I do tell them on my fingers. Brave Horatius did stand by and listen while I so told them. We went on.
  I tied bits of bread on the tips of the branches of the trees. Too, I tied on popcorn kernels. They looked like snow-flowers blooming there on fir trees. I looked looks back at them. I have knows the birds will be glad for them. Often I do bring them here for them. When I do have hungry feels I feel the hungry feels the birds must be having. So I do have comes to tie things on the trees for them. Some have likes for different things. Little gray one of the black cap has likes for suet . And other folks has likes for other things.
Follow One Character There is a little box in the woods that I do keep things for the pheasants and grouses and squirrels and more little birds and wood-mouses and woodrats. In fall-time days Peter Paul Rubens did come here with me when I did bring seeds and nuts to this box for days of hiver. When we were come to the box, I did have more thinks of him. I think the soul of Peter Paul Rubens is not afar. I think it is in the forest. I go looking for it. I climb up in the trees. I call and call. And then when I find it not, I do print a message on a leaf, and I tie it onto the highest limb I can reach. And I leave it there with a little prayer for Peter Paul Rubens. I do miss him so.
Follow One Character Today, after I so did leave a message on a leaf away up in a tree for him, I did have going in along the lane and out across the field and down the road beyond the meeting of the roads . There was grayness everywhere -- gray clouds in the sky and gray shadows above and in the canyon . And all the voices that did speak -- they were gray tones. "Petite Françoise , c'est jour gris." And all the little lichens I did see along the way did seem a very part of all the grayness. And Felix Mendelssohn in my apron pocket -- he was a part of the grayness, too. And as I did go adown the road, I did meet with a gray horse -- and his grayness was like the grayness of William Shakespeare . Then I did turn about. I did turn my face to the near woods where is William Shakespeare.
  When Rob Ryder isn't looking, I give to William Shakespeare pieces of apple and I pull grass for him. He so likes a nice bit to eat after he does pull a long pull on the logs. And while I do feed him bits of apple and bits of grass, I do tell him poems. William Shakespeare has likes for poems. And sometimes I do walk along by him when he is pulling in logs and I do tell the poems to him while he pulls. And I give his head rubs when he is tired, and his back too. And on some Sundays when he is in the pasture I go there to talk with him. He comes to meet me. William Shakespeare and I -- we are friends. His soul is very beautiful. The man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice says he is a dear old horse.
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