There was the pungent sweetness of pines and earth in the air of this woods church. Janet said, "the place smells like a seplchre!" The quiet of the woods shivered her. She turned back to the bright rock. Its crevices were filled with patches of brilliant green licorice fern. The green yellow of moss on the rock was rich and deep and dotted with pink shepard's purse and wild blue forget me not. Spirea bushes grew round the edge of the rock, dropping rich creamy bunches of blossoms whose weight bent their slender woody stalks, straining out towards the sunshine which filled the little rock chapel at high noon when the sun was overhead. A bold brazen tiger lily grew on the edge of the rock. It had five blossoms on each stalk, blossoms with faces furiously splotched, and orange petals rolled back like the lips of angry cats.
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November 2017
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