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The mind I love must still have wild places, a tangled orchard where the dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown little woods, the chance of a snake or two (real snakes), a pool that nobody’s fathomed the depth of—and paths threaded with those little flowers planted by the mind.
                                        Katherine Mansfield


Yesterday, one of the young women at the stables told us where there was a small snake. It had already wiggled away, but I am happy to know it is there. Happy wiggling in and out of space today.