Spring was coming, with the warm rain and forthing of colorized blossoms.
Already the ploughing was nearly finished, and the glory of the sunset colored the clay to even red.
The moise earth, waiting upturned for the seeds, showed yellow on the sandy top of earth.
The whitewashed brick plantation house seemed an island set in a wild yellow sea under clear blue sky dappling with white cloud.
It is peace.
It is home.