As the engineering for her mothers future garden was in play the sun beat down and the birds did sing, the crow cawed and the busy bee bumbled as the proboscis of the butterfly flexed and bowed feeding deep in to the place most would never know.
Some extravagant beauty would get the slash though not to be misused, tending was at hand.
The American Red Start flew under the brush, to be seen by air a black bird would it appear. The cardinals were fed while they chipped about, while the metal cylinders filled the air with soft full sounds when an easy breeze flew through.
Sunflowers unfurled to the humming birds delight. Pillows of clouds shaded the ground at periodic points hovering randomly changing the scene.
“Hello every body, we have a little work to do dears.
Fret not for your peers,
the dead be awaken, with life as its source.”
The she sang a bit about blue birds over rainbows
and great deal of ahava and a greeting to God.
