”[…]on bimulous nights when the sky is like lace, the trees eucalyptus back and forth, forth and back, swishing and swaying and swishing- in the fern-deep grove at the midnight end of the garden.
You will also find that, on bimulous nights when the sky is like lace, the grass is like gooseberry jam. It’s not really squooshy like jam, because then the otters’ feet would slurp around and the snails might drown. It only smells like gooseberry jam. But if you walk barefoot, it feels like the velvet inside a very old violin case.”
When the Sky Is Like Lace, by Elinor Lander Horwitz, illustration by Barbara Cooney
