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Show 35, Jeffries, Islamorada [Section 2] "You're very kind," Mr. Clayton replied. "Give me another moment. Now only two of you have seen real snow but maybe we all saw it there for a moment, today. For homework I want you to give me a good effort on Mr. Frost's poem. You're looking into the woods, there, or you're the little horse. Have a nice day." Low tide. A brackish smell came off the sea. But he'd held them. A class like this comes along and he'd work for nothing. Start giving eighty-ninety percent of himself. Like the Sisters of Presentation and the Ursalines. All day he thought about those kids, and in the early evening, far up in a little shop on Key Largo, he found what he needed. The next day he was ready. "Tell us about snow;" they clamored. He produced the little crystal. "Now this is what a very small town, a village, might look like, even today, in parts of those states we call New England. . ." And even more so, he thought, bitterly homesick for a moment, where the state of Connecticut colonized down into northeastern Ohio, the Western Reserve "Do that again!" He spun the crystal. "Snowbound," Mr. Clayton began, "and for some reason, as they did in those days, Mr. Whittier felt he wanted to give us this subtitle, A Winter Idyll, and who wants to look that up for us--okay we're thinking in the |
