It was an early spring day, evidenced by the slight chill in the breeze that kicked up intermittently. The interludes where it died down were delicious as the unfiltered sun soaked into the winter pale skin of her arms. She could hear deep clangy church bells ringing a mile off, mingling with wind chimes as well as the creaky lopsided whir of the neighbors' ancient Kansas windmill tilting on their front lawn. Cars ambled by here and there, tires bouncing on the brick street. From her perch on the porch chair, feet propped up on the paint peeling rail, she could see up one side of the wide street and down the other. The book in her lap had lost its appeal, her attention now focused on a pair of robins pecking in the grass nearby, their orange bellies stretched round, sky blue eggs hidden still. She closed her eyes and daydreamed, breathing in the peace.