Spring is close to arriving now that we are into March. Still, the woods hold onto winter, and in the meadow near the slanted-pines entrance into the woods, it"s cold.
It"s just Uncle Abe and I here for the Saturday teaching. Granny has someone coming to the house for healing. Billy has gone off to work to catch some overtime. Willa is, well, inside.
"Here"s what "bout magical ways," Uncle Abe is saying. "I knows you be thinking about disappearing and popping out someplace else."
He gives me a stern look. I"m wondering how he knows just exactly what I"m thinking. Best I watch where my mind wanderings go.
He"s carrying his walking stick, the one with the lion"s head. I look at it. It"s so detailed that I suspect whatever lion served as the model had a name.
"Wilbur," he tells me.
"Wha
