Explore "Downstream" by Sigfrid Siwertz on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The terrace at Selambshof was adorned with two small ship's-guns on gun-carriages of decayed oak. They were spiked with pine-needles and twigs, and it was long since a birthday salute had been fired with them. Laura sat astride of one of these, swinging her legs lazily and catching maple-blossoms in her hat. It was a fine day in the beginning of June, and with each breeze there rained down over the old cannon golden green maple blossoms, and the pools glistened after the night's rain.
Sometimes it almost looked as if an idyl could exist even in the presence of the sham Gothic of Selambshof.