Explore "Diverging Roads" by Rose Wilder Lane on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
At the end of a long, warm summer day Helen lay in a hammock swung between two apricot-trees. From time to time, with a light push of a slippered foot on the grass, she set the hammock swaying, and above her head the pale, translucent leaves and ruddy fruit shifted into new patterns against a steel-gray sky.
The mysterious, eerie hush of twilight was upon her spirit. Murmuring voices came vaguely through it; across the street two women were sitting on the porch of a bungalow, and on its lawn a little girl played with a dog. The colors of their dresses, of the dog's tawny fur, of geraniums against brown shingles, were sharp and vivid in the cold light.