"Can we go for a walk, Grampa?" the boy asked.

The sky was lumpy gray, the texture of oatmeal, and the wind was wild.

"Not today, son.  The world's a sea of mud and I forgot my galoshes."

"When will it be summer?"

"After the world wakes up again, Scooter.  After it stretches and settles down."

"What's it doing now, Grampa?"

"Dreaming, son.  The world is tucked in and dreaming."