The rain has reduced to a light drizzle, and there are little glimmerings, like tiny candles in the sky. The tulips are in their glory, and now the irises are beginning to keep pace. We pass the southern magnolia, saying nothing to each other, and proceed together, as though of one mind, as though led by an invisible guardian, towards the gate in the fence. The air is cool, moist, and incredibly pure and heavy with fragrance. The drizzle has stopped, and we spontaneously furl and lower our umbrellas. I wonder if, by caprice, Carl is going to go ahead and lead us into forbidden territory, where I erroneously ventured yesterday and found the cabin in the field, but he takes the other trail, the one that winds around throughout the property, like an undisciplined labyrinth. We are going to be walking for quite a while.
"What do you make of Aaron's story?" say I to no one in particular.
"I want to know what the serpent represents?" says Francois.
"I would imagine", says Carl, "Satan and his redemption."
"But how can the devil possibly be redeemed?" says Francois.
"It's not theology", says Carl. "More a parable."
"Anything can be redeemed", say I.
"Are you sure?", says Francois...
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