Вино из одуванчиков

           Douglas,beinglighter,wasfirsttositintheswing.Then,afteramoment,Grandfathergingerlysettledhispontificalweightbesidetheboy.Thustheysat,smilingateachother,nodding,astheyswungsilentlybackandforth,backandforth.

           TenminuteslaterGrandmaappearedwithwaterbucketsandbroomstowashdownandsweepofftheporch.Otherchairs,rockersandstraight-backs,weresummonedfromthehouse.

           "Alwaysliketostartsittingearlyintheseason,"saidGrandpa,"beforethemosquitoesthicken."

           Aboutseveno’clockyoucouldhearthechairsscrapingbackfromthetables,someoneexperimentingwithayellow-toothedpiano,ifyoustoodoutsidethedining-roomwindowandlistened.Matchesbeingstruck,thefirstdishesbubblinginthesudsandtinklingonthewallracks,somewhere,faintly,aphonographplaying.Andthenastheeveningchangedthehour,athouseafterhouseonthetwilightstreets,undertheimmenseoaksandelms,onshadyporches,peoplewouldbegintoappear,likethosefigureswhotellgoodorbadweatherinrain-or-shineclocks.

           UncleBert,perhapsGrandfather,thenFather,andsomeofthecousins;themenallcomingoutfirstintothesyrupyevening,blowingsmoke,leavingthewomen’svoicesbehindinthecooling-warmkitchentosettheiruniversearight.Thenthefirstmalevoicesundertheporchbrim,thefeetup,theboysfringedonthewornstepsorwoodenrailswheresometimeduringtheeveningsomething,aboyorageraniumpot,wouldfalloff.