There must have been thousands of blossoms that passed hands over the years, as the couple spread their love through their flowers. Eventually they had three beautiful children who grew up loving the white foamy waves of the mighty Pacific, the silver-specked cliffs of the shore. They played and sang in the soft green grasses and were happy and wishful and good.

And when the last child went away to Berkeley and the peace became quieter still, the man and the woman sat out on the porch of their camper where he played his guitar and she danced.