ABSTRACT
Autumn again. A hint of withering was visible in the green treetops. The sun had grown weary of long days sending forth bright, scorching heat, and both the sky and the land below assumed a muted tone. From time to time clouds rushed in from the south, pouring down rain that transformed the dusty soil of the upland fields to mud and splashed it onto the lower leaves of the crops. Then the foam-flecked water drained away. The sun reappeared, but only long enough to dry the sodden flowers on the bindweed vines that coiled up the trunks of the mulberry trees. Again and again the showers came, harassing the farmers who had been up since dawn hulling barley and now had the grain spread out on mats to dry. Would the showers end that day? If not they knew they would continue for three days or five days or even longer, for at this time of year it always rained for an odd number of days.
