Last week, I walked through a school garden with the kids. Deserted on a summer afternoon, we picked golden raspberries and strawberries and chard, I studied the labyrinth, there were flowers and herbs and vegetables. It seemed like the sun was holding it all down with a steady heat. And me too, I felt like I was clobbered and disoriented by bad news and this fuzz of the sun in the late afternoon was gentling me. The garden was terraced and full of small paths. I wandered and felt calm. A bee working, a dove. The fuzz of gold on everything in the garden on that warm afternoon. How could it possibly comfort me? I don't understand that part.