The field seemed sloped now, instead of flat.
Across the sunken road was another field. Its owner, I presume, had
started to turn it up for fall planting, when the armies came along and
chased him away; so there remained a wide plowed strip, and on each side
of it a narrower strip of unplowed earth. Even as I peered downward at
it, this field was transformed into a width of brown corduroy trimmed
with green velvet.
For a rudder we carried a long, flapping clothesline arrangement, like
the tail of a kite, to the lower end of which were threaded seven
yellow-silk devices suggesting inverted sunshades without handles.
These things must have been spaced on the tail at equal distances apart,
but as they rose from the earth and followed after us, whipping in the
wind, the uppermost one became a big umbrella turned inside out; the
second was half of a pumpkin; the third was a yellow soup plate; the
fourth was a poppy bloom; and the remaining three were just amber beads
of diminishing sizes.
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