The wood was gone. What stayed there still was a yellow, shaved-off, bald-headed hill. The sun came out like fiery flames that burned up Gramps' little dried-out fields. The rain fell slick-slack-slick-slack-stic,it flowed over furrows,and rows and dikes. The fields are ruined, the land cracks and creaks. The water flows down Granny's cheeks.