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I merely looked at the tapestry and loved it. Unconsciously, it instilled in me an awareness of color and the nfinite combinations that were then and for many years after considered "clashing" colors. Nature was my first instructor.

    Below the slopes, toward the southern end of the Valley, I could see Santa Rosa and Morgan Street where our house stood. At the end of the street was Mr. Todd's house and [[strikethrough]] the [[/strikethrough]] his grain field,presided over by stately live oaks. I was afraid of Mr. Todd and perhaps with reason , for I frequently had occasion to trespass on his property. Many Santa Rosa families planted rose gardens, in some instances an entire acre of roses , ramblers, Lady Banksias, and every known species. Mr. Todd, obviously more practical, had covered his acres with fine stands of wheat and barley and surrounded it with a strong wooden fence. Even there wild flowers somehow had managed to find a place to flourish, blue forget-me-nots, lupin, brodea, poppies and daisies. When I was not given to gather wild flowers in more distant fields, I picked those in Mr. Todd's grain fields. With a playmate, usually shamed into coming with me or else be derided as a "'fraidy cat'" [[strikethrough]] , [[/strikethrough]]. Being a scrawny, lanky child, it was not difficult for me to squeeze through the palings in