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have explained why.

   Eventually, we outgrew the house on Morgan street. My brothers, Freddy, Bill and my syster, Mildred, forever known as Tid, followed me in the world. My father bought a larger house, on Carillo Street, next to my grandmother Calderwood. Not long after we moved there, perhaps a month, I saw the opportunity to have a garden of my own. A vacant lot lsay beside our barn.  One morning, as though seeing it for the first time, I was struck by its dry and dusty emptiness. In the same instant, the vision of a flower garden flashed in my mind's eye. I saw it quite clearly, full blown, flower beds and a specific design of paths separating them.  Something stirred in memory, a photograph in Goddard's lectures (remember the noundless wonders for children in that ten--foot shlef of books?). Filled with excitement, I rushed into the house and pulled down the Lectures, riffling through the pages until I found that photograph I wanted, a photograph of the gardens at Versailles. I would have a garden just like that one, beside the barn.

   I would have a round ceterpiece, filled with yellow and white Shasta daisies, marigolds and red poppies. In the beds around it there