“Those are the handwillows.” “Handwillows? Which ones?” “With the speckled-sort-of leaves. All trunk-ish.” “I see the ones you’re pointing at,” Lower Montana said. “Is that what they’re called, handwillows?” “It’s what I call them,” Steppy Alouette answered. “What do arborealists call them?” “I don’t know. I haven’t any on staff.” They were back in the … Continue reading A Rallying In Little Aleppo