my mother ordered, “take Anh and Thant to the village and buy a little tea at the Chans’ store.”Anh and Thant were pleased to be let off their chores. The two of them ran on ahead, balancing themselves on the mud dikes that outlined the paddies. The fields were empty and nearly dry, but in another two months the monsoon would come. The rains would pour down day and night until the ground ran with water and the paddies were flooded again. Everyone would soak their rice seed, and when little pale green sprouts began to uncurl from the split seed, tea and cooked rice would be offered to the spirits to insure a good crop. The seed would be scattered and left to grow until it was high enough to transplant. All summer long the shoots had to be weeded. As they grew, they rippled like green waves in the wind. When the harvesttime drew near, the whole village was fragrant with the smell of the ripening rice.A narrow footpath running beside the stream led to a dirt road that went into the village.
