Eva had awakened that morning with a song running through her mind. She tried to remember where she had heard it; whose song it was. After a few moments' thought, she remembered—it was the song of the mountains, rising to the east beyond the garden. The melody soared and plunged, with clear, high notes, followed by a deep thrumming, almost too low to hear. As it repeated itself in her head, she felt a sudden inspiration. She could combine the various songs to make a symphony of praise!
Eva began to search through the melodies she had stored in her memory for other parts of the song . . . a tree! A towering evergreen, its shape mimicking that of the mountain and the whispering swish of its needles a delicate counterpoint to the mountain's song. Next she thought of a small, clear mountain stream, glittering in the sunlight and tingling its way downhill toward the center of the garden. The next part she thought was a meadow filled with the low humming of bees, interspersed with the varied chimes of an assortment of flowers, finishing with the grace notes of butterflies, flitting here and there through the composition.
Eva breathed a sigh of satisfaction at the arrangement she had thought of. If she could think of it, it must exist somewhere. Humming the song she had put together, she set out to find the place where it existed.