About these farings forth, a preface is soon told. Almost no begats to get over, left are my grandfathers to their safe sleep in the green and alabaster, hills and halls of Alabama. Brothers and sisters have I some, and that child's father is my father's son. But it is I indeed, the aboriginal first person singular, who made those steps and now seeks to bend your ear. Under the trees are violets and in the sky, blue charismatic Vega. In the spring of all beginnings may we visit a spell, to talk as travelers by a twinkling fire, against the folding in of night?