Two Things

Two Things:
One, I felt like the Larks and the Lemons stuff was taking on a rather unserious, unrealilistic tone, and second, I changed the setting somewhat. Before, I kind of invisioned it in a Californian Valley, and now it takes place on a Missouri River, comparitively. See below post. I'm rather excited about this; once I started thinking about the Missouri rivers the other settings in the story fit well into the US too... so I think that will be a good influence, plus Ill be able to be realilistic about plants and animals etc. And of course, I can take whatever liberties I want, cause it isnt really America. Its just American rather than European. Whatever.
Any way, The first line echoes the old first line, because maybe its silly, but it came to me and started the whole thing, and at least for now Im loath to completely abandon it. Also, this is more description and less 'action' than the last one, its also much shorter. ^^

The Sparrows were in the Sweetgums, the pipits were in the oaks. A few lazy mallards drifted beneath the willows, searching for mouthfuls of bread left by eager children. A hawk flew over the rivers calm flowing water, casting a shadow that rippled and vanished. The sun was bright, but gentle as it lit on the trees and on the houses scattered amoung them on the hillside. It shone on Mara’s face and in her auburn hair as she stood in the current of the river, feeling its cool water flow around her. Although it could be altered, moved and parted even as it altered all those in its course, its final destination would be obtained, and the quiet confidence in the water of its path and purpose vibrated in every ripple and rapid.

Mara was comfortable in the river, loved it not as a man loves fertile soil, or even as he loves a faithful horse, but as he loves a friend, respected it and cherished it. She had spent her entire life on its gravelly banks, beneath its mossy shade, reveling in the deep, silent green of the deeps and the sun filtered brown of the shallows. She loved the gentle sloping of the south side, the gravel bars and straggly bush, filled with sun and songbirds; she loved the darkness of the northern bank, where all the trees bent over, reaching for the sun, in turn shielding the river beneath it. There were tangled tree roots reaching and blending into the dark water, there were snakes long and slender, gleaming like ebony, there were reeds and moss and tiny black butterflies flitting from shade to shade.