The Meadow
“It’s a wishing well.” Gio leaned over the stone structure and staring down into its cavernous and rounded shape. “Can you see the gold doubloons at the bottom?”
Steve couldn’t, but he heard the muses around him again, closer this time, as if they were standing directly behind him.
“Douuuu…bloooons at the bottttt…ommm.”
“There’s a dozen or more down there.”
The wishing well, as Gio called the decoration in the meadow, sat opposite the tallest tree; a massively round Redwood that was higher than two hundred and fifty feet, Steve guessed. Two stone beams opposite each other held up a fern-laden and sloped roof. As Steve leaned over the waist-high wall, he determined that the well looked thirty feet deep, or slightly deeper. Its sublevel surface sparkled with a rainbow of colo
