Rocks on the streambed pressed hard into Teresita's knees, but she scarcely noticed. Her fingers were numb from the icy water. She slapped another diaper on the flat scrubbing stone and rubbed a strong-smelling bar of brown soap on the stain. As she scrubbed, she sang.This soap I have madeThese clothes I will washBut the stream flows on to the seaCharting a pathway for me.From a willow branch overhead, a yellow-headed black-bird trilled to her song. Oka-wee! Oka-weee! Teresita sat back on her heels, stretching, and smiled up into a sparkling eye. "So you're happy today too, are you Señor Blackbird, hiding behind that bandit's mask? You know that something exciting is going to happen. You feel it, too, don't you?"A foot slid and rocks clacked against each other on the stream bank. Teresita turned, shielding her eyes from the sun.“Teresita Montoya, estas loca? Are you crazy, talking to a bird?" Teresita's sister Eugenia reached for the piles of washed clothes and began spreading them on bushes to dry."Not crazy, Eugenia, excited! It's spring. Listen! Roosters are crowing. Mules are braying—""Roosters always crow, tonta, and mules always bray." Eugenia snapped the wrinkles from a shirt. "You're just being silly."