John's 12 now. He stares with curiosity through the bus window at Strawberry Field Children's Home , a hive of activity this time. There may have been some rain. The middle age couple in the seats in front of him have been past a thousand times and don’t even look out of the window. John watches two Sally Ann soldier ladies escort two yellow-raincoated children back to their adopted home, as a cat contemplates entering what are bound to be good mousing grounds where little children play. The gardens are bare at the moment, but one day John will plant them with rich fruit.