A first-person reverie engaged in by a little girl on the morning after her grandmother has died. In the garden and the field, the little girl remembers how Nana would call the chickadee and how she told her to listen to the baby ferns unfurling. She feels her grandmother's presence around her and feels herself a part of the breeze, the air--""Here and everywhere./ Always./ I am the me that was me before I was born."" It's unlikely that a child would articulate such sentiments, but at least the message and the mood are muted. And the mood is projected inescapably in Zeldich's pensive scenes, in sand and deep blue, which are often dappled with darker, lacy leaf patterns. Though both pictures and text tend to poeticize predictably, both are relatively restrained, without the mawkish cast of many such projects.