...“Wilhelmina May Gudgeon, you pay attention to your Daddy. He knows best.” ...Daddy hugged me tight. He said nature would take its course. ...“We best give her a name before the evenin’s out,” said Daddy. “How about Twinkle?” ...“No, no, Daddy, I think we should call her Iona. Like the island in Scotland,” I said. ...Daddy nodded his head and said good night to Iona. I blew her kisses as we walked back to the house. ...Ma always says, “Blowin’ kisses sows seeds of love. It floats in the air and pollinates our hearts jus’ like bees pollinatin’ ‘th flowers.” ...I prayed to the angels that night. I asked them to mend Iona’s wing. I told them how Daddy accidentally mowed her over, and that Suburbia is no place for a faery. Faeries belong in the woods. Where the Pussy Willows grow. ...Our next door neighbour, Mrs. Beecroft came over in the morning and fed Iona some mashed clovers. She said the clovers would help the glue set so Iona’s wing grows back in the right place. ...I wondered where else her wing would grow back, if it didn’t grow back where it was supposed to grow back..."