The Colonel sat astride his mare at the hill’s crest, his spyglass winking in the morning sun.
“That rooftop, there,” he said to his adjutant. “The colorful one. You know about that?”
“Ah yes,” said the young man. “It is a very old tradition in this valley. It is said that the colors serve as a reminder to the villagers.”
“A reminder of what?”
“In winter, that spring will come. In summer, that we should appreciate God’s gifts as they are given. It gives solace to all who look upon it. “
“Makes a splendid target, anyway. Bring up the artillery.”