Dauby

dauby wax

... day of dauby rain clouds. He looked over the plains that ran down from the hill. He looked at it all as if he had never seen it before and some strange meaning exuded from the grass, and from the bushes, from the trees, and from the black clay,[…]

The clay, all yellow, was dauby following the torrential shower of rain. Shy where it usually bragged, the sun stole through the grey clouds and shed a Hepplewhite shine on the coffin, just about still above ground. The priest prayed. […] […] Holy water spattered on the coffin's lid. Clay stuck there, too, in dauby stress.