On the edge of the field stood a little pump house,

and a willow tree flourished beside it, fed by the overspill of water. The long skirts of the willow hung down nearly to the ground. 

Abra parted the switches like a curtain and went into the house of leaves made against the willow trunk by the sweeping branches. . . inside was protected, warm, and safe. The afternoon sunlight came yellow through the aging leaves.
"I guess it will be a long time before we can get married," he said.
"Not so long." Abra said.
"I wish it was now."
"It won't be so long," said Abra.

'We'll have a house together sometime," Aron said, bemused. 'We'll go in and close the door and it will be nice. But that will be a in a long time."

Abra put out her hand and touched him on the arm. "Don't you worry about long times," she said. "This is kind of a house. We can play like we live here while we're waiting. And you will be my husband and you can call me wife. It'll be like practicing."

---East of Eden