In the fall, over-ripe pears drop from the trees, and the fermented scent rises from the grass. Sniffing deeply and dizzy with winey air, I stumble on them. Sometimes I pick one up and stare at the oddly mottled green and gold skin. I pierce the soft pulp with a stick. I make little people of the pears with twig arms and legs on the
On a farm, the most important building is the barn. Barns place the farmer squarely in the middle of dirt and reverence. It is where animals live, and the serenity and stupidity of animals is an experience close to grace. It is where things die openly, but not serenely— stillborn calves, drowned cats, frostbitten swallows. The barn is a place of largeness and work, but the
Keep Clear of Me; I Am Maneuvering with Difficulty So I have to get drunk over at Art’s where the boys know Barn and leave me alone. I know right away it’ll get around and someone will tell his mama, but I stay committed until I’m so gone I can laugh. One of his poaching buddies says, Bead, I’ll take you home , but I say, No. I say, Don’t touch me anywhere. He backs off, palms up. I toss back my