I came to Wendell Berry’s writing only lately, and there is too much to read it all. In our reading life, there is inadequate time to consider all of what any one author wrote, but only bits and pieces. There are no exceptions to this, even for favorite authors, at least with me. No time for re-living other people’s lives.
What makes Berry of interest is his relevance to how we have come to live in Big Grove.
We own 0.62 acres of what used to be Kasparek’s farm. When we arrived, the soil was thick with clay and grasses. A neighbor had mowed an area of the lot for a golf tee to hit balls back into his lots at the top of the hill. There were two trees, a mulberry, the seed of which was dropped by a bird sitting on the surveyor’s marker, and an unidentified one that died shortly after we moved here.