Agnes in her straight-backed rocking chair and Bob in her lap. To-gether they could see anything coming, Bob to one side and Agnes to the other. Whereas Bob's bad right eye was sewn up, Agnes had a false one that roved. Brad Watson, from Last Days of the Dog-Men Imagine an April evening in 1762. Educated and well-bred, they're used to a certain level of conversation.
All good farmers become connoisseurs of dirt and dust.
We have progressed from trailing a horse-drawn plow and marching through mud to riding modern equipment that elevates us three or four feet above the ground. But no good farmer can escape contact with the earth, we feel it on our tongues and in our throats. Farm dust varies with soil types and regional cuisines. I don't know how the Georgia red clay tastes, but I have visited the Wisconsin dairy lands and Washington's Skagit Valley. Mixed with rains and lush growth, their dust is heavy and thick and has a richness, like a fattening dessert of chocolate.