Oh, it has some Scotch broom on the pasture, but you can get ahead of that if you keep after it. I helped the last guy with his fence, but he wanted his gate over here, where the tractor couldn't have got in. Oh, I don't need a fence. I have nothing that wants your apples, no goats or anything like that. We mentioned our ducks.
Ducks are fine.
I thought of Frost, whose neighbor needed fences of old-stone savage granite, because Frost's apples might eat his pine cones, and his father had had a saying. We walked over the pasture till we reached the incense cedars, each one five feet thick, and found a hanging branch worn smooth by generations of children's swinging. Good, and the valley here was wide, with the mountains stretching east and west, and sunshine access on short winter days. Desire for the land sets one dreaming. It becomes a privilege just to set out onions, and a cow is not mere luxury, but even a kind of madness so much as to consider.